Album Review: Wipe Dem Out by Black Blood – A Reggae Vibe Straight from Nigeria
Alright, let’s dive into Wipe Dem Out by Black Blood. This Nigerian reggae gem is like that friend who shows up uninvited but ends up stealing the party. The album feels raw, authentic, and packed with vibes that make you wanna grab a cold drink and just… vibe.
First off, shoutout to Nwagu Joel for the artwork and design concept—it’s simple yet striking, kinda like the music itself. And props to Osy Denobis, who wore about five hats here (producer, engineer, drum machine wizard—you name it). You can tell this crew put their soul into this project. It’s not perfect, but maybe that’s what makes it so damn good.
Now, onto the tracks. I gotta talk about “Manna Of Freedom” first because, wow, does it slap. Eno Ukpong, aka “Eez Natty,” brings some serious vocal heat on this one. His voice has this raspy grit that just pulls you in, like he’s telling you something important over a bonfire. The bassline? Smooth as butter, thanks to Henry Pedro holding it down. There’s also this saxophone solo by Moses Martins that sneaks up on you—like, wait, when did we get to jazz territory? But somehow, it works. This track sticks with me because it doesn’t just sound nice; it feels necessary, like a call to action wrapped in reggae rhythms.
Then there’s the title track, “Wipe Dem Out.” If you’re looking for energy, this is your jam. The percussion duo of Segun Agbeniyi (“Rootsy Man”) and Eno Ukpong himself lays down these hypnotic beats that feel primal, almost tribal. When Elimby Oscar (“Hot Cooler”) comes in with his lead guitar riff on this one, it’s like fireworks going off in your ears. Lyrically, it’s bold and unapologetic—a rallying cry against corruption and bad vibes. Listening to it feels like standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a crowd chanting for change. Honestly, if this song doesn’t get your blood pumping, check your pulse.
Other standout moments include “Jamming (No Man’s Land),” which is exactly what it sounds like—a chill groove session where everyone gets to shine. George Orwells’ keyboard work adds this dreamy layer that floats above the rhythm section. And don’t sleep on Tiwa Ogunlowo’s trumpet blasts—they cut through the mix like sunlight breaking through clouds.
What really hits home about Wipe Dem Out is how organic it all feels. It’s not trying too hard to be anything other than what it is: a labor of love from a group of talented Nigerians making reggae their own way. Sure, there are minor flaws—an occasional rough edge in the production, a transition or two that could’ve been smoother—but those imperfections give the album its charm. It’s real. It’s alive.
Final thought? This album reminds me of why music exists in the first place—to connect, to move, to shake things up. Listening to Wipe Dem Out feels like stumbling upon a hidden treasure chest at the beach. Except instead of gold coins, it’s full of basslines, horns, and rebellion. Oh, and here’s the kicker—I bet even Bob Marley would nod along to this one. Peace out.
