It is not uncommon for (predominantly male) music critics to invert the ‘great man/great woman’ dictum in order to suggest that behind the success of every powerful female artist there simply must be a moustache-twirling Svengali pulling the strings.
It’s less common for the artist themselves to pose the question. On ‘Lonely’, the penultimate track on her compelling sixth album, London rapper and actor Simbiatu Ajikawo, who performs as Little Simz, interrogates the doubts and insecurities she felt while writing and recording this record. In doing so, she asks: ‘I’m used to making it with [redacted]/ Can I do it without?’
The bleeped-out name is likely that of Dean Cover, aka Inflo, the influential writer, producer and multi instrumentalist whose contribution to Ajikawo’s three previous albums, including the standout Sometimes I Might Be Introvert, winner of the 2022 Mercury Music Prize, is hard to overstate.
It was recently revealed, however, that she is suing her former friend and collaborator over an alleged debt stretching into seven figures. Which explains why Inflo is AWOL on Lotus. Instead, Ajikawo paired up with a new (male) cowriter, musical partner and producer, Miles Clinton James. To which one might reasonably conclude that she has answered her own question: ‘Can I do it without?’ Apparently not.
But this would be to misunderstand not only the essentially collaborative nature of the modern pop game, which is nowadays a tech-savvy team sport, closer to Formula 1 than showbiz, but also the fact that the backroom boys of the current era aren’t puppeteers; rather, they serve at the behest of the headline artist. Lorde, Taylor Swift, Charli XCX et al. provide the words, the direction of travel, the drama and personality in their music, while blokes called things such as Jim-E Stack, Jack Antonoff and A.G. Cook do the grunt work.
On Lotus, despite Clinton James’s pivotal role and a swathe of guest artists and cowriters, there is never any confusion over who is running the show. Ajikawo is a compelling narrator who understands how to use her voice to maximise attention (viewers of Top Boy might remember her quietly effective turn as Shelley, conflicted girlfriend of gangster Dushane). It’s bad form to measure verse by the yard, but it is once again striking how committed rappers are to maximising the impact of their words, and how lazy most rock lyricists look by comparison.
Despite Clinton James’s pivotal role, there is never any confusion over who is running the show
Both ‘Young’ and ‘Blood’ unfold as shortform plays. The first is a comical character piece, an enjoyably slapdash monologue of a posh girl slumming it: ‘I’m twenty-something young with my priorities straight/ I need to buy a booze, and I need to buy a draw.’ Taking the piss without going for the jugular, its chaotic joie de vivre recalls the Specials, the Slits and X-Ray Spex. ‘Blood’, meanwhile, is like one of those occasional two-hander episodes of EastEnders, a domestic dialogue exploring the complex web of responsibilities to one’s parents, one’s siblings, one’s self.
Much of the rest is furiously introspective, as obsessed with the minutiae and fiscal snakes-and-ladders of the music industry as any Van Morrison diatribe. Opening track ‘Thief’ is a drum-led attack detailing ‘financial exploitation’ – and the rest – which sets the tone for an album intent on settling scores. On ‘Hollow’ she takes down another foe, or perhaps it’s the same one, against the dreamy aural wallpaper of a 1950s Disney soundtrack.
Little Simz’s musical roots lie in London’s grime and hip-hop scenes, but she travels far beyond those parameters. A taste for fierce rhythm recalls Fela Kuti, with whom she shares Nigerian heritage. There are glimmers of bossa nova, funk, soul and trip-hop. A handful of tracks possess a wiry post-punk immediacy. The lilting ‘Peace’ is built over the kind of trippy phased guitar pattern Prince would have devoured. On the itchy groove of ‘Lion’, guest artist Obongjayar delivers his finest Curtis Mayfield.
At other points, mellow jazz meanderings and off-the-peg positivity leads to a dissipation in urgency and energy. There is joy here, but Little Simz’s natural tenor is dramatic intensity. The plucked acoustic guitar and gloomy piano chords of ‘Blue’ make for a downbeat but apt ending to an album that pulls off an impressive sleight of hand. On Lotus, Little Simz allows clouds of doubt and vulnerability to gather, only to illustrate that she is more than capable of swatting them away.
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