The Sound of Two Artists at Ease
Ever since the release of “MMS,” there’s been this subtle but commanding sonic identity that Wizkid and Asake bring when they collaborate. So a joint project felt logical, if not necessary, though it was abruptly announced, with both artists already operating at levels where a joint project may not drastically alter what they could achieve individually, which is precisely why Real, Vol. 1 feels interesting.
It exists without the familiar scent of strategy. No obvious market grab. No urgent need to merge fan bases. Instead, it sounds like what happens when two artists who enjoy each other’s company decide to enter a studio and see what unfolds. Sometimes the most compelling creative decisions are not driven by calculation, but by desire.
The EP is brief – four tracks, roughly eleven minutes and benefits from that restraint. It leaves exactly when it should. There is no filler, no attempt to inflate the project into something weightier than its natural form. You could listen to it twice on a short commute and still find yourself replaying certain moments.
What becomes immediately clear is the ease between them.
Their chemistry is tender – not explosive, not theatrical, just deeply comfortable. They do not crowd each other. They do not perform dominance. Instead, their voices settle into the production with a quiet confidence that suggests mutual respect rather than competition.
Credit: Apple Music Radio
Listening to them feels almost tactile, like biting into well-marinated chicken — soft, intentional, layered in a way that never feels forced. It is the sound of artists who are not trying to prove anything to each other.
This is an extension of what they did on “MMS” two years ago, but more explored. Wizkid has long maintained a trusted circle of collaborators, yet this partnership carries a looseness that suggests freedom rather than obligation. Nothing about the EP sounds over-rehearsed. It’s just four songs that sound like two friends who approve of each other enough to lock in and make something without overthinking it.
The standout is “Alaye.”
Everyone should wake up and listen to “Alaye.” It feels underrated, but I understand why. “Jogodo,” the second track, is the one people are singing. “no be for here you go jogodo, na tonight you go know know” slips out of your mouth because it’s catchy in that effortless way that makes a song stick without you realizing it. You probably don’t know how to sing the rest of the EP yet, but you know that line. But “Alaye” is slower, more deliberate, the kind of track that benefits from sitting with it instead of scrolling past it. The production breathes. Wizkid and Asake don’t rush. they let the song build at its own pace, and by the time it settles, you realize you’ve been nodding along without deciding to. It’s the track that shows what this collaboration could be if they keep going. not just vibes and catchiness (though both are here), but actual musicality. the kind of song that works in a club and also works alone at 2am when you’re trying to figure out what you’re feeling.
After “Alaye,” “Jogodo” holds its own. it’s the people’s favorite for a reason – it moves, it’s quotable, it does what it’s supposed to do without trying too hard.
“Turbulence,” the first track, sits comfortably. It doesn’t demand too much from you, which is fine. Not every song needs to be the standout.
“Iskolodo” rounds out the EP. it feels less consequential than the other tracks, not due to any dip in quality,, but because by the time you get there, you’ve already heard the best of what they have to offer. It doesn’t add much that the first two tracks didn’t already say.
What makes this EP work is that it doesn’t pretend to be more than it is. It’s not trying to reshape Afrobeats or prove a point about generational collaboration. It’s not making grand statements about legacy or cultural power. It’s just Wizkid and Asake making music together because they sound good together and they wanted to. and honestly, that’s rare. Most collaborations at this level are calculated. labels push them. managers broker them. They’re designed to serve a purpose, breaking into a new market, appealing to a different demographic, creating a moment that trends for 48 hours and then disappears.
This doesn’t feel like that. It feels genuine. not in the performative “we’re brothers” way that artists do for press runs, but in the quieter way where two people just like being in the studio together. They did interviews for this. They approved it. They put their names on it together. That doesn’t happen unless there’s actual respect underneath.
Wizkid has worked with plenty of people. Asake is selective about who he collaborates with. the fact that they both signed off on this, kept it short, and didn’t overextend it into something bloated or overproduced says more about their dynamic than any press statement could.
The mixed reactions surrounding the EP are understandable. When two artists at this level come together, people expect more. They expect innovation, risk, something that justifies why both of them are on the same project. “Real, Vol.1” doesn’t do that. It’s not redefining anything. It’s just solid. But perhaps solidity is underrated. Not every collaboration must arrive as a cultural event.
Sometimes music can just be music – well-made, well-placed, and free from the burden of symbolic importance.
“Alaye” deserves more attention than it is likely receiving. “Jogodo” will travel far. “Turbulence” and “Iskolodo” round out the listening experience without excess. Together, the project feels like an honest document of artistic companionship.
You cannot tell two artists who enjoy creating together to resist that instinct. And when the result sounds this assured, this cohesive, this easy, the better question becomes: why would anyone want them to?
