Last Monday, up-and-coming Nigerian rap artist Seth Fx (pronounced fox) released a project titled, Are You Still Nigerian If You Live In Your Head? His music is heavily influenced by surrealist rap and underground experimental hip hop. The way Seth moves through his work is like a fox: sharp and strategic. 

The title alone is philosophical and begs the listener to ponder the question: Is cultural identity able to survive psychological isolation?

There is a Gothic feel to the cover art. Skull figures are depicted digging into their exposed bloody brains, layered over a newspaper collage filled with commentary around leadership, democracy, and integrity. One segment boldly warns listeners to “BEWARE OF POLITICIANS.” Together, the cover art and title frame the project as both psychologically introspective and politically conscious. 

This project contains 11 songs with a total runtime of 28 minutes. Seth Fx wears his influences on his sleeves. Similar to Earl Sweatshirt and Capital STEEZ, he effortlessly delivers complex abstract word play over loop driven instrumentals. Opening with “pajadelphia intro,” Seth attempts to throw listeners into the everyday chaos of the streets of Lagos before guiding them through the psychological landscape that follows.

Throughout the project, recurring themes of violence, politicians, corruption, death, grief, distrust, frustration and survival emerge. Instead of approaching these topics directly, Seth filters them through his own psyche, so listeners can experience both the environment around him and the emotional consequences. 

On the song “honey, i’m not coming home pt. 3” there’s an instant sense of dread established by the short news report of a fatal car crash killing three men in Abuja. This track to me is one of the project's most emotionally compelling moments. Seth paints a vivid portrait of grief and psychological exhaustion over melancholic production. By the end of the song, the listener wonders was Seth the driver and the killer?  

On the song “folake” it’s evident Seth is frustrated with mediocrity: upset with people settling for crumbs and waiting on circumstances to magically improve. This track represents a recurring tension throughout the project: awareness of one's circumstances without losing oneself in them. 

Beneath the murkiness of the project lies a sense of hope: there’s a deeper desire to become liberated from the sarcophagus of his psyche and claustrophobic environment. However, it’s the faith in his pen that motivates him to survive another day. His artistic arrogance is undercut in almost every track: “Who better than me? Nobody / Nobody can come guard me.” Seth leaves a message to his competitors: if you think you can touch him, think again because “When it come to the bull shit [he’s] over fluent.” 

The project also includes three rap features and an interlude with a solo vocalist, helping expand the project's emotional range. The woman’s voice creates contrast and provides a moment of softness amid an otherwise bleak listening experience.

A sample-driven instrumental closes out the project: “miss u outro,” is an upbeat track that juxtaposes much of the tape’s grim content. Like waving goodbye to a friend after a memorable visit, the outro uses no words, yet still manages to say a lot.