On his third studio album, Zlatan once again succumbs to the weaknesses that plagued his debut LP.
When Zlatan announced Resan, expectations weren’t high and rightly so. While Zanku did have genre-defining bops and memorable moments, it failed to be a cohesive album that had anything substantial to say. It was all the more reason Resan blew people hats off because virtually no one was expecting such poignant chronicles of hustle, fame and success from Zlatan Ibile.
“Agege bread wey don turn to slice” Zlatan sang on That Guy, the album’s opener and vividly underscored the magnitude of his transtion from a nobody into a superstar. The album is littered with profound metaphors and great songs like that—which proved beyond reasonable doubt that there was more to Zlatan than catchy rap verses, splayed on pop-leaning rap songs.
Four years later, Zlatan is now ascending into OG status. He’s launched a succesful fashion brand and has also collaborated with a handful of underground acts that have thrived better, in the wake of his co-sign. He’s also well respected among his rap colleagues to the point of appearing in a prestigious cypher. Despite his sparse discography, he definitely has nothing left to prove so it’s curious why he would put out a whole album of ‘nothing’ because he has nothing new to say.
Pay Day sounds good for a moody, midtempo bop with some introspection detailing his rise from nothing to acclaim. Of course, there is nothing inherently wrong in rehashing themes of fighting to the top in spite of barriers—but the problem here is Zlatan isn’t doing enough to justify revisiting this topic. There is no fresh, gripping perspective or new story that contextualizes anything with an extra layer. The song is basically what it is on the surface.
Qing Madi vocals are angelic as always on Demons, but they aren’t enough to elevate Demons into true resonating territory. Once again, like Pay Day—what you see is what you get. The song is titled Demons and is basically about Zlatan fighting his demons, so they don’t get the better of him. The rap isn’t transcendent or charged with the type of raw vigor that is affiliated with ‘fighting demons’ and honestly, it’s quite underwhelming. Zlatan is no Phyno or Olamide, but he’s quite good at finding pockets on a beat and he barely tries on here.
Jazz horns permeate the atmosphere of Oyoyo, where Zlatan is once again rapping about his rise to success with no new or fresh nuance. “Even person wey follow me shit for church” he sings on the chorus, utilizing imagery that does absolutely nothing. The statement doesn’t provide insight on the gravitas of said person—whether they hated/supported him or they were poor/rich. It’s just the sort of bland metaphor that litters the album.
It is not an Afrobeats album without an Amapiano fusion record and this one is hilariously titled Hip Hop Messiah and features Davdo, a popstar. Does Zlatan do anything on the record to merit the title? He doesn’t even rap or melodic rap. This is a decent song, but you have to wonder why it’s titled this and why both artists are once again singing about the cathartic pleasure of success. Almost like there is barely any narrative crux of the album.
At least, Get Better has Fola singing on topic and not deviating off course. We’re six tracks in and Zlatan is yet to take off the gloves and turn in a stellar verse. His rap starts off documenting his experiences in the ghetto and how poverty afflicts its captives, but he fails to translate them into anything poetically substantial to elevate the song. Zlatan likens his love interest to a Diamond in the rough and extols her from being special among the rest.
It’s the most cliche sentiment any person could have towards their love interest and Zlatan doesn’t exactly enlighten us on how exactly she’s special, instead he spends the whole verse talking about himself and the pleasures she gives to him. One would think the song was about him and what he could get from her. Paypal is tailor made for Mayorkun and has the sort of kinetic bounce he thrives in but he hardly does anything with it.
Zlatan is once again underwhelming and the less said about this song, the better. Odeshi starts out with a good chorus that encompasses different facets to living large and having a blast at it. As soon as Zlatan starts rapping though, the song drops a tier to mediocre. The quality of rapping here is so elementary, blink and you’ll think you’re in a highschool cafeteria being regaled by a rap off by secondary school boys.
In case you didn’t get enough of Zlatan singing about success stories borne from a place of struggle, there is even more on Thy Kingdom Come. It’s a shame because this one would have made a competent standalone single, but because it’s coming after an onslaught of songs that straddle the same topics and have the same sonic template, it’s exhausting.
Genesis switches things up and heads into hiplife territory, but Zlatan’s overflogging of the same topic once again isn’t enough to dampen the quality of the song. Flavor is also immense as you’ll expect with impressive cadences that optimizes the production and a vocal texture that compliments the beat like gin and juice. Quite telling that one of the best songs on a Yoruba rapper’s album is an Igbo hiplife song.
Happy Day is more of the same uptempo rhythm, grass-to-grace narrative that dominates the album. It’s a filler track because there’s very little differentiating it from Thy Kingdom Come. Bebe is a ratchet street banger primed to set fire to dance floors at carnivals in the hood. It’s lamba that is right up Zlatan’s territory and he fits right in but it’s clearly a mismatch for Victony. Why the rapper thought deploying a non-street adjacent artist—who mostly thrives in melodic soundscapes—on premium lamba like this is lost on me.
Gimme Your Love is arguably the worst song on the album because Zlatan isn’t even trying. He repeats one line for the entirety of his verse and his chorus is equally one dimensional. There is little Olamide can do to salvage this mess, despite his competent cameo. Zlatan waits till the very last track, Alpha & Omega to turn in an inspired verse with athletic flows and quotables. Once again, he isn’t dropping phenomenal bars but his strength as a rapper has always been in his mastery of flows which he utilizes here. Bhadboi OML’s hook isn’t anything more than functional though.
Zlatan’s Symbol Of Hope isn’t an album made with care or attention to detail. The rapper spends the bulk of the album talking about his success in less interesting ways, in contrast to his last album—without using it to anchor any meaningful metaphor of being a symbol of hope. The production is barely cohesive or focused either and is mostly all over the place. Listeners might find a few songs enjoyable, but it does very little to justify its tedious experience overall.
Final Verdict:
Sonic Cohesion: 1.2/2
Expansive Production: 1.1/2
Songwriting: 1.1/2
Delivery: 1.0/2
Optimal Track Sequencing: 0.8/2
Total: 5.2/10
