As someone who discovered Zaylevelten in February this year, when he released Watching Me, I consider myself one of his early fans. (Earlier fans, those who found him through before 1t g0t crazy or l0cked 1n—tapes he released in 2024—might chafe at this characterization.) Lying on my bed, one cool evening after work, I performed the distinctly 21st-century ritual of scrolling through X, the platform formerly known as Twitter, dutifully scanning its interminable sea of text and visuals for my latest dopamine hit. After what felt like 5 minutes I stumbled upon a snippet that stopped me in my tracks. “‘Watching me’ out on all plats,” the caption read. In the video, which pulses with the slightly off-kilter and grimy feel we often see in US and UK underground scenes, two guys dressed in all black outfits prance around over a discordant track. The clip is fashionably upbeat. The aspect ratio is distorted so that every person or object looks unnaturally long and lyrics in the font of Charlie XCX’s Brat haphazardly pop up on the screen. I was immediately arrested by Zaylevelten’s but even I couldn’t predict his surreal rise this year.
Since then, I’ve assiduously followed his blistering rise. Zaylevelten’s every release has sent shockwaves throughout the pop landscape, seemingly consolidating his base and strengthening the resolve of his antagonists. No more intense has this endless cycle of polarization been than in the days and weeks that followed the release of then 1t g0t crazy, a smorgasbord of tracks that foreground his distinctively Nigerian interpretation of Trap music, which he auspiciously released on the first of October this year. All of this has culminated in the deluxe edition of the project, cheekily titled then 1t g0t crazier. Indeed in this spruced-up edition, things get more intense. then 1t g0t crazier tops up its original version with the addition of four new tracks, two of which feature Odumodublvck and Mavo.
One of the chief pleasures of then 1t g0t crazy is its textured exploration of contemporary youth through a decidedly Nigerian lens. Consider, Guide Pass, a standout track on the project. Here he trains his attention on the familiar situation of friendships coming to an abrupt end as a result of the change in fortunes of a member of the friendship group. In the song’s overture, he addresses whispers of rancor between him and a friend, clarifying that he has no problems with anyone, he has simply transcended the friendship. “No be say we get issue I don pass you,” he intones.
Other times he’s more cavalier, nonetheless his unbridled swagger persists. In Pawon, a callback to Olamide’s single of the same title, he conjures a decadent scene. Inebriated and throbbing with virility, presumably at the cusp of sexual relations with a woman, he sings: “Upstairs. Make she climb up. I don high up. I no fit calm down baby climb up,” he raps. Abruptly, the song cuts to a different scene. Here he’s faced with a different dilemma: he has just received a lump sum and is pleading with his interlocutor not to forget the password. As with many other Hip Hop acts he often dawdles along moral boundaries, exploring subjects such as fraud, sexism-addled sexual relations (pun very much intended), and drugs. Depending on what moral standards you uphold, some of these themes might come across as off-putting. And yet, his ceaseless interrogation of morally questionable themes, paired with his sensibility for slang and unbelievably smooth flows, confer his music with frisson. Listening to the project feels a bit like being in the first flush of youth, feeling like the world is your oyster and nothing is beyond reach.
The four new additions on then 1t g0t crazier crackle with this familiar frisson. On Isa Lot, an ode to his, apparently, immense level of swagger, he regales himself and his audience with syrupy smooth flows and, occasionally, poignant lyrics that can catch one off guard. Between exuberant boasts and hilarious quips such as when he raps “Lamba anytime I’m yearning with a thot,” he sneaks in lines whose playful delivery might belie their depth: “Soft life from a hard life/ Tenski now my music don dey massive.” Wuse Tu, featuring Mavo and Lowzy, is similarly exhilarating. It’s just a shame that Idanski, which was already close to perfection, is undercut by a lackluster, bluster-riddled verse by Odumodublvck in the remix.
Earlier, I expressed astonishment at Zaylevelten’s increasingly rapid rise to fame. If a recent tweet he made is any indication, he also shares in this astonishment. “If someone told me I’d have over 5 songs touch a million streams by the end of this year I woulda called cap, we’ll keep going crazy I love y’all,” he writes. In explaining his rise, several theories abound. And yet, the most compelling one remains that his ascendancy owes something to his intrepid exploration of subjects that deeply resonate with young adults today.
