Terry Apala exists in a liminal space—one foot planted in the ancestral rhythms of Apala, the other in the pulsating modernity of Afrobeats. His music is both deeply traditional and fiercely futuristic, a paradox he wears like a well-tailored agbada. With Black & White, he leans into this duality, offering a project that feels like an intimate dialogue between past and present, between Yoruba folklore and digital-age maximalism.
This is an album of juxtapositions—of grit and polish, of nostalgia and innovation, of the hypnotic call-and-response of Apala and the smooth, hook-heavy finesse of contemporary Afropop. Each track feels like a sonic experiment in contrast, a deliberate play on light and shadow.
A Terry Apala project without a storytelling opener would be like a Fela Kuti song without saxophones. ‘Story‘ is his griot moment, a rich tapestry of spoken-word wisdom wrapped in his signature raspy vocals. The percussion feels ancient, almost ceremonial, but the production is sleek, letting his voice command the space with authority. This is not background music—this is an invitation to sit, listen, and absorb. The track sets the tone for an album that is as much about cultural preservation as it is about reinvention.
What happens when ancestral rhythm meets the bounce of modern Afrobeats? Sebebe is the answer. Terry Apala links up with producer Spellz for a track that pulsates with kinetic energy. The percussion is relentless, rolling like thunder in a storm-heavy sky, while the bassline provides the necessary groove to make this a club-ready anthem. There’s something almost ritualistic about the way Terry’s voice rides the beat—it feels less like a song and more like a spiritual invocation set to a metronome.
Marriage in African culture is not just a union; it’s a negotiation, a dance of tradition and expectation. Bride Price takes this concept and flips it into a slyly humorous, irresistibly melodic anthem. Bella Shmurda’s addition is a stroke of genius—his voice, raw and unfiltered, pairs beautifully with Terry’s gruff delivery. The song is both playful and introspective, a reminder that behind the festivity of weddings lies a complex social contract.
WurlD and Wizard Chan bring a different kind of magic to the Ep’s fourth track—where Terry’s voice is textured like raw earth, WurlD’s is ethereal, floating like mist over water. The juxtaposition is mesmerizing. Na You feels like a sonic bridge between Apala’s raw traditionalism and the futuristic sheen of alternative R&B. The production is lush, layering synths over traditional percussion in a way that makes the track feel both nostalgic and new. This is genre-blurring at its finest.
Terry Apala doesn’t just make music; he makes statements. Methuselah is the kind of track that forces you to pause and digest. Named after the biblical figure who lived for 969 years, the song is a meditation on endurance—of culture, of legacy, of sound. The minimalist production lets his voice breathe, and in that space, every word feels weighty. This is music for deep thinkers, a moment of introspection in an album otherwise bursting with kinetic energy.
If Methuselah is philosophical, Allow Me is purely about vibes. This is Terry Apala at his most confident, weaving through a beat that feels like it was designed for late-night drives and champagne-popping celebrations. The tempo shifts, the percussion stutters, and his voice skates over the instrumental with effortless bravado. This is a reminder that while Terry can be deeply introspective, he also knows how to make a track that just feels good.
Every album needs a closer that feels like an exhale, a moment where the artist takes a step back and revels in their creation. FLEX is that moment. It’s celebratory without being excessive, introspective without being heavy-handed. The beat has a lightness to it, allowing Terry’s voice to dance freely over it. There’s a sense of triumph here—like he’s fully aware of the risks he’s taken with this project and is basking in the satisfaction of its success.
With Black & White, Terry Apala isn’t just making music—he’s carving out a space for an entire movement. This is not an album that panders to the mainstream, nor is it one that alienates. It walks the line between two worlds, existing in a space where tradition and modernity don’t just coexist but complement each other.
The beauty of Black & White lies in its contrasts. It’s old and new, smooth and rough, spiritual and secular. In an industry that often rewards artists for blending in, Terry Apala stands defiantly apart, a torchbearer for Apala’s future in a world that’s constantly evolving.
Ratings : 8.5/10
