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In the time since Nigerian Afrobeats superstar Rema dropped off 2022’s Rave & Roses, he experienced both the most staggering heights of crossover success and the vilest parts of the demonization of his culture in one fell swoop.  
In 2023, “Calm Down” reached No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and spent a record-setting 58 weeks atop U.S. Afrobeats Songs. The infectious, Selena Gomez-assisted track also reached No. 1 on the all-genre Radio Songs chart, making history for a song by an African lead artist. Then came his sold-out headlining performance at London’s O2 Arena later that year (Nov. 14, 2023), which sparked accusations of Satanism due to the imagery – in actuality, they were hallmarks of the Edo culture of his hometown of Benin City, Nigeria – employed during the show. 

These two things – genuinely peerless success and the tension that lies in bringing hyperlocal culture to a global scale – are the driving forces behind Rema’s impressively daring and unequivocally infectious sophomore LP, Heis. 

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Bearing a title that simultaneously calls to his Instagram handle (@heisrema), the Greek word for the number “one,” and the simplest proclamation of being, Heis finds Rema staunchly on the defensive. Gone are the sugary slow-wine tempos of Rave & Roses; here, Rema conjures up soundscapes – courtesy of an all-star production team that includes Producer X, Take a Daytrip and longtime collaborator London – that thrive in the darkness. Pounding, frenetic drums open the album, ultimately becoming the record’s anchor. Occasionally a tinny synth or a particularly piercing string arrangement will cut through the wall of sound, but the rollicking, militant drums are the dominant source of energy on Heis. And it makes sense: The drum – with all of its history and percussiveness – is the instrument the best symbolizes the Rema of Heis.

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Across the LP, Rema reclaims the “Satanist” narrative by doubling-down on the sounds and voice changes that first garnered those accusations. When he warps his voice into an obsidian baritone on “Ozeba” (“Emi ati awon guys e mi italawo, e mi itolowo/ Italawa, itolowo, ita, itolow, eh-eh”), it’s somehow both bone-chilling and tongue-in-cheek. He refuses to let go of his hometown’s history and culture despite being a global superstar; it’s an emphasis on regionality that mirrors similar conversations has across Black American music this year, from Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter to Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us.” “Everyone is chasing something that the whole world can enjoy… we’re listening to the voices of the world too much,” he said in a recent Apple Music interview. “We gotta listen to the voices back home to keep our roots. Our roots [are] very important.” 

But the Rema of Heis also has an unmistakable chip on his shoulder. As hip-hop grappled with the standing of its Big 3 (Kendrick Lamar, Drake and J. Cole) this spring, Rema uses Heis to demand a spot in the conversation as it relates to Afrobeats. He’s already expressed his desire to expand the existing Afrobeats Big 3 (commonly understood to consist of Burna Boy, Davido and Wizkid) to a “Big 4,” and now he spends most of Heis demanding the No. 1 spot. 

“March Am” opens the record with Rema’s trademark sinister laugh ushering in a high-octane drum pattern that soundtracks his bellicose calls to keep pushing forward. One of the most effective album openers of the year, “March Am” immediately establishes pidgin English as the album’s dominant tongue. “17, I dey dagbo, I dey crack code/ Now the prince of Afro,” he snarls in the first verse, before sing-chanting the “I dey march am” chorus against some stirring background strings. Taking notes from the painstaking worldbuilding of Playboi Carti, Rema’s vision of Afrorave is completely contingent on the blistering, unfettered energy that comes from people collectively giving their bodies over to the power of music. Heis begs to be experienced in a live setting; it’s as if Rema conceived the live version of each song before he even set foot in the studio. It’s dark and raucous and distinctly liberating; at long last, Rema has brought to life the “Afrorave” style that he’s long heralded, despite an initial lack of sonic identifiers.

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The only instrument as effective as the drums on Heis is Rema’s voice. Across the LP, the singer dives into the depths of his range, spending ample time in his icy baritone. Not only do his different vocal registers evoke different characters in his narrative — of recentering yourself after stepping into a new era of life — they also reveal Rema’s artistic maturation. Each shift in vocal delivery adds new textures to the 2010s Afrobeats-nodding instrumentation; instead of simply delivering lyrics, he morphs into his own instrument and weaves himself into every chord. 

Pre-release singles “Hehehe” and “Benin Boys” (with Shallipopi) play even better in the context of the full album. The former finds Rema temporarily playing to the villain role to mock his haters, while the latter reads as a celebration of Benin culture from two homegrown stars, who seek to uplift and protect it from those who ignorantly demonize it. Sandwiched between those two tracks is “Yayo,” perhaps the record’s most accessible song – and the one Rave & Roses fans will likely find most appealing, with its catchy melody and grind culture-affirming lyrics (“Money yakpa for my bank oh/ How to make money is all I know”) 

At just under half an hour, Heis never overstays its welcome, but that doesn’t mean Rema completely avoids repeating himself. While having a chip on your shoulder can bolster your assertiveness, it often gives way to defensiveness on the album’s back half – and that’s where its cracks start to show. The title track – which features a Swahili chorus that basically lauds Rema as the hottest thing to ever touch Planet Earth – feels particularly excessive because he’s already covered the same lyrical ground elsewhere on the album. There’s also “Villain,” the album’s penultimate track, in which he croons, “I dey hustle since people dey laugh me/ The way I dey run my things, I do it differently, now dem dey copy me.” But by track 10, these sentiments feel stale, if not overbearing. 

In its entirety, Heis is a captivating album; one that inspires countless listens because of how its intricate production reveals new elements with each encounter. With the album’s closer, “Now I Know,” Rema wraps everything up quite cleanly, offering new perspectives to the darkness that subsumes the record with one soulful ballad. “I dey move like Messi when he dey for Barcelo/ E get as God go bless person, dem go talk say na devil oh,” he opens the second verse, before proclaiming “And now I know who dey for me/ All thosе I trust turned enemiеs” in the chorus.  

After dousing himself in an amalgamation of edgy aesthetics to further cement his Afrorave style, Rema, in a way, becomes human again on this album closer. His plaintive tone reflects the maturation he’s undergone in the past two years, while also calling back to the timbre he most often used on his debut LP. He’s still the same Rema, but he’s demanding a different level of respect – not just because of his superstar status, but because of his steadfast commitment to uplifting his culture and bringing it along with him at any cost. 

If you fell in love with Rema off the strength of his sweet crossover pop moments, his latest album probably isn’t for you. But if you’re willing to be led down a journey of self-discovery and style formation, Heis is the map for that odyssey.