Divine’s Walking on Water Album Review
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by Rahul
Divine released his fourth solo album, Walking on Water, on 18 December 2025.
Before this, he had dropped Street Dreams, a collaborative project with Karan Aujla, in February 2024.
What followed Street Dreams was a stretch of singles that subtly signalled a dip, particularly in Divine’s writing sharpness and vocal conviction. For an artist once defined by urgency and lived-in storytelling, the decline felt noticeable.
That brings us to the central question surrounding Walking on Water: Is this a meaningful statement from an artist recalibrating his sound, or does it fall into the familiar territory of repetitive themes, predictable delivery, and diminishing impact from someone who once ruled Desi hip-hop?
The answer, much like the album itself, isn’t straightforward.
Walking on Water is not a contender for Album of the Year, but it is also far from the outright disappointment that sections of the audience and community have painted it as. The project exists in an uneasy middle ground: uneven, occasionally compelling, but rarely urgent.
So rather than judging it through nostalgia or expectations tied to Divine’s peak years, this review looks at Walking on Water for what it is: without preconceived notions or inflated standards.
The Good
The strongest pillar of Walking on Water is its production.
Across the album, the beats are consistently polished, and well curated. From sound selection to in-song transitions, this is easily one of the best-mixed and mastered projects Divine has been associated with. The sonic quality never dips, even when the performances do.
A special mention has to go to Phenom, whose work on “Homicide” and “Triple OG” stands out immediately. Beyond Phenom, the wider production team deserves credit for elevating the album’s overall listening experience. In many ways, the producers emerge as the real heroes of Walking on Water.
Divine himself shows glimpses of his former sharpness across select moments. Tracks like “Homicide,” “ABCD,” “Doordarshan,” the second verse on “Late Nights,” and “Drama” remind listeners that the ability hasn’t disappeared entirely. When focused, his delivery still carries conviction, and his writing briefly returns to that grounded, street-rooted perspective that made him resonate so deeply in the first place.
These moments, however, feel more like flashes than a sustained statement—but they are enough to show that Divine is still capable of operating at a high level.
The Bad
Beyond the obvious—Divine’s writing, flow, and delivery not operating at their peak—Walking on Water suffers from deeper structural and thematic issues that impact the album as a complete listening experience.
The most immediate problem is song selection and sequencing. The album lacks a sense of cohesion, with tracks often feeling loosely assembled rather than intentionally ordered. As a result, momentum dips frequently, and the project struggles to hold attention from start to finish. With sharper curation and sequencing tweaks, Walking on Water could have been a far more engaging listen. In fact, this disconnect is significant enough that we’ve put together our own Desi Renaissance edition of the album—featured at the end—for listeners to experience how a tighter structure changes the impact.
The second major issue lies in the album’s thematic repetition. Much of Walking on Water circles back to familiar territory: declarations of dominance, legacy assertions, and self-mythologising that Divine has leaned on for years. There was a time when these themes worked—when they were delivered with sharper writing, urgency, and inventive phrasing. Here, they feel increasingly monotonous.
What makes this more frustrating is the sheer range of narratives Divine could explore at this stage of his career. Instead, he continues to revisit the same ideas, offering little introspection or evolution. The emotional connection that once made his music resonate so deeply—his ability to reflect lived realities and speak with the audience rather than at them—feels noticeably absent.
At this point, Divine seems caught in an uncomfortable middle ground. He no longer fully caters to the core hip-hop audience that values lyrical sharpness and depth, yet he also doesn’t lean convincingly into crafting commercial records that resonate broadly with the masses. For an artist operating at his stature, this creative limbo is concerning—and ultimately weakens the album’s overall impact.
Legacy Context
To understand Walking on Water, it’s important to place it within Divine’s larger legacy: not just as an artist, but as a cultural figure in Indian hip-hop.
Divine’s impact on the scene is undeniable. He didn’t just popularise a sound; he helped shift the perception of what Indian hip-hop could represent. His early work carried urgency, hunger, and a sense of lived reality that connected deeply with listeners across class and geography. At his peak, Divine wasn’t just rapping about success, he was documenting the journey towards it.
That context matters, because the expectations surrounding every Divine release are shaped by that history.
However, legacy can be a double-edged sword. When an artist reaches Divine’s stature, repetition begins to feel less like confidence and more like creative stagnation. What once sounded aspirational now risks sounding self-referential. The issue isn’t that Divine talks about success, it’s that the perspective hasn’t evolved alongside it.
Walking on Water reflects an artist caught between who he was and who he could become next. The album doesn’t fail because Divine lacks ability; it falters because it rarely takes the creative risks that once defined him. At this stage of his career, listeners aren’t looking for proof of dominance—they’re looking for reinvention, or even vulnerability.
Divine doesn’t need to chase trends or return to his early sound to remain relevant. What he needs is a clearer sense of intent. His legacy is already secure, but how it evolves from here depends on whether he chooses comfort or curiosity.
DR Edition: Walking on Water
Walking on Water feels less like a lack of quality and more like a lack of curation.
To explore that idea further, we’ve put together a Desi Renaissance Edition of the album—an alternate sequencing that trims excess, tightens focus, and foregrounds the moments where the production and Divine’s performances align best.
This edition doesn’t aim to “fix” the album, but to highlight what Walking on Water could have felt like with sharper intent. By reordering tracks and removing some of the weaker thematic repetitions, the project flows with greater momentum and emotional clarity. The stronger performances land harder, the production gets more breathing room, and the album feels closer to a cohesive statement rather than a collection of ideas.
In its revised form, Walking on Water becomes a leaner, more engaging listen: one that underscores the importance of sequencing and restraint, especially at this stage of an artist’s career.
You can find the DR Edition playlist at the end of this article.
Walking on Water is neither a triumphant return nor a complete misstep, it sits firmly in between.
The album showcases some of the best production Divine has worked with in recent years, and in flashes, it reminds listeners of the sharpness and conviction that once defined him. At the same time, inconsistent performances, repetitive themes, and weak sequencing prevent the project from reaching its full potential.
More than anything, Walking on Water feels like an album searching for direction. Divine isn’t struggling with relevance or ability, but with intent. The hunger that once powered his music has been replaced by comfort, and while that comfort sounds polished, it rarely feels urgent.
For an artist of his stature, the bar is understandably higher. Walking on Water meets it in moments, but not consistently enough to leave a lasting mark.
Overall, it’s a decent listen—elevated by production, but held back by repetition and lack of cohesion
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