There are few figures in 21st-century African pop culture as instantly recognizable, as relentlessly discussed, or as persistently underestimated as Davido. In the trinity of Nigeria’s Big 3 (with Burna Boy and Wizkid rounding out the roster) Davido is often seen as the populist. The crowd-pleaser against a crowd that does not always seem too pleased. But that’s a framing that sells him short. Because what Davido has actually been, across five albums now, is the most emotionally legible of the three; the one who bleeds out loud. In the Nigerian popular imagination, he is omnipresent, unignorable, and rarely uncomplicated. An indubitable truth that often gets flattened in the discourse, the endless debates about legacy, privilege, and performance, is just how relentlessly Davido has worked. How little has been handed to him, despite assumptions to the contrary. How, through consistency, hustle, and vulnerability, he has shaped himself into one of the most consequential voices in contemporary African music. 

5ive is an album deeply comfortable in its skin — for better or worse. The music is instantly recognisable: high-octane Afropop, occasionally bending into amapiano, afroswing, or dancehall, but never staying long enough. The beats are big. The hooks are bigger. The themes are still love, money, fame, pride, loss, and loyalty, all delivered with Davido’s trademark strain. But where previous albums occasionally buckled under the weight of ambition or expectation, 5ive is taut. It’s the work of someone no longer trying to prove he belongs. What he channels here is communal celebration. Every song is a thank you. To the fans, to his team, to his family, and to himself for not giving up. For not giving in. For returning, again and again, despite the odds. And there have been odds. Still, he sings.

The album opens with “Five by Alhanislam”, a soaring spoken word piece that immediately sets the emotional stakes and a tone of seriousness, of legacy. From there, he launches into “Anything,” an early highlight. It’s also the closest the album gets to answering the question that has dogged him since his debut: Who is Davido when you strip away the gold chains and billionaire lineage? He tells us: he remains here. Still standing. Still winning. To understand 5ive, one must understand the man behind it, not the caricature of wealth and drama that populates timelines, but the labourer beneath it. Son of a billionaire, OBO (Omo Baba Olowo) could have followed any path. But the choice to pursue music, and to do so in Nigeria, a country where class privilege is often a disqualifier in creative authenticity, was never an easy one. The perception that he bought his way into the industry clung to him but what he did, remarkably, was outlast that narrative.

For Davido, the answer has always been simple: you double down on what you know, you sharpen the tools that have always worked, and you invite the world to your table one more time. He’s always been sharp at curation, and here, he uses that instinct to full advantage, maintaining the formula but spicing it up with collaborations that reflect Afrobeats’ expanding international reach. He enlists R&B dab hand Victoria Monet for “Offa Me”, and the sensuality of her voice sandpapers Davido’s delivery. The reggae-leaning track with Shenseea and 450, “R&B”, is one of the LP’s most immediate pleasures — smoky, flirtatious, rhythmically agile. The Chris Brown collaboration, “Titanium,” is primed for commercial success, building on their previous chemistry and offering one of the album’s most radio-ready moments. Then there’s “Tek”, a breezy, bilingual bop alongside Becky G that leans a little into Latin pop.

But even when he’s on his own, Davido sounds locked in. With all the megastar’s resilience, he is also deeply human. Davido has been through a lot on and off the mic over the last decade. He has known loss and grief, joy and victory. He has stumbled and risen, faced criticism and doubt, and emerged stronger each time. He has endured the loss of friends, of collaborators, and most devastatingly, the death of his young son Ifeanyi in 2022.  His fourth studio album, Timeless, emerged from that grief as a kind of controlled catharsis: firm, declarative, built to keep him moving. Although Davido’s humility is often overshadowed by his larger-than-life persona, it is there. On “Lately,” one of the most vulnerable tracks decoyed in familiar bouncy amapiano beats, Davido humbly requests prayers and the intervention of God, “I have been through many things lately / Pray for me / Make you pray for me / No check am just dey pray for me”.

The singer has an affinity for wearing his heart loudly not on his sleeve, but across his chest, his voice, his hooks. He’s a romantic, sure, but he’s also a Yoruba man: famed for the art of sweet talking, often more fluent in flattery than in follow-through. It’s part of his charm. What sets him apart, though, is how genuine it still feels — how clearly he means the affection, even when life complicates the sentiment. Nowhere is that more potent than on “10 Kilo”, a solo standout that finds Davido squarely in his comfort zone — alone with a beat, singing to the woman he loves. He does this often. His wife, Chioma, has been a central muse for years.  Davido’s approach on the record is striking in its specificity and warmth. He’s celebrating one woman, in all her physicality, her thickness, her softness. He charms,  “Say this your body make me wan go gyrate / No fit concentrate / Ọrọbọ ten kilo / Dey chop my money and everything I get”.

Not every track lands with equal power. Some drift by more as vibes but even at its most ambient, the album doesn’t feel disposable. More crucially, the project carries a subtle undercurrent of defiance aimed at the noise. The stan wars. The Twitter trolls. The relentless online factionalism that’s become a bloodsport within Afrobeats fandom. Davido has never been the critics’ darling, nor the internet crowd’s default. But he has been the people’s artist and that, perhaps, is what frustrates the naysayers most. On this album, he doesn’t quite rebut the hate harshly; he simply renders it irrelevant while simultaneously giving us bops.