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EP Review: Vanilla by Takura

TAWANDA CHARI

Takura has been playing a curious game with identity. Whether you search for Takura or Shona Prince on DSPs, you’ll find yourself doing a bit of extra work but that’s almost part of the experience now. He’s earned that grace. When the music lands, you don’t argue with it, you just have to press play. And lately, there’s been a lot to press play on. Initially I wasn't going to do any type of review for this EP because I've been doing a lot of Takura reviews lately. But after a few spins, I could not resist.


Takura's Vanilla EP delivers heartfelt R&B storytelling, with standout tracks, Tamy Moyo's feature and a complete emotional journey.


This latest project comes off a run where he’s arguably been the best full-length project artist in Zimbabwe over the past two to three years, dropping two standout albums last year alone. Vanilla is a tightly woven R&B EP that leans into intricate emotional storytelling. It’s the kind of project that reminds you why you fell in love with music in the first place. (Also, Tamy Moyo is on this project, so that's a bonus. I used to have a crush on her like 15 years ago, but anyway … not important.) 

That feeling was amplified at the inaugural Upenyu Festival. For an artist who has, in the past, faced criticism about his live performances, Takura delivered something close to perfection. That’s one of the best performances I’ve ever seen. He’s been criticized before for not being the strongest live performer, but that set? Completely different story. The live band, the loops, the arrangement of the songs … everything just worked to perfection. Even though the set felt shorter than it probably was supposed to be—time constraints or whatever—it didn’t take away from how sharp it was. It has improved tenfold. 

Vanilla follows that same trajectory of growth. The EP plays out like a relationship arc: beginning, evolving, and eventually unraveling. It opens with Gwara featuring Clef Jones, a fitting introduction built around hesitation and cowardice. But not in an obvious way. More like when you’re a guy and you like someone, but you just can’t express it explicitly. You overthink everything. Do you look good? Are you dressed well? Do you smell right? What do you even say when you get there? Especially if she’s really beautiful. It becomes a whole mental battle. I can relate, and I’m sure a lot of guys can. It’s a perfect introduction to the EP. Takura captures that anxiety with precision.

That emotional thread carries into Handizvione a beautifully written piece centered on insecurity and perception. It taps into a familiar dynamic. Your partner struggling to see their own beauty, while you can’t unsee it. No makeup, bad hair days, skin breakouts, self doubt; it doesn’t register the same way to you. Hauzvione. You wish, almost desperately, that they could borrow your eyes for a second and see themselves how you see them.

Then there’s Tattoo, a standout and easily one of the most complete songs on the EP. Here, love is framed as permanence. The idea of someone being tattooed onto your heart isn’t just about intensity; it’s about inevitability. Like ink sinking into skin, slowly but irreversibly, until it becomes part of you. Not something you carry but something you are. 

Anondida, featuring Tamy Moyo, shifts the tone into affirmation. There’s a certain calm that comes with realizing you are loved and not just told, but shown. The song captures that moment of emotional clarity, where doubt fades and is replaced by certainty. It feels like standing in the morning sun after a long, cold night. Warm, reassuring, and impossible to misunderstand. Tamy Moyo’s presence only elevates this, adding a layer of vocal richness that makes the sentiment hit even deeper.

The EP closes with Kanganisa, which serves as a poignant mirror to Gwara. Where the project begins with fear of expression, it ends with accountability. Takura leans into self-awareness here, admitting fault in the breakdown of a relationship. Whether through absence, unfaithfulness, or emotional distance. It’s a grounded ending, one that resists the urge to romanticize heartbreak and instead confronts it honestly.

That full circle moment is what makes Vanilla feel complete. It’s not just a collection of songs. One that understands that love isn’t just about the beginning or the peak, but also the unraveling.

The EP is available on streaming platforms. 

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