Llona wears his vulnerability on his sleeve, sings about it from his soul and lets his eyes do the talking. A true loner.

Born Michael Ajuma Attah, the first of three boys to a single mother, Llona has lived many lives. He shared his upbringing in an interview and although he has traveled through Kaduna, Kano, and Lagos, the Kogi native still can’t escape his loneliness. That and more characterise ‘Homeless’ — his debut album — as the smoky-eyed and somber-singing artist poured out his heart on wax.

The album’s cover art is our introduction to his state of mind. Shot in his childhood home, it shows a melancholic man sitting on packed boxes outside a thatched house. The blurred images of the little kids running beside the more colorful Llona set the backdrop of different realities within the same life.

Llona bares his mind, soul, and body through his music. The lyrics are an extension of his subconscious, the melodies a fragment of his breathing, and the themes a mirror of his existence. But it’s never just about him. He is the voice of the voiceless, a beacon of hope for the folks, whom life has turned her beautiful back on. The Homeless!

Homeless: Bit by Bit

Llona bursts out of the blocks with Still Scared, a brief tale of where he comes from. Backed by heavenly choral harmonies, he floats over gentle piano chords, violin melodies, and a short spoken word poem. Pain, fear, escapism, and regret are a common marker of this opener as he narrates his battle to the top without a father. 

It quickly segues into ‘Commander’ where he teams up with the ethereal Wizard Chan. This duet would be perfect in a military movie where oppressed people come together to overthrow a despicable government. Sounds familiar? 

The album comes fully alive in ‘Can’t Breathe’. This sees Llona speak bullishly about surviving and thriving amid craziness. “You gon’ pay me money, and pay me respect.” And Slawn would say what? Amen.

On the fourth track, we see a previously released single, Another Day. Here, he lets us have another sneak peek into his reality. For him, music has been his way out. No plan B, no support, just him and his struggling family with only the hope a new day brings. 

“See, man don start to dey old oh…” 

That line triggers my insecurity and that of every other 20-something living in Nigeria today. I mean, why won’t it? Insecurity, corruption, inflation, stagnation, and more have plagued us. The list is endless. On HBP remix with Bella Shmurda, Llona spoke the mind of a youthful generation. We deserve better than this, we really do. And R.I.P. to the ones who have left us.

I’m jolted back to the present by a saxophone riff that reminds me of the one in ‘Careless Whisper’ by George Michael— Llona has entered his sad-lover boy bag as he speaks about an old acquaintance who has now become a Stranger. Ain’t life a bitch?

The next song begins with 40 seconds of blissful production that gives an eargasm. The synth that punctures the 0:20 minute mark left me yearning for more. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one. 

In Gangsta Love Letter, our depressed and angry militant star swaps his camo for an umbrella. It’s raining feelings out here, “I’m a gangster to my niggas. But, you call me, I will pick,” he says. Na man dey do man sha. This is the official love anthem for hard guys everywhere. You’re welcome.

On Cold War, another previously released single, Llona is joined by the amazing Fave. They’re soldiers-in-arms mulling over fake friends who’ve sold them out, people who didn’t believe in them, and internet trolls. To the duo, when it is all said and done, it is every person for himself. 

The next song is a sparse yet melodic song that would fly at house parties, clubs, bandos, and on the highway with your friends, zoot, and lover. Comforter is gospel for everybody – man, woman, stoner, and everything in between. “If I don’t smoke weed, then I cannot sleep” never sounded truer. 

In a calendar year that has given us some chart-topping songs about coping with drugs, the average cynic would probably think people are going crazy. But it’s not that deep. Or is it? Well, ask Llona.

We’ve entered the last 10 mins of the match. At this moment anything can happen even if the score seems confirmed already. The LP has reached its 10th track and nothing sounds out of place. Until now. The drums, while different and upbeat, are not Amapiano. Llona wants to make a Billion Paper and make the journey worth it. Evidently and unlike the saying, money maketh the man, I don’t care about what manners think. 

It’s well documented that Llona is a singer of sad songs. But his clear and introspective musings about that don’t get as much acclaim. On Rollercoaster, he waxes poetic about a plethora of emotions, and how that affects his mental health. “O boy Llona, I’m a loner.” Yes, you are, chief. Preach.

On the curtain closer, Forgive Me, the militant crooner asks for forgiveness for anyone he might have hurt in his journey. He recognizes his flaws and admits to them, even if they were unintentional. But what about him? Would he forgive his father? 

Final Thoughts

On the days that the familiar feeling of anxiety threatens to engulf me, I have a go-to plan to fight back. It’s simple — I channel my inner Jack Sparrow. Turn off all lights, roll down the curtain, pour myself a cup filled with rum, and press ‘Shuffle’ on Spotify.

That’s how I stumbled on Llona last year. My interest has been piqued ever since that encounter. Seeing him stay true to his authentic self in this album is a pleasure to behold.

A 12-track affair with 32 minutes runtime is as short as debuts come but Llona didn’t have to speak for an hour for us to hear him clearly. Introspective, soulful, conscious, melancholic, and vulnerable, are among a myriad of words you can use to describe this album. I’ll just go with ‘real.’

Filled with anecdotes of survival, Llona tackles mental health-related issues headlong in a way reminiscent of Omah Lay, but with darker tropes. He walks the talk too, as he provided free therapy sessions for some of his fans through a mental health NGO. 

He also spoke about police brutality, which has become a new normal for the average youth in Nigeria. Young men get misprofiled as criminals by the police and get harassed without proof or reason. Worse still, these youths never get any form of justice. In 2020, the ‘End Sars’ campaign was established, and well, we all know how that ended. Four years later, young people are still protesting against inhumane treatment and nothing seems to have changed about it.

It’s 2024 and men are more vocal about their feelings in a shameless way. Llona has crafted an honest expression of his innermost feelings. Not born with a silver spoon, he has battled doubt, poverty, and pain and is on his way to Nirvana. But for now, he remains homeless.