Unconventional reggae? A few months ago, on a short stopover in Addis Ababa, I was heading back to my room when the lift opened on the top floor and I found myself face-to-face with a stylish crew whose lift I had just diverted. (It was 11pm and most of them were wearing oversized sunglasses.)
"Who are you guys?" I blurted out.
They grinned.
"That's Skales," said one of them. "He's a big star in Nigeria."
"Cool. Where are you going?"
"We're going to meet our fans."
"Can I come along?"
They looked at Skales, who nodded.
Five minutes later I was headed across town in a convoy of four Landcruisers: ten minutes after that, I found myself sat with the crew behind a table stacked with expensive vodkas and whiskeys. Jamaican singer Ras Seyoume is in the corner chatting to Mikey C, who turns out to be living in Limerick. And it turns out Skales is big news in Ethiopia too. There's a non-stop queue of people joining him for selfies. Alex, whose brother runs the hotel I'm staying in, tells me that he's trying to promote music in Addis - and the following night, Skales will draw a huge crowd to Laphto Mall, where Mikey C does the warm up along with a raft of local bands. At the meetup, one of the crew gives me a copy of the new single, and in the next weeks I nearly wore it out listening to the Temper remix with Burna Boy.
Later I realised there were a heap of other tunes from Skales on the single, including Ajaga and Holiday - and nearly every tune is boss: raggamuffin via Lagos, reggae dancehall filtered through digital Afrobeat. Mostly though, everything here has a fantastic groove that challenges you not to dance. Here's Ajaga; after that it's Holiday, and finally Temper. Reggae-tempered afrobeat? You done know.