Granny Tisan’s Calvary EP doesn’t just announce a promising new voice, it demands you sit with the uncomfortable truths of growing up too fast in a world that refuses to slow down in the same way that there’s something unsettling about hearing a 19-year-old pour out their heart with the weathered wisdom of someone twice their age.
The Lagos-born artiste has crafted something genuinely compelling here: five tracks that feel like diary entries written in blood and guitar fuzz. His self-proclaimed “Afro Punkstar” moniker initially sounds like youthful bravado, but by the time “Lesser Key” twists a love song into something darker and more desperate, you realise he’s earned the title.
Opening with “Lesser Key,” Tisan immediately establishes his willingness to subvert expectations. What begins as romantic longing curdles into obsession, his vocals shifting from tender to unhinged as African percussion patterns clash against distorted guitars. It’s uncomfortable in the best possible way—like watching someone you care about make terrible decisions while being powerless to stop them.
“Hollow” strips away the musical aggression to reveal something more vulnerable underneath. Here, Tisan’s voice cracks with the weight of fresh heartbreak, each word landing like a confession. The production feels deliberately sparse, allowing his pain to fill every empty space. It’s the kind of song that makes you want to call your ex and immediately throw your phone in a drawer.
The aptly-titled “FEAR!¡” refuses to offer comfort or resolution. Instead, Tisan sits in his anxiety like an old friend, examining it from every angle without trying to fix it. The track’s nervous energy—all stuttering rhythms and half-finished thoughts—captures that 3am feeling when sleep feels impossible and every worry becomes magnified. It’s brave music-making, the kind that reminds you that not everything needs to be solved to be understood.
“So Wrong” finds Tisan at his most seductive and conflicted, crafting a groove that’s impossible to resist even as the lyrics confess to desires that feel dangerous. The tension between what we want and what we know is right has rarely been captured so viscerally. His guitar work here deserves special mention—it’s loose enough to feel spontaneous but tight enough to serve the song’s emotional needs.
The EP closes with “Food Chain,” a slow-burn meditation on power dynamics that uses predator-prey metaphors to explore romantic devastation. It’s the most musically adventurous track, with Tisan’s voice floating over a soundscape that shifts between gentle and menacing. The song serves as both conclusion and beginning—ending this chapter while hinting at the artistic evolution to come.
What makes Calvary special isn’t just Tisan’s technical ability (though his guitar work is genuinely impressive) or his vocal range (which spans from whispered confessions to raw howls). It’s his willingness to be messy, to present emotions without trying to tie them up in neat packages. This is music for the complicated moments—the ones where love and hate occupy the same space, where growing up means learning to live with questions that have no clear answers.
The production, handled entirely by Tisan himself, deserves credit for creating cohesion without sacrificing each song’s individual character. His fusion of African musical traditions with punk energy never feels forced or calculated—it’s simply who he is, presented without apology or explanation.
Calvary announces Granny Tisan as an artiste worth watching, someone unafraid to mine his own experiences for universal truths. At 19, he’s already mastered the art of making personal pain feel shared, creating music that serves as both mirror and companion. This is just the beginning of what promises to be a fascinating journey.
The new five-track EP is available on all major streaming platforms and Granny Tisan posts updates on Instagram.
