Asides drugs and alcohol, art is probably the most sought out form of escapism known to man. It makes sense, since people want to forget their sorrows and exist in a reality where said burdens are inexistent.
Great art offers the sort of immersion that could hold a consumer so spellbound, that they become oblivious to their surroundings and invariably, their reality. The reason a 495-page novel can feel so short and brief is because the story is so compelling that the words melt away in the reader’s eyes and transform into a picturesque experience. And why folks easily lose track of their time and shove their phones aside, when they’re witnessing great cinema.
Great music can be very immersive to the point of even great danger. Many accidents have transpired on the road, because some fella was too absorbed in the music, blasting from their earphones to look up at the incoming vehicle. However, for all its immersion and escapism utility—great art can also reflect the grueling nature of reality and its vices, whilst still being entertaining. Matter of fact, that’s the pinnacle of great art. After all, art is a medium of expression borne out of the artist’s experiences.
Llona’s Homeless belongs in this dignified category. Thematically, you can draw parallels between it and albums with dense themes like Omah Lay’s Boy Alone, Fireboy DML’s Apollo and Ayra Starr’s 19 & Dangerous. It’s always more commendable when an artist pulls off great music with dense themes, because it’s difficult to find the compromise between passing a message and ensuring entertainment. Don’t get it twisted, these aforementioned classics are first and foremost successful because they are entertaining, pleasant music to the ears before anything else. Nobody would give a damn about the complexity of your album, if the musicality isn’t profound.
Its overarching themes encompass mental health and its vices, using the voices of youths and struggling young adults as a focal point to make it personal to listeners, as it’s no news that the primary demographic and consumers of music are young people. Album opener, Still Scared emphasizes this point all too well. Running and running like a stray dog,” Llona sings, capturing how futile one’s efforts could be when the odds are stacked against you—in very few words. On this album, his writing is his greatest asset and he utilizes it well.
On Commander ft. Wizard Chan, “you know I came from nothing and I’m on my ten toes” Llona highlights his harsh and dogged background—and how it has forged him into the commander he is now. In a Twitter/X space chat with this writer, he revealed that whilst growing up, his home was raided by Boko Haram terrorists and he had a very close shave to death. The visceral documentary that was shot in his old neighborhood in Kano also attests to the fact that he had the roughest of come-ups. Which only emphasizes the gravitas of his resilience and makes it resonate even deeper.
Can’t Breathe is the closest thing you’ll get to a ‘fun’ record on this LP, with its swing infusion and Dancehall rhythmic flows. Despite the soundscape, it’s still a dense song like every other track on this album. At face value, it could strike you as your average braggadocious record from a popstar, but this song has a deeper subtext in the sense that Llona isn’t just beating his chest for the sake of it. He’s trying to rise above the shackles of his past and make something for himself in the present.
“Say na only this music, I no get plan B” Llona sings on Another Day, doubling down on his truth that music is his one true solace and also a ticket to a better life. It’s no wonder why this track is heavily a fan favorite and the way Llona glides over this drill beat, it’s clear he was a rapper familiar with such tight cadences and rhyme schemes.
HBP remix ft. Bella Shmurda was the breakout moment for Llona and it’s one of the more soulful cuts on the LP. The percussion here is more kinetic and alive, with multiple drum rolls on the Dancehall template that suits Shmurda’s sonic affinity like a glove. Stranger segues in smoothly with some soulful acoustic guitar chords and trumpet riffs. “Oh, you just a stranger. Stranger to me now” Llona sings and it’s quite clear he has made peace with the fact that his love interest wasn’t who he thought she was and he’s better off.
Gangsta Love Letter is another song that treads the terrain of Afro-bashment and garage music, which seems to be a soundscape Llona loves to be in as it enables him pockets to flex the dynamism of his pen. The message here is heart wrenching when you realize the reason why he’s writing a later in the first place, is because the grueling nature of his reality as a gangster wouldn’t let him love in the proper ways and be present in the lives of his loved ones, so he has to distance himself for their safety and suffer in isolation.
On Cold War ft. Fave, he is reeling from the effects of withdrawal from the loved ones he wrote letters to on the previous track and of course, lamenting that it’s a “cold world.” Fave brings a much needed fresh perspective, with her resentment stemming from a place of detractors doubting her as opposed to Llona’s more estranged angle.
Comforter and Billion Paper is the closest thing to a filler track sequence on the LP. Whilst the former is not a bad song in anyway, it’s just a less superior song built on that swing template like most of the album and Llona doesn’t exactly find something distinct to say on it. Billion Paper also suffers from the same problem and it’s mostly a rehashing of the themes from the 2 opening tracks. This LP could have done without this pair.
On Rollercoaster, Llona is reflecting on the past and expressing silent gratitude for the experiences that have forged him into the man he is today. Album closer, Forgive Me has the sort of classical guitar strings you’ll find on a Persian or an Indian record. “I just wan carry my family, mo get responsibility” Llona sings, and his triumph comes full circle now. After leaving the comfort of home and fighting to liberate himself, he’s now triumphed and wants to be the anchor for his loved ones. A beautiful conclusion to an emotional story arc.
Llona’s Homeless album is a body of work, that’s as tightly sonically cohesive as it is topically. It is the diary of a man from the darkest corridors of humanity, fighting for sanity and his chance to live his life without his demons lurking in every step. And at the end, he not only finds peace but also comfort with loved ones. When Llona told this writer, that this album came together by itself and it wasn’t something planned meticulously from the onset, it became even more glaring as to the impressive talent this man is.
Final Verdict:
Sonic Cohesion: 1.5/2
Expansive Production: 1.2/2
Songwriting: 2/2
Delivery: 1.6/2
Optimal Topical Progression: 1.0/2
Total: 7.3/10
