Tables Turn — But Is It Rybeena’s Table Now?

An album review of Rybeena’s debut project, Virtuoso

“Ṣo mọ̀ pe ilé ayé yìí ko lọ títí

IQ logbà ṣomọ̀ kò gbagídí

When I’m no more, ko fì nkan rántí mi

pé Rybeena kan wà – Àgba singing”

“Do you know that this world is not forever?

It requires your IQ, not brute force

When I'm no more, remember me by this:

That there was a Rybeena – Expert singer”

Legacy doesn’t wait for permission. In today’s Afrobeats scene, newcomers aren’t just expected to sing. They must make an entrance, strike a pose, and set the room alight. It’s not enough to arrive; you must arrive memorably. In Virtuoso, Rybeena does just that; he does not just enter the room, he makes an entrance.

At 25, Atanda Oluwaseun Adewale, known musically as Rybeena, isn't waiting to be discovered. He’s shaping his narrative early, with the clarity of someone who understands what snatching fame means. With tracks like “Agba Singing,” “Id.me,” and “Wise 2.0” featuring Olamide, Rybeena has gathered whispers and winks in the corners of Afrobeats' conversations. Virtuoso is the loud declaration that he’s here for more.

The album is nine tracks long, lasting about 25 minutes, yet dense with intent. Yoruba is the dominant tongue. This choice roots the project deeply in the streets and skies of Lagos.

It begins with 1999, a track named after his birth year. Built on the skeleton of reggae rhythms, it is both biographical and mythological. Rybeena positions himself within a lineage; of time, fate, and the divine. Like many who’ve walked the grass-to-grace narrative in Afrobeats, he pays homage to the metaphysical, to unseen forces, and then to his own hunger. The song sets the stage for what follows: a journey shaped by hardship, audacity, and the refusal to be forgotten. In World Best, Rybeena brings along Teee Dollar; another rising voice. What was intended to be a feature becomes a fluid fusion, a shared prayer. There’s no hierarchy in the delivery; instead, the song dances with dual hope. The transitions between both artists feel less like a handover and more like a mirrored reflection. One young artist recognising another in the same mirror of striving, in the hope of thriving.

There’s New Taker: a standout. Not just for its musicality, but for its message. Here, Rybeena doesn’t lecture; he warns. He sings:

“Ìgbà ló yí, àwọn kán ti hot nígbà kan, sọ fún new taker yen kó ṣọ́ra gidi gan…”

“It’s the tides that turned; some used to be hot. Tell the new taker to be wary.”

While the surface is a cautionary tale about the fleeting thrills of cyber fraud, the deeper story is about time; its power to shift fortunes, expose truths, and demand accountability. Rybeena isn’t afraid to stand close to controversial themes, but he does it with heart. Ivory Coast feels like a soft homage to Olu Maintain’s Yahooze, but doesn’t quite find its place in the album’s emotional arc. It’s an energetic detour, but less essential. Amanpiapala, on the other hand, lets the talking drums lead, and Rybeena tries to keep pace. It’s a rhythmic experiment that honours tradition, even if it doesn’t fully land.

Agba Singing is Rybeena’s signature, the line he draws in the sand. This is his claim to artistic immortality. In it, he demands remembrance, not as a fleeting voice, but as a virtuoso. The song carries the weight of ambition, but it’s delivered with the grace of someone who has done the work.

Dealer is fascinating, not just for its sound but for its subject; the elusive character who enables the lifestyle but is rarely the subject of the song. Alongside T.I. Blaze, Rybeena gives voice to the backstage man of indulgence; the man behind the scenes, the peddler of escape. Kaestyle and Omah Lay, Ayo Maff and Fireboy, Rybeena and T.I Blaze join the list of tributary duets to this faceless merchant of vices.

The album closes with Go Harder. And it does go hard. The song opens with doubt, the voice of a sceptic questioning Rybeena’s staying power. But instead of rebuttal, Rybeena offers resolve. He will go harder. This track is both an ending and a beginning. A footnote and a foreword.

Virtuoso is far from perfect, but it’s deeply intentional. Some tracks carry more weight than others, but the cohesion lies in the spirit of the work; a young man crafting legacy before anyone hands him the mic. It’s not just about being heard; it’s about being remembered.

That brings us back to the question: Is it Rybeena’s table now? If Virtuoso is anything to go by, he’s not just sitting at the table, he’s bringing new chairs.