Jealousy

Allen's "Jealousy" is a slow-burn meditation dressed up as a groove, and the gap between its relaxed surface and its emotional undertow is where the song lives. The tempo is unhurried, almost stubbornly so, and the bass establishes a riff that circles back on itself with the persistence of an unwanted thought. Keyboards add a warm, slightly melancholy harmonic cushion while Allen's drums keep the tension taut — his hi-hat work alone carries an undercurrent of unease that the rest of the arrangement never fully resolves. The vocal treatment is minimal and conversational, the voice never straining for drama, which makes the subject matter land harder: jealousy rendered not as explosive emotion but as something quieter and more corrosive, the kind that settles into the chest and stays there. This restraint is characteristic of Allen's post-Fela output — he is not interested in making statements, he is interested in making spaces, and this track creates a sonic room that feels slightly too warm to be comfortable. The saxophone surfaces midway through like a confession, its tone breathy and exposed against the locked rhythm section. It belongs to late evenings when a specific feeling refuses to be named or dismissed, when you want music that does not resolve your mood but instead acknowledges it with something approaching honesty.