The very first four seconds arrest you as you listen. It’s familiar, a bit bubbly, but distinct. That mix of trap crank and trap-soul drums, spiced with an Afropop flow. Who could this be? I mused on it for a moment as the song continued playing on my Spotify DJ playlist. There are several people this could sound like, including some of this writer’s favourites, such as Ayomipo, Bryson Tiller, CKay, Omah Lay, Kaestyles, and a few others who have understood that sweet spot between moody and exciting music.

But this time around, it’s a relatively unfamiliar name, Segun Aniyi — a rising Nigerian troubadour with an exciting catalogue of R&B and pop music.

“Heaven” seems to be one of the most exciting fusions from the chap, and it shines for several qualities. Firstly, the song starts like a quick stroll into his thought process, establishing its storyline quite early. He talks about being “all alone in his mind” and trying to reach a lady who hasn’t been responsive to his advances. Then, he segues into saying he doesn’t want them to end up in a bad place, and all he needs to save their yet-to-be-established relationship is one conversation. In that conversation, he intends to show her heaven. That’s the plot. Quite simple, exciting, and it’s the execution that bamboozles one.

In Aniyi’s drift, he composes the song to start with an exciting trap-soul/Afropop bounce, layering it with his high-tempo singing. He sounds hyper-melodic at the beginning, keeping things groovy, youthful and funky in the way he lays his verses. Then, at the bridge, where he’s supposed to transition into yet another exciting part of the song, he does the exact opposite, slipping into about six bars of dull, low-tempo singing. For the compositional architecture, this makes the song feel wholesome and cohesive. However, as far as melodies go, it presents a bit of a problem.

Before examining how he disjoints the flow, it’s important to acknowledge the thought process behind juxtaposing the music with its message. On one hand, there are his groanings and lamentations of unrequited love, accompanied by melancholic music. On the other, he’s already fantasising about what could happen when they eventually have that conversation, and everything sounds bubbly and rosy, exactly as the music suggests.

It makes so much sense for lyrical emphasis. That’s another pleasure spot of this song, where Aniyi establishes a certain poetry within the music. One could listen to the music alone and still appreciate the artistry in how these emotions are arranged. Melodically, it also has a cathartic feel, especially with the contrasting emotions running through the song. At some point, you’re unsure whether this person is happy or lamenting. But when you consume everything together, the full picture emerges.

However, melodically, this feels like a risky attempt that could benefit from some reshaping. At the bridge, particularly where he sings, “Girl, I don’t think you understand,” and goes on to explain that he doesn’t want them to end up in a bad place, pleading for a conversation, the music simmers into a dull passage. One could easily skip those portions just to return to the groovier parts of the record.
On the first listen, and especially at the first bridge, it’s forgivable. But because that same motif repeats itself about three other times, it becomes increasingly noticeable, dulling the overall enjoyability of the song.

It’s almost like someone trying to cross the Lagos lagoon using the Third Mainland Bridge, but for some reason, deciding against it and opting for some inner-street roads, perhaps even a pedestrian bridge, and continuing the journey on foot. The destination remains the same, but the journey becomes unnecessarily tedious. Aniyi could have maintained a different pace that matched the overall tempo of the song without distorting the listener’s experience. The bridge itself was necessary for the emotional direction he was pursuing, but its melodic execution could have been more exciting.

Nonetheless, the song also shines for its production. It feels like a feel-good but larger-than-life kind of track. Think songs from BNXN, or Joeboy, and you get a mental picture of how Aniyi’s soundscape is designed to make the listener feel.

“Heaven” is a vulnerable and intimate track, and the production retains those sensibilities, especially in how the synthy piano loops marry well with the drums. It’s important to have chords that complement the percussion rather than clash with it. Here, instead of too many sharp contrasts, there are subtle fillers, occasional solo moments and an overall calm unison that makes sense for the record. Everything feels measured, allowing the melodies and the emotions behind them to breathe.

Overall, “Heaven” is quite a tender romantic track. It’s mood-stabilising and easily one of Aniyi’s more captivating releases. Safe to say, it has the makings of an evergreen. It’s a tender message presented cleverly, even though with some pitfalls. Still, it ranks high for its shock value, replay value, good songwriting, great production and an overall impressive thematic direction.

“Heaven” is the kind of song you listen to in the morning, perhaps during a slow start to the day, or somewhere mid-shift in the afternoon, or simply for pleasure at night. Essentially, it’s music for any time of the day. And while it draws inspiration from the idea of heaven, as several faiths teach, it’s also a reminder of how much our harmony with one another can create a little heaven on earth. It sits at 8/10.