For most debut albums, sequencing is an afterthought, a matter of gluing together singles and a few filler tracks. Fola’s Catharsis isn’t built that way. It plays like a curated ride, an emotional rollercoaster that begins with a whisper, swells into an anthem, and collapses into reflection. It is messy, inconsistent, contradictory, and all the more human for it.
That messiness is precisely what makes Catharsis compelling. Fola doesn’t posture as a perfectionist who has tied up every loose end; instead, he hands us fragments of himself, sometimes raw, sometimes reckless, sometimes refined. One moment he is chasing transcendence, the next he is drowning in lust, then suddenly he’s crooning about ambition. The inconsistency doesn’t flatten the record; it animates it. It mirrors the chaotic psychology of a 24-year-old artist still figuring himself out in real time, and in that truth, the project finds its power.
The eleven track album opens with “Gokada”, a soulful intro that announces Fola as both storyteller and trickster. Borrowing Asake’s choir-stacked vocal template, he declares he “delivers like Gokada.” Delivery here is double-edged: is he talking sex, or artistry? Both, probably. The tension between braggadocio and vulnerability sets the tone for what follows, an album unafraid of contradiction.
Then comes “Eko”, and the album tightens its grip. It begins with a female voice note, possibly an angry ex, dismissing a 24-year-old Fola as a man without direction. What might’ve been a skit turns into a full-on confrontation with Lagos hustle culture and personal failure. The percussion is jubilant, the chorus (“Go home or go harder”) an instant earworm. Yet Fola’s vocal delivery is weighted, heavy with resignation. It’s Afrobeats as therapy: dancing while it hurts.
With “Golibe,” Fola recruits Victony for a breezy romantic detour. It’s quintessential Afrobeats, bouncy, sweet, radio-ready. Victony’s silky delivery complements Fola’s earthy tone, and the track reads like a reset after the bruises of “Eko.”
Track four, “You,” produced by Kel P, was already in circulation before the album dropped on September 5. Its emotive pull is undeniable. Built on chord progressions reminiscent of Daft Punk and The Weeknd’s “I Feel It Coming,” the song is sticky, soft, and sweet. It’s the kind of single that glues casual listeners to a project, and here, it shines as the album’s emotional anchor.
By the time we hit “Lost” (featuring Kizz Daniel), the narrative swells into something bigger. The single has already earned Fola millions of streams, radio spins, and a visible cultural footprint. Its success alone is enough to cement him as more than a newcomer. What’s striking is not just the record’s catchiness but how seamlessly Fola bends heartbreak into a commercial juggernaut.
The sixth track, “Healer,” is a team effort—five producers (Hoodini, Chuma Nwokike, Harrison Song, Adam Fritzle, Josh Milligan) stitching together a lush sonic bed. Here, Fola dons his loverboy persona unapologetically. It’s a spiritual high point: romantic, earnest, and dripping with sincerity. If there’s one song that embodies the album’s title, this is it.
“Cruise Control” is foreplay disguised as music, midtempo, teasing, too short to fully settle in. Then “Robbery” with Gabzy slides in, carried by guitar lines that deserve their own visual treatment. Gabzy’s distinct voice dovetails with Fola’s Yoruba-English pidgin mix, producing one of the album’s most textured and satisfying moments.
The last leg is a sprint across moods. “Caricature” is another love song, warm but less essential. “Disco,” with Young Jonn, is the album’s closest thing to a party starter, easy, playful, tailored for movement. Then comes the closer: “It’s Going.” Here, Fola pulls back the curtain on ambition, money-chasing, and exhaustion. It’s reflective, weary, and honest—an apt curtain call for a debut that thrives on tension between pleasure and pain.
If there’s a critique of Catharsis, it’s Fola’s thematic drift. He can go from the depths of heartbreak to the shallows of sex in one breath, rarely tethering the project to a single through-line. His songwriting occasionally feels scattered, almost evasive. But here’s the thing: his talent is undeniable, and his execution so magnetic that you stop caring. Fola’s inconsistency is his humanity, and Catharsis is, after all, about release, not perfection.
Catharsis works on three planes. For Fola, it’s a personal exorcism, an artist arriving with his scars intact. For listeners, it’s communal therapy, a reminder that joy and pain dance on the same floor. And for Afrobeats, it’s a necessary detox, proof that the genre can cradle vulnerability without losing its swagger.
Score: 8.7/10 — An imperfect, brilliant, and necessary debut that expands Afrobeats’ emotional vocabulary.
