Tems, Victony, King Promise, Odeal and More on New Music Friday

New Music Friday arrives this week with the energy of a late-night confession—intimate, unguarded, and steeped in the kind of emotional honesty artists reserve for their most revealing seasons. From Tems’ surprise EP that feels like a whispered benediction, to Victony’s sharpened resilience, to King Promise and Davido’s velvet-and-fire duet, today’s releases trade spectacle for sincerity. It’s a lineup where vulnerability becomes a flex, craft becomes catharsis, and every drop feels like an artist cracking open a new chapter. Whether you’re here for the hushed, the heavy, or the hedonistic, this Friday’s palette offers a mood for every version of you.

Tems — Love is A Kingdom (EP)

2X Grammy Award winner Tems arrives unannounced, a queen slipping into the room without fanfare with a new surprise a little over a year after her Grammy-nominated debut studio album, ‘Born in the Wild’. Titled ‘Love Is a Kingdom’, the surprise seven-track EP is the hush after, a meditative sanctuary where love’s labyrinths are mapped with unflinching grace. Self-produced, composed, and written almost entirely by Tems (with nods to GuiltyBeatz, AOD, and V-Ron), this 22-minute exhale follows ‘Born in the Wild’s’ Grammy-nominated sprawl, distilling her alté R&B essence into something profoundly intimate: vulnerable steel wrapped in silk, demanding headphones over headlines.

The EP opens with “First”, a stirring self-love manifesto that sets the tone: over warm, minimal synths and a gentle Afrobeats pulse, Tems croons, “Hanging by myself these days / That’s the way I light it up,” her voice—a textured force that dips and soars, affirming reclaimed identity with quiet ferocity. It’s the sonic equivalent of drawing boundaries, echoing the emotional architecture of her “Free Mind” era but honed sharper and more resolute. Tems approaches the ‘Love is Kingdom’ EP solo with no features and a production favouring stripped-back acoustics, faded R&B sheen and Afrobeats elements that lets every breath land like a vow. The track’s intimacy pulls you in, a prelude to the kingdom’s core: love not as conquest, but as careful construction.

Doubt creeps in on “I’m Not Sure”, where lilting melodies and atmospheric haze cradle romantic indecision—”Is this the fire or just smoke?”—her falsetto weaving vulnerability with her lyrics. It’s a pivot to the heart’s grey zones, blending soulful introspection with subtle Afrobeats flavors. The standout surge hits with “Big Daddy”, a bold, witty reversal of abandonment: energetic bursts of percussion clash with frantic chill, Tems’ soaring vocals calling out betrayal (“You left when the storm hit; now watch me build my own”) in a tone that’s equal parts epiphany and earworm.

“Lagos Love” grounds the reverie in a sultry hometown pulse, a soulful ode to honest connection over mid-tempo grooves that evoke the city’s chaotic romance—horns faint, bass insistent, Tems affirming alignment like a lover’s pact sealed at dawn. “Mine” flips the script to divine thrall, her voice commanding affection with lover-girl prowess, while the closer “Is There A Reason” (co-created with LA’s V-Ron) strips it bare: heart-tugging acoustics and transcendent introspection probing love’s why’s, leaving echoes of healing in the quiet. Thematically, it’s a non-linear odyssey—self-worth, devotion, spirituality—ruminating on power’s double edge without resolution’s rush, a long-held breath released in soul, R&B, and Afropop shifts. Tems at her most unguarded, trading armor for silk, her royalty intact even in repose.

Victony — Very Stubborn (EP)

Fresh off the critical acclaim of his 2024 debut album ‘Stubborn’ a sprawling, resilient tapestry dubbed a “one-of-one” for its raw Afropop alchemy, Victony drops ‘Very Stubborn’, an 8-track EP that refuses to yield. This project feels like a sharper blade: intimate, unpolished, and laser-focused on the toll of triumph. Victony’s ‘Very Stubborn’ sees features from industry’s heavyweights like Don Jazzy, Olamide, Terry G, and Shorae Moore in tow.

Clocking in at a taut 24 minutes, ‘Very Stubborn’ opens with “Way Home” ft. Shorae Moore, a piano-drenched confessional that sets the EP’s introspective tone. Victony’s falsetto—that ethereal, sky-scraping wail he’s honed since his ‘Outlaw’ days—hovers over minimal orchestral swells, dissecting the isolation of stardom: “Every step I take feels like I’m losing my way / Lights flash, but the shadows stay.” It’s sombre, almost too raw for a Friday banger, but that’s the point. This is a mirror for the grind, echoing the mental marathons he mapped on ‘Stubborn’.

The EP’s momentum builds with “Ordinary Things”, the Hoodini-produced lead single that snaps into melodic grooves. Here, Victony flips mundane heartbreaks into anthemic hooks: “You make ordinary things feel like the end of the world.” It’s his most radio-ready cut, blending distorted 808s with Afrobeats bounce, and it sticks like glue. But the real fire ignites on the lead release “Tanko” ft. Terry G, a chaotic street-hymn that channels pure Nigerian energy. Terry G’s gravelly veteran bark clashes gloriously with Victony’s controlled croon over raucous percussion.

“Skido” ft. Olamide shifts gears into swaggering bravado, with Olamide’s Baddo baritone trading verses on loyalty and betrayal. The production—cinematic strings laced with trap snares—mirrors the EP’s duality: high-energy facades masking private wars. Victony’s sharper lyricism shines here, ditching metaphors for direct jabs at industry snakes (“You smile in my face, but your venom’s in the shade”). It’s pensive yet propulsive, a thematic bridge to the closer, an untitled piano-led lament that jars like a cold splash—highs crashing into lows, public revelry dissolving into quiet pain. Don Jazzy’s touch on production threads it all, favouring sparse, orchestral-leaning beats that let Victony’s voice breathe.

What elevates ‘Very Stubborn’ is its sequencing. It’s meticulously paced, demanding a front-to-back flow that is refined and polished. With ‘Very Stubborn’, Victony plants permanence: themes of perseverance, fame’s double-edged sword, and unyielding identity feel like a “sonic diary of a man who refuses to bend”.

King Promise, Davido — Bad Habits

King Promise and Davido’s “Bad Habits” lands like a velvet rope at an exclusive afterparty: slick, unapologetic, and engineered for instant addiction. This mid-tempo Afrobeats gem, produced by the deft Gideonite (aka Gideon Frempong), clocks in at just over three minutes but packs the luxurious heft of a champagne-fuelled night out. A seamless fusion of King Promise’s honeyed croon and Davido’s gravelly swagger that turns self-sabotage into a seductive anthem.

The track unfurls with a lush, log drum-laced groove that bounces as warm synth chords swell gently, underpinned by a bassline that’s equal parts inviting and insidious. King Promise owns the hook, his falsetto gliding effortlessly over the melody like silk on skin—”Bad habits, yeah, you got me in your web / Can’t quit you, even when I know I should.” It’s playful yet confessional, channelling the thrill of toxic romance and lavish excess with effortless charm. King Promise layers vulnerability under glossy confidence, his voice a beacon for anyone romanticising their flaws. The production leaves breathing room for the vocals, a smart restraint that amplifies the intimacy without sacrificing dancefloor punch.

Then Davido storms in like the uninvited guest who owns the room, his verse a high-octane injection of bravado: jet-setting boasts, lavish spending sprees, and that signature rasp trading lines about a lover who “brings out the demon in me”. Davido’s verse is energetic, aspirational, and laced with ad-libs that echo like aftershocks, perfectly offsetting King Promise’s smoothness. Their chemistry crackles without overshadowing; it’s a true duet, where Davido’s raw edge sharpens King Promise’s polish into something dangerously replayable.

On first play, the highs on “Bad Habits” are immediate, the hook burrows deep, the beat’s subtle builds reward headphones, and the runtime zips by without filler. King Promise and Davido’s ‘Bad Habits’ is pure escapism tailor-made for replay loops amid Nigeria’s storm clouds.

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Odeal — The Fall That Saved Us (EP)

Odeal’s ‘The Fall That Saved Us’, is a nine-track EP that serves as the moody counterpart to July’s ‘The Summer That Saved Me’, the sun-kissed, 4-million-stream juggernaut of self-rediscovery with standout tracks like “My Heart”, “Patience” and “Monster Boys”. ‘The Fall That Saved Us’ continues a story that began two EP releases ago on ‘Lustropolis’ but aims to trade basking glow for introspective frost, where renewal blooms from release and an attempt at closure.

The British-Nigerian R&B savant, fresh off dual 2025 MOBO sweeps for Best R&B/Soul Act and Best Newcomer, crafts a 23-minute meditation on love’s wreckage and ego’s unravelling: toxic tethers, quiet grief, and the grace in letting go. Odeal’s ‘The Fall That Saved Us’ is a sonic cocoon, warm yet wounding, Afrobeats whispers laced with alté soul and R&B tenets.

The EP unfurls with “Reason” ft. Elijah Fox, a string-swept opener that drapes Odeal’s baritone in velvet haze, pondering a flame’s flicker: “You were the warmth I chased through the cold.” Elijah Fox’s piano adds a confessional shimmer, evoking Frank Ocean’s Blonde-era vulnerability but grounded in Odeal’s signature delivery that rests on subtle log drums pulsing like a hesitant heartbeat. It’s tender, almost too soft for an entry point, yet it hooks with Odeal’s storytelling finesse, humanizing desire as both salvation and snare. The vibe thickens on “Molotov”, a smoldering mid-tempo where smoky synths and restrained percussion mirror emotional volatility: lyrics like “One spark and we burn it all down” capture the thrill of restraint’s edge, his voice dipping into gravelly resolve that feels lived-in, not performed. “Cold World” hits like frostbite, Odeal’s grim croon over sparse acoustics dissecting deprivation: “Girl, you’re deprived, so tired, but you couldn’t trade it for the world if you tried,” a raw gut-punch on love’s addictive toxicity that lingers like smoke. It’s the EP’s emotional nadir, raw and unflinching, bridging to “Blur”‘s bebop bounce: lighter grooves with trap-infused snares inject urgency, exploring temptation’s haze as Odeal trades verses on blurred loyalties (“Options pull, but your shadow stays”). Production nods to P2J and TMXO keep it eclectic, cinematic swells on “Addicted” fold around his pleas, rhythmic grooves underscoring resilience, while “Pretty Girls” (now with a sleek visualiser of dropping city lights and candid gazes) flips bravado into bittersweet reflection, a nod to fleeting connections amid growth’s grind.

The back half ascends toward light: “Wicked” probes inner demons with soulful hooks, and “Children of Yeshua” glows in spiritual affirmation, with glowing harmonies praising a lover’s divinity like a hymn for the healed—before closing on “Nights in the Sun” featuring Wizkid. Wizkid’s effortless falsetto weaves through starry Afrobeats waves, a grand reconciliation: “We fall to rise under these nights,” their chemistry a seamless Naija-UK bridge that elevates the closer to a euphoric exhale. Thematically, it’s seasonal alchemy of summer’s freedom yielding to fall’s reckoning, ego-death birthing renewal—as Odeal’s OVMBR ethos (Our Variances Make Us Bold & Relentless) pulses through, turning the project into one of collective vulnerability.

DJ Tunez, Wizkid, ODUMODUBLVCK — Easy With Me

Tossing in yet another release before the close of the music year, DJ Tunez continues his release streak by teaming up with Wizkid and ODUMODUBLVCK on the three-minute fusion bomb. Marking their second collaboration in 2025 following ‘Big Time’, Wizkid’s effortless ether meets ODUMODUBLVCK’s drill-edged grit, all under DJ Tunez’s curatorial finesse. The track is a velvet-gloved haymaker, preceded by a deceptively chill opener exploding into controlled chaos that screams playlist dominance and club immortality.

The track ignites with a hypnotic log drum pulse and shimmering synths, Wizkid gliding in with a laid-back delivery that is almost hypnotic, his falsetto a silken thread weaving confidence and allure: “Big Wiz, easy with me / Girl, you know the vibe, no stress, just us.” The production helmed by Ozedikus is a warm Afro-fusion bounce laced with modern trap restraint sits like a trance, inviting surrender before the switch-up. Then ODUMODUBLVCK crashes the serenity like a raving storm: punchy flows, typical aggressive delivery, and street-pidgin barbs: “No rivals in sight, but I move like a boss, easy with me or get lost”. His gravelly delivery—grime-infused, unyielding—contrasts Wizkid’s poise like silk versus steel, turning romantic ease into a selective manifesto.