Op-Ed: ODUMODUBLVCK's 'INDUSTRY MACHINE' Has a Lot of Melodies & Little Discipline

Whether you like him or not, you’ve surely seen or heard about him. You’ve either seen the red and white cap that sits on his head, or you’ve heard the voice of the man. Audacious, rich, floating. ODUMODUBLVCK has offered one of the most intriguing pieces on the chessboard that is Afrobeats. 

While the movement explores international reign, he’s been forging his own unique path in that trajectory. He wants to do everything: he raps and sings, he adlibs, and is a voracious performer. On-stage, Odumodu assumes the fiery swagger of a masquerade, ostensibly embodying the Igbo masquerade behind his moniker. 

He’s a figure we obviously enjoy — one that’s a lively presence eagerly stoking online conversations with music audiences, in a casual way that reflects what football fans call love for the game. Artists seem to love him — he’s been featured on everyone’s song. He can bring everyone into the studio, but how he does so is very important. 

On INDUSTRY MACHINE, the rapper flexes variation. Leading to its release, the star features of Wizkid and Davido were hyped. He had rap savants Modenine and Skepta on separate tracks. Gave a solid platform to his homeboys, Antiworld Gangsters, and Smada. And most remarkably, it includes a roll call of some of Afropop’s most reliable pop and rap prospects like Phyno, Chike, Patoranking, Reminisce, Jeriq, Zlatan, and so many others. 

At some point, you want to say, Odumodu, we get it — you have such a beautiful reach. Quite fittingly, the expansive soundscape of EZIOKWU worked, where he paired ambient sonics with hard-hitting raps. It was popular for many months. 

Between then and now, there have been many promises and many deliveries. A prelude project, THE MACHINE IS COMING, spawned career highs such as “LEGOLAS” and “WAGE WAR,” both wielding that intricate and deceptively easy storytelling of Odumodu. The former especially shines with a distinct emotional core.

Industry Machine: The Album’s Shortcomings

On INDUSTRY MACHINE, I found myself struggling to connect with a large section of songs. The features seemed to tick off some ambitious A&R list rather than contribute to his artistry. The stretch of music after the poignant “CANDY MUSIC” down to “EJOR” — seven songs in total — was a jarring experience in comprehension, moving hurriedly between female adulation, enemy disposition, and the desire for a good time; all subjects he’s better explored previously. 

I believe OD (as he’s fondly known by fans) was going for rawness and shock value; however, “BOMBASTIC ELEMENT” kinda embodies what’s wrong about this crucial run-in towards an album’s ending. It sounds like parody music. A mirror of the real thing. The inclusion of these songs one after another leaves the listener feeling weary. 

In a tweet, ODUMODUBLVCK explained that the 23-song album was how albums were created back in the day. He’s partly right. He’s creating longer songs than many of his peers, releasing two-minute teasers in place of records, but the artists of old — say, 2Baba or Timaya — didn’t create large projects just to flex artistic freedom. When 2Baba made a four-minute-plus song, every second was necessary. These artists often collaborated with a singular producer, and that allowed them to focus on creating a cohesive sound. 

This machine buckles under the weight of several parts. Iron clanging against iron. Too much color, not enough fusion. But that’s not the only takeaway. 

Odumodu’s Roots and Artistic Identity

As earlier reiterated, there’s something unique Odumodu has brought to our music. Here I have to engage in some anecdotal analysis. 

Some months before EZIOKWU dropped, I interviewed Odumodu. It was on X (fka Twitter) Spaces. We spoke about his music and the elements he combines for that distinct feeling. A key takeaway was that he’d experienced Nigerian culture from different angles: he’s lived in Abuja and Lagos, was born to parents who likely spoke Igbo. 

Even his pre-mainstream releases have a quaint feeling to them, like he’d have made a living creating soundtracks for Old Nollywood movies. You can almost picture Pete Edochie doing some cool, sinister stuff to the music he created at that time. 

It’s a positive depiction of locality, especially since one of hip-hop’s most important ethos is representing where you’re from. These close-up insights on his artistic direction led me to pen a feature piece which appeared in this publication, exploring what makes him “special.”

I’m a fan of this artist. I’ve strongly defended the merit of “DECLAN RICE” against some (in hindsight) superior hip-hop songs. Still, the belief in what he represents is quite remarkable. Odumodu understands his skillset and is eager to bear it on wax. Ironically, this oversized self-awareness makes compression a more useful quality than the expansion that comes readily to him.

Expectedly, the best moments on INDUSTRY MACHINE are the not-so-bloated ones. The titular record. The sweet sparring with Psycho YP on “TIFFANY”. The melodies shine on “BABY REINDEER” and “BANZA BOY”. It’s peak after-work music. “GROOVING” literally steers you into the bars, working up Igbo Highlife’s mellifluous grandness. On “BIG TIME,” Wizkid finds another reflective verse to continue his remarkable feature run throughout the year. 

Perhaps the best way to listen to INDUSTRY MACHINE is in playlist mode. There’s almost zero profit in chronologically going through these tracks, since the best songs are so far flung, especially in its second half. 

It repurposes Odumodu into the artist he truly is, not the artist he wants us to believe he is. Would I expect the best-tuned conceptual experience from him? Not really. But would he move the crowd? Will he give me and my homeboys some memorable experiences? Definitely.

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