Five Takeaways from Ayra Starr’s New Album ‘The Year I Turned 21’
Ayra Starr’s sophomore album is a layered coming of age affair that combines pure self-confidence, moments of vulnerability and sharpened pop star instincts.
In short hindsight, some things just feel predestined, likeAyra Starr ascending to stardom immediately after her eponymous debut EP introduced her to listeners at the top of 2021. You can go back to the video for the singer’s debut single, “Away,” and you could see she already carried herself like a star. She already knew, and somehow we’ve been playing catch-up to that unvarnished self-belief.
Starr has scored more than a handful of hit songs, toured and performed on stages around the world, snagged a significant Grammy nomination, and is undeniably one of the most magnetic pop stars around.
The Year I Turned 21, the sequel to Starr’s debut album 19 & Dangerous, strengthens the case for her precociousness. In several ways, it’s a coming-of-age affair. Also, it’s a reaffirmation that makes hubris feel invigorating. There has never been any coyness to Starr’s artistry, and even when she lets her guard down to get more personal than ever on her sophomore LP, you can tell that she’s earning every stripe of her invincible persona in real-time.
Below are five takeaways from The Year I Turned 21.
The Imperial Starr Strikes Again
“I don’t watch my tone ‘cos I like how I sound,” goes one of several searing lines on the intro track, “Birds Sing of Money.” Ayra Starr’s attitude for most of her new album leans into how unfazed she is. Sure, part of it is in the bouts of invincibility that come with youth, but where the brags on her last album were partly carried by an eagerness to assert herself, she’s just deeply unbothered by anything or anyone that she deems inconsequential these days. On the most recent pre-album single, “Bad Vibes,” she swats away negativity with casual annoyance, a marked tone shift from when she was going after vibe killers. Now, her charisma alone feels inevitable.
A Divinely Ordained Mantle
It’s unmissable that Ayra Starr’s spiritual belief fuels her self-belief. On the Grammy-nominated “Rush,” where she declared herself as the Sabi Girl, there was a divine tilt to her assuredness. It’s a recurring motif on TYIT21, noticeable in both macro and micro doses. “I carry God so I fear nothing,” she says on the lead single, “Commas.” She proclaims that, “God they see in me,” on “Bad Vibes,” with an added Alleluia for emphasis. Even on the girlboss anthem, “Woman Commando,” she lets it be known that her “grace is from Jehovah.”
Lodged in the back third of the album is “Orun,” a gospel-adjacent song with a Juju-inspired rhythm. On it, Starr warmly sings of her relationship with God, framing it as a necessary reliance for her growth, personal and otherwise. When she says, “I don’t think there’s ever been any like me from these parts,” it comes across as an acknowledgement that her talent was furnished from above.
Ayra Starr is For the Girls
In Nigerian music, much like in global pop, there’s usually pressure on women to conventionally appeal to men. Ever the liberal one scoffing at the status quo, Ayra Starr could care less about all that. It’s not that she’s actively alienating men, but she’s said that she’s primarily for the girls (and the gays). That has always been evident in her music and it’s even more seared into this album.
The most obvious marker is “Woman Commando,” a girls-only party joint with Brazilian superstar Anitta and R&B singer Coco Jones. Beyond that, a lot of it is inferred but it’s incredibly easy to spot who the primary audience is. The buttery kiss-off on “Goodbye (Warm Up)” caters to ladies moving on from a situation where their partners don’t worship them. Asake’s gangster-type simping is reactive within this context.
Even on the googly-eyed love songs like “Rhythm & Blues” and “Lagos Love Story,” the wholesome perspective celebrates lover girls being with emotionally available, soft partners.
A Musical Canvas Fitting for a Versatile Popstar
In the middle run of her sophomore album, Ayra Starr’s R&B base is at its most glaring, but it’s flavored to show an expansive width of choices. The sashaying groove of “Control” is accented by Spanish guitar runs, while the aqueous guitar riffs on “Lagos Love Story” is given a very Nigerian bent with its percussion choice. On “Last Heartbreak Song,” which aptly features Giveon, the maker of a song titled “Heartbreak Anniversary,” the atmospheric nature of the song fits both artists.
Generally, The Year I Turned 21 is filled with wide-ranging, meticulously executed and exciting music. Within the first four songs, listeners’ get a hip-hop-influenced opener (“Birds Sing of Money”), the baile funk lilt of “Goodbye,” a mid-tempo Afrobeats money anthem in “Commas,” and the maximalist bounce of “Woman Commando” is largely owed to South African bolobedu house. Even Nigerian pop nostalgia pops up on “Jazzy’s Song,” where producer P.Priime samples Wande Coal’s “You Bad” for a homage to Starr’s label boss and undeniable Nigerian music great, Don Jazzy.
The Piercing Vulnerability of a Starr
Amidst all of the confidence being exuded, Ayra Starr isn’t afraid to let listeners know that she doesn’t have everything figured out. “What it feels to be more than twenty-one / I've never known, I've never tried, never loved,” she sings on the soulful semi-title track. It’s an acknowledgement that there’s still things to learn in the near and far future, but as she says on “1942,” in what could essentially be interpreted as her mission statement, “I don’t wanna lose.”