Nneka's new LP will make you want to dance, no doubt about it. Right from the kick off, 'Lucifer (No Doubt)' bounces right into your brain and makes you want to bob; and it doesn’t matter where you are.

A heady mixture of soul and hip hop, Soul is Heavy is Nneka’s fourth studio release, and the first since 2010’s Concrete Jungle. That was her first work to be released in the US and the first to bring her international recognition, but those in the know have set high hopes on her: she’s drawn comparisons with Lauren Hill as well as, more importantly, Fela Kuti. The latter, probably Nigeria’s most famous musician and certainly its most influential, is credited as the creator of afrobeat, and his politicisation of music as a liberator is something that Nneka’s fans have been drawing from her music.

And it does make you bounce, from the shuffling drums and quiet glockenspiel of title-track ‘Soul is Heavy’ to the delay-heavy guitars and rhythmic-groove of ‘Sleep’. Like Fela Kuti, and like much music of liberation and protest, Soul is Heavy combines the visceral with the political, and as the LP gets you wanting to dance from the off, Nneka also announces an agenda:

"Still the clouds are gray. Did you want us to believe that you love us more than you love yourself? / We have been wanting to trust you since, had us praying on blood wounded knees for you to hear us out; / in distress, must confess, you have achieved what is best for the devil to rule our lives, to ruin this world."

Who that “you” is might be ambiguous but thrown in with deliveries like "When you spilled blood, did you say love?" (‘Do You Love Me Now’), plus "you will never see me crawl, you will never see me beg" (‘Don’t Even Think’) and the soul-searching repetition "Where do I go?" (‘My Home’), the thematic ground is clear. Soul is Heavy, places Nneka firmly in a tradition of politicisation through music.

The album has its poppier moments, of course. ‘Restless’ is as closes as Soul is Heavy gets to a ballad, pianos backed by swooping strings; ‘J’, innocent-sweet, is one of the album’s tender and most pleasant tracks, its light snare and high-end piano a delight.

But it does bounce. Right from the opening of ‘Lucifer (No Doubt)’, as brass fanfare and distorted, muted guitar rumble and flourish over light cymbals, you’re hungry for the drop. It drops. And it is beautiful.