Krymi and Mr Drew’s Dwɛ is pretty. It is an anchor, which thrives in boredom.
Sparsely sourced from fragments of biting aura that feels good, it guarantees absolute happiness per capita.
For a song that puts three gifted musical heads on its payroll, offering them detailed license to sting and spend, it shores up so much little is left of it; we have, however, seen from a remix that it has 9 lives: Krymi, Mr Drew, Sarkodie, Kofi Mole, Quamina MP, Fameye, DopeNation, and Bosom PYung. Kaywa comes in at number nine.
On the original, all three came good.
Sarkodie has built an art of deep stroking songs he appears on. It is a carefully manured layer of years of stubborn take-it-all-down attitude. Dwɛ like many others spanning an entire career is handed that brutish featuring gusto and audacity. The style is simple and straightforward, one we know of, yet, it has intentional soothes that touch body, mind, and soul it bodes a widget of instant want. The gaze is as beautiful as the lure.
There is always going to be a Sarkodie moment in a song and on this, he moves away from dry humour, supplying undertones that lurk deep into what is to happen. He is serious about it. He flatters and ends up promising Adutwumwaa of a feeling so strong, potent, and unrelenting. Zoozey.
Dwɛ lures. It is thorough. It is three men trying to show how much of a masculine sexual badge they wear. They take turns to illustrate that in a way that is also diversional therapy. There are no mutterings, thanks to emphatic declarations of bravado that are chants – or if you would empty erotic wet dreams – that start and end in sex.
It is the kind of song that comes around and instantly spoil there, crushing everything in its sight. The toning, the art of sound and caressing, is good for a lot of things. Many things. Every half of Dwɛ provides considerable grounds for adequate party-pooling of many streets it lends feel good compositions a whole new benchmark. It cuts, even deeper soothes when the drums come crashing in waterfall-like fashion. The flashes it serves are properly-packed and organic, yielding – in full glory – enough harmony.
Krymi’s singing is Vitamin C for managing post-traumatic stress. Delivered with a pitch that is feminine and piercing, it grips for a while, only to be properly shipped across other realms of a song whose natural engagement is so good. When at it, he wields an unassuming ambience around his singing, but still easily holds his own. Painlessly. The feeling is an almost enveloping intrigue waiting to cut open.
Mr Drew’s music has grown lately it doesn’t act amateur anymore, and on Dwɛ, he lived it, skittering with so much ease and flair. What Drew gives and enjoys from Krymi doesn’t make their combined work effort feel brick and mortar. There are no ruins; absolute, orgasmic renderings borrowed from the past. Only.
Dwɛ sits in a long list of works by Kaywa that remain evergreen years after their release. It is tidy. Staying with great storytelling themes has been a forte co-opted into many pieces of art he has engineered. The showcase he gets to bring to the fore on productions, sway towards a lot of qualities. His art is a full bouquet.
As we saw in a recent live video session, there is only one version of Kaywa: the one that goes in hard, and takes no prisoners. Here, too, he sticks with a signature that is celebrated. He does so many things with it, in a way that is very Highly Spiritual.
Kaywa properly interprets music in a way that is full of art. There are fewer ambiguities. From the musician who hears their final output for the first time to the listener who attempts to sing along on a bus home, the clarity is obvious. This has played out well as a perfect stock-in-trade over award-winning compositions. Dwɛ officially joins the list. The indulgence heals. The art is clever. It has precision. It is skilled and rightly laid from a suite that is engineered with absolute melody and savour. There are no out-of-place threads, lending credence to the discipline that he brings to the party. Always.
From when he starts to when he gets off the piece of art, Kaywa supplies the kind of proficiency that is not novelty yet has some insane beauty of its own. What we get to finally listen to, is a product that can stand on its own and wrestle anything including flesh and blood. Dwɛ feels different, and thrills. It has Kaywa to thank for. Ultimately.
Dwɛ is silly and naughty. This is true, but all of Music’s models and labels don’t necessarily have to be less. For songs like Dwɛ, the longer the acoustic squirting, the better moan it generates. Look around. Dwɛ has been the go-to, uplifting starter pack must-have for most people in lockdown. With a growing pile of social media videos from Footballers to health workers dealing with COVID-19 blues, it is proving a useful daily companion.
And, that is the beauty of a song considered chaotic. But it hardly matters here. There is an absolute pleasure to be got from the kind of immersive stillness it comes with. After all, that’s what beautiful songs are meant to be.
Chaotic? Maybe, organized reasoning of three men, busting cock-blocking theories through descriptions, and polished anecdotes that are bold, and towers above dishonest chastity.
The overall output is elaborate, aided by patterns that delight in carrying a listener along while relying on a heavy nostalgic hook in sequences that are groovy to the core. In the end, there is beautiful math to it, free of pulses that are nervous and jerky.
Dwɛ is definitely a jam for days. It is codeine for all the frosty hunks in town yet to know there is actually no difference between self-gratification and playing with one’s self.