Tay Iwar’s songwriting is rich and emotive. And his vocals are calming, soothing, gentle. Over the years, he has proven to be a true musical prodigy. From the early days of Passport, where he introduced himself as a thoughtful experimentalist, to the culturally defining “Gemini” era that helped shape the landscape of Nigeria’s alté scene to essentially proven collaborations on “True Love” with Wizkid and Projexx, to his latest offering of a 5 track soulful EP, “Reflection Station,” Tay proves a solemn versatility.
As much as Tay Iwar has a knack for romantic tunes, his ability to create a body of work that focuses on introspection and vulnerability doesn’t come as a surprise. In his 2019 “Utero”, he displays one of the most deeply moving introspections. And somehow, “Reflection Station” feels reminiscent of that element but filters it through a more contemporary Afrobeats lens. The eponymous first track has Tay Iwar’s signature vocals and soulful melodies. You are thrown into a bubble of soul-searching immediately the song starts with a realization that begins to cloud your mind too, “In the quiet of reflection station. War is war, nobody’s gonna make it. We all carry scars, yeah no one can truly shake it.” And as the song progresses, he introduces a subtle interpolation of 2 Face Idibia’s 2006 “4 Instance” to give us a retro Afro RnB record.
“Bad Belle” is uplifting and encouraging, and a confidence booster. “Once I was lost but I found a way. Too many lessons along the way, will I go slow? See that’s something only heaven knows,” Tay reflects. He’s not loud about his growth; he simply acknowledges it, showing appreciation for the lessons and the process. “I know that God gave me everything that I need, so I never ever have to worry,” he sings with a quiet assurance.
Tay glides on the drums and distinctive piano timbre characterizing “Floating”. The lyrics reflect a desire to seek clarity away from the noise: “I took a plane away to see how I feel about the waves… Sun in my face I cannot be stressed.” It’s a beautiful depiction of escapism, not as a form of avoidance, but as a necessary distance for self-discovery. He switches it up with a solemn sultriness on “Nonstop,” deliberately and enticingly. And just when the song seems to settle into its softness, the chorus erupts: “Ibadi nijo wa, bere fun mi girl” provoking an intense desire to rock the dance floor with a lover and get lost in a lifetime of pleasure. The EP closes with its heaviest and most affecting track, “Survival,” Through a traumatic tale of running to safety at the brink of a debilitating war, it explores fear, displacement, systematic oppression, and weaponized poverty as vivid illustrations of a broken society consumed by chaos. And still, despite the weight, Tay doesn’t sound defeated. He sounds aware. Brave. Resilient.
In all, “Reflection Station” feels like a journey of quiet realizations, urging us to accept the things that can’t be changed, seek answers for the ones that can, and allow ourselves to just be. It’s experimental, yes. But more than that, it’s contagiously honest.
