Kendickson’s “God’s Plan” Is a Quiet Manifesto for the Patient and the Called
There’s a certain kind of artist who arrives with nothing but conviction. Kendickson has always felt like that type — measured, emotionally literate, and intentional about the spaces he occupies. With ‘God’s Plan’, he opens his 2026 account with a statement of purpose.
For those who have been paying attention, Amu Kingsley Chibuike — known professionally as Kendickson — has been steadily sketching his outline within Afropop’s ever-expanding canvas. Records like ‘Ride or Die’ and ‘Remind Me’ leaned into romance and vulnerability, pairing textured emotion with accessible rhythm. It resonated with many, and the numbers followed: millions of cumulative streams, a City People Music Award for Best New Act, and quiet nods from tastemakers, including recognition on Ghanaian watchlists spotlighting new Nigerian talent. But if those records introduced him as promising, his new release, ‘God’s Plan’, is framing him as intentional.
At its core, ‘God’s Plan’ is beyond triumph in the loud, champagne-splash sense. It is about endurance — the unglamorous middle stretch of belief.
From the first few seconds, the production establishes restraint as a philosophy. Warm percussion patterns sit comfortably within Afrobeats tradition, but they’re not engineered for frenzy. The drums breathe, and the tempo creeps with a gentle melodic progression—likely built on layered synth pads and subtle guitar licks—carrying emotional weight without tipping into melodrama. It feels devotional but contemporary, reflective yet forward-facing. The sonic architecture is disciplined, allowing space for the message to land without distraction.
And that message is clear. Kendickson writes from the vantage point of someone who understands silent labor with no hints of performative flex. Instead, he leans into themes of personal sacrifice, discipline, and spiritual reliance. His delivery is calm and firm, as though he’s testifying, molding ‘God’s Plan’ as his personal take on success as something internal and divine-led.
One of the record’s most resonant philosophical anchors, “Onipa nti se Onyame,” draws a sharp distinction between human limitation and divine authority. It’s a powerful insertion—culturally specific but universally understood. By blending Nigerian Pidgin, English, and Twi, Kendickson code-switches, perhaps for aesthetic effect, which ultimately expands the emotional reach of the record. ‘God’s Plan’ feels borderless in the way contemporary African music is at its best—grounded at home.
Vocally, he avoids excess. His tone carries quiet confidence — the kind that suggests someone who has already decided to trust the process, regardless of how long it takes. There’s no unnecessary belting nor dramatic runs meant to steal the spotlight. Instead, he leans into clarity with a deliberate phrasing.
What makes ‘God’s Plan’ compelling is how it resonates beyond the headphones. It feels aimed at young people navigating pressure, at creatives building in obscurity, at hustlers who understand what it means to carry weight alone. It’s music that soundtracks ambition; it stabilizes and grounds a listener.
With ‘God’s Plan’, Kendickson chooses meaning. And that choice feels strategic. As he inches toward a full-length project, this single serves as a thesis statement for his 2026 chapter—one rooted in resilience, faith, and cultural identity.
