“It is because of my faith that I’m sitting here with you right now,” Malice tells Apple Music’s Ebro Darden about reforming Clipse with Pusha T. “That is the only reason that I get to sit here with my brother.” Brethren both in blood and in song, the Thorntons made up one of the most vital rap duos of the 2000s. Signed back in the day to The Neptunes’ Star Trak imprint, the Virginia Beach pair spat intricate yet gratifying narco bars over cutting-edge production. Yet despite dropping three essential, consequential albums over the course of that decade, an apparent crisis of Christian values appeared to prompt a creative split. Not long after the late-2009 release of *Til the Casket Drops*, a hiatus commenced as both members explored solo careers with distinct differences. Pusha T continued his coke-rap ascent within the GOOD Music roster, while Malice purposefully rebranded himself a Christian artist under the subtly adjusted moniker No Malice. Thankfully, their bond could never be broken. A momentous 2019 appearance by both brothers on Kanye West’s *Jesus Is King* suggested a greater musical reconciliation. Yet it took the return of longtime collaborator Pharrell Williams, a core architect of the classic Clipse sound, to produce *Let God Sort Em Out*, their first new album in some 15 years. “It just felt like a real good family setting,” Malice says of the studio sessions in Paris that yielded these tracks. “The creative aspect, the same as it’s always been from yay high.” “We get caught up in the feeling of certain records,” Pusha T adds. “You got to realize that before we even get to the process of hooks and writing, man, we’re so entranced by the beat.” Considering the triumphant sound of Pharrell’s production on the first single, “Ace Trumpets,” it’s hard not to believe the sincerity of that statement. Reunited at last, their chemistry feels as potent as ever beginning with “The Birds Don’t Sing” where, with a little help from John Legend, they pay respect to their departed parents with their respective verses. “The framework of the song was my last conversation with my mom and his last conversation with my dad,” Pusha T says. “It was therapeutic, but it was the hardest record to make. That’s why it actually starts the album.” Notorious for taking out his foes with acutely pointed bars, Pusha T once again wields his surgical summer skill set with incisive precision on “So Be It Pt. II.” It’s little wonder they invited the like-minded Kendrick Lamar to join in on the fun with a euphorically acrimonious verse on “Chains & Whips.” And while the album boasts a handful of choice rap features by everyone from Neptunes superfan Tyler, The Creator to Griselda affiliate Stove God Cooks, one of the biggest moments comes from an artist who preceded and inspired Clipse. “I was like, ‘Man, this, this piece right here is made for Nas,’” Pusha T says of the title track’s guest appearance, adding that the Queensbridge legend was originally meant to rap on his 2022 solo album, *It’s Almost Dry*. “His excitement was through the roof.” For Malice, it was his younger sibling’s enthusiasm towards the new music that lit a proverbial fire underneath him. “It just reminds me of how it was when we started,” he says. “We ain’t felt like this in a while.” That feeling comes through in a major way with every single verse from the rejuvenated elder brother, slipping a stunning blend of religious imagery and key memories into tracks like “P.O.V.” and “So Far Ahead.” Aglow with gospel vibes and synth swells, the latter of these succinctly sums up the spiritual dilemma that kept Malice away from Clipse for so long with one crucial insular line: “I done been both Mason Bethas.” “It is in the suffering when you start looking for answers,” he says. “Nothing is going to help you until you get into that word of God. That’s where I get all my peace from.”
With the October 2024 release of *CHROMAKOPIA*, Tyler, The Creator seemed to explain that his three-year gap between albums had at least something to do with him trying to reconcile celebrity visibility with his personal life. After the pleas for privacy on some of that 2024 album’s most memorable tracks—not least acerbic single “Noid”—his pugilistic 1980s rapper cosplay on the cover of the subsequent semi-surprise release *DON’T TAP THE GLASS* appears a continuation of that sentiment. The contents of this significantly shorter follow-up to the critically acclaimed, commercially successful full-length are quite intentionally a big step away from the array of revelations, rebukes, and storytelling that defined *CHROMAKOPIA*. Judging by the opening robotic commands of “Big Poe,” Tyler is dead set against baring his soul for his fans again, explicitly prioritizing danceability over “that deep shit” as the tenet behind *DON’T TAP THE GLASS*. Then, as with fictionalized alter egos like Wolf Haley and IGOR, he assumes the song title’s identity as his latest character, embodying this hedonist with a stream of winking profanity over a bed of N.E.R.D-esque synth-rock. Later, the sub-bass-blasted “Stop Playing with Me” operates in a similar thematic and sonic space, inherently threatening yet undeniably catchy. In a way, *DON’T TAP THE GLASS* spiritually calls back to The Notorious B.I.G.’s unapologetically reclaimed “Party and Bullshit” ethos, with music that resembles the funk and dance styles that the late Mr. Smalls would no doubt have vibed to during the 1980s and early 1990s. From the squelchy electro of “Sugar on My Tongue” through the retro R&B boogie of “Ring Ring Ring” and “Sucka Free,” the genre callbacks offer comforting grooves for Tyler to melt into. His oft-caustic voice transforms into an ephemeral texture on “Don’t You Worry Baby,” a seductive bit of bass and breaks nudged along by his quiet commands. Yet, even at the times when he seems conspicuously absent from the festivities, as on “I’ll Take Care of You,” it’s really because he’s cultivated a jam he can admire from somewhere above the dance floor. Call *DON’T TAP THE GLASS* escapism if you must, but it sure feels hella good in this club.
Few pairings in modern hip-hop history have had the impact of Freddie Gibbs and The Alchemist. More than just another timely rapper-producer duo project, 2020’s *Alfredo* differed in tone from the former’s critically acclaimed collabs with Madlib and the latter’s work with Action Bronson, Boldy James, and Earl Sweatshirt. However, capturing the unique magic of a confirmed classic a second time around has challenged many in this genre, as so many middling sequels show. In this case, though, both artists rise to the proverbial occasion with cinematic flair, changing the thematic crime scenery from mafioso to yakuza along the way. Simply titled *Alfredo 2*, their recorded reunion draws from a corresponding short film released ahead of the album drop, the narrative playing up their perceived distance only to bring them back together in dramatic fashion. Even without that context, these 14 songs showcase what makes their partnership so dynamic. Gibbs is downright gripping from the get-go, riding the gleaming groove of “1995” with cocksure bars likening him and his cohort to *Lethal Weapon* heroes Riggs and Murtaugh. That attitude persists on the defiant “Skinny Suge II” and the profane “Lemon Pepper Steppers,” both backed by airy, jazz-inflected production. His way with words remains poetically brash, vividly detailing his point of view on cuts like “Gas Station Sushi” and “Mar-a-Lago.” Yet as good as these verses would sound even over some pretty basic boom-bap, Alchemist’s instrumentals elevate the proceedings without fail. His ability to cultivate and maintain a vibe is all but unparalelled, putting listeners at ease with the hazy comforts of “I Still Love H.E.R.” and “Jean Claude.” Elsewhere, he exercises an extraordinary restraint with the soul of “Shangri La,” never letting the samples overpower the MC.
The day before the surprise release of Justin Bieber’s seventh album, a series of billboards popped up from Atlanta to Reykjavik—earnest black-and-white photos of the shirtless superstar posing with his wife, Hailey Bieber, and their infant son, Jack Blues, taken by the same photographer who shot the cover art for Kendrick Lamar’s *Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers*. In the months before, the 31-year-old was unusually candid, sharing esoteric demos and posting frankly about his struggles with mental health and fame: “Don’t you think if I could have fixed myself I would have already?” he wrote on Instagram in June. Beside the photos was a single word: SWAG. A lot has changed in the four years since the pop icon’s last record, 2021’s *Justice*—from a split with longtime manager Scooter Braun to the birth of his first child in August 2024. Meanwhile, it was rumored (correctly, it would turn out) that he’d been quietly working with producers like Dijon and Mk.gee, whose murky takes on ’80s pop and R&B had been buzzing in more alternative circles. Their influence informs much of the 21-track *SWAG*, whose emphasis on organic textures, reverb-heavy production, and dreamy vocals stands in contrast to the hyper-polished pop anthems of his past. Here, Bieber wipes the slate clean, countering aching love songs with wispy acoustic demos (“ZUMA HOUSE”), alt-rap experiments (cameos from Gunna, Sexyy Red, Cash Cobain, and, maybe most surprisingly, cloud rap legend Lil B), and a handful of endearingly silly skits featuring the comedian Druski as Biebs’ therapist. Over a moody, understated alt-pop palette, he delivers the most nuanced love songs of his career, addressing marriage in all its complications on tracks like “DAISIES” and “DEVOTION.” “When the money comes/And the money goes/Only thing that’s left/Is the love we hold,” he sings on “BUTTERFLIES,” which begins with a clip of a clash with paparazzi, flipping a vulnerable public moment into a sweet, soulful testament to the things that last.
There’s aging like fine wine, and then there’s Raekwon. The Wu-Tang Clan legend’s solo debut, *Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…*, is rightfully revered as one of the greatest rap albums of all time, a benchmark release for the mafioso rap that so many other MCs would attempt to emulate in the decades that followed. But aside from that, his albums from the late 2000s forward unlocked a sharper curatorial ear and are largely more consistent than his works that preceded them. Early Wu-Tang music had an indispensable feeling, and the rapper known as The Chef has found ways to recreate it without allowing it to feel stale. *The Emperor’s New Clothes* finds Raekwon delivering more of the lucid street raps that make him great: crystal clear portraiture of characters down to the details of their clothing or the amount of money in their pockets, fluid storytelling, and popping shit while depicting a life of luxury. He’s strongest here while flexing his skills alongside other elite MCs: He highlights multiple Wu-Tang Clan members, a change from his previous album *The Wild*. Along with strong verses by Inspectah Deck and Method Man, longtime comrade Ghostface Killah has three features, with their chemistry at its best on the luxurious album closer, “Mac & Lobster.” Raekwon and Nas (whose label, Mass Appeal, houses the release) both shine on “The Omerta,” and he welcomes coke-rap torchbearers Westside Gunn, Benny the Butcher, and Conway the Machine on “Wild Corsicans.” Rae also takes time for a couple moments of introspection. On “1 Life,” he employs a lush J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League soundbed while reflecting on his own experiences and offering a young’n advice about how to navigate a lack of integrity in the streets and the music industry: “This culture made me a man.”
Between Comedy Central’s *The New Negroes*, his Stony Island Audio podcast fiefdom, and countless hours of livestreaming, Open Mike Eagle has got plenty of media experience. For *Neighborhood Gods Unlimited*, he proffers a conceptually inventive take on imagined cable network Dark Comedy Television, with barely enough budget for an hour’s worth of programming. That translates to one of the indie-rap mainstay’s more diverse offerings thematically and, with help from underground producers like Child Actor and Ialive, sonically. On the sitcom-esque “me and aquil stealing stuff from work,” he and his buddy AQ both toil and loaf around like quintessential mall rats. His unabashedly nerdy tastes come through as he nods to *Adventure Time*’s wintry wizard on “contraband (the plug has bags of me)” and non-canonically mixes heterogenous comic book and cartoon lore on “michigan j. wonder.” Longtime cohorts R.A.P. Ferreira and Previous Industries’ Video Dave appear as fourth-wall-winking guest stars in sweeps-week fashion, but nobody upstages Mr. Number 1 on the Call Sheet.
For Benny the Butcher, feeding the streets is more than just a business strategy. As the Buffalo rapper builds his Black Soprano Family brand, he concurrently makes clear his determined aspirations towards earning a spot in the top-five-dead-or-alive vanguard of elite MCs. With the release of *Summertime Butch 2*, a sequel to his well-received 2024 project, he adds another audio document to the growing dossier comprising his craft. After letting Griselda comrade Westside Gunn get a few Flygod bars off on “Jasmine’s,” he proceeds to lay into the current state of rap music, lambasting the lyrical laziness and pop aspirations of a mercifully unnamed cluster of subpar artists. On “Told You So,” he deflects criticism from those who overvalue mainstream chart placements while cruising down his personalized path to hip-hop greatness. Later, he reaffirms both his dope-boy bona fides and his underground classics on “77 Club,” demonstrating a linkage with the past criminality that now thematically fuels his creativity. Guests like Bruiser Wolf and OT The Real operate at a high level alongside a never-complacent Benny on the Daringer-produced “Hood on Fire” and Nickel Plated’s “Gold Plated Leica,” respectively. Other collabs like the booming “In the Wall” with Bun B and “Why Would I” with G Herbo take him out of his well-established trap-house comfort zone, yet he adapts his knowledgeably streetwise flows with sweat-free dexterity over those beats. Naturally, he shows love for his BSF insiders, making space for Elcamino and Duckman on the cinematic “Pandoras.”
Last year, the Baton Rouge rapper’s relative silence spoke volumes. After a staggeringly prolific run in the previous years (one album and six mixtapes in 2022, two albums and two mixtapes in 2023), YoungBoy released just one record in 2024. Days before the intended release of his seventh album, *I Just Got a Lot on My Shoulders*, he was arrested on a number of charges, and he spent much of that year in a Utah county jail before receiving a 27-month prison sentence after accepting a plea deal in a federal gun case that had been ongoing for years. It was the latest in a seemingly endless series of setbacks for the rapper, whose “Legal issues” section on Wikipedia is nearly as long as the one for “Career.” YoungBoy’s 2025 has so far been much brighter, beginning with his release on probation in April after years of house arrest. Then, on May 28, he was granted a presidential pardon, ending the lengthy legal battle that had hampered his career for half a decade. This explains the newfound swell of patriotism at play in the title of his eighth studio album, *MASA* (short for *Make America Slime Again*), as well as in the triumphant “XXX,” which opens with “The Star-Spangled Banner” wailed on electric guitar before YB crows: “The police watching, but they ain’t gonna stop me!” The album’s 30 tracks are brighter than its world-weary predecessor, veering between bouncy Louisiana street rap (“Diesel”) and power ballads (“Cold World”). But he finds room here and there for a bit of introspection regarding his recent years: “Never knew how hard it’d get/Never knew it’d come to this,” he singsongs on “Where I Been” before concluding: “After all, I’m amazed that I conquered it.”
GIVĒON has been working on his craft these past few years, and the fruits of his labor are resplendent on *BELOVED*, a love letter to R&B that has the timeless feel of ’70s soul sides while possessing a distinctly 21st-century sensibility. “There’s that element where I’m doing this because it’s in my DNA,” GIVĒON tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe. “I didn’t choose music. I tell people all the time, ‘I didn’t choose it. It chose me.’ But I care about rhythm and blues. It means a lot to me.” *BELOVED* starts off in a big way: Surging strings create a high-drama atmosphere that sets the mood for “MUD,” a poison-pen letter to an ex that’s given a cushion by GIVĒON\'s supple croon and the sonic splendor surrounding it. Not only does the song send a message to the person who did GIVĒON wrong, it lets listeners know that the singer-songwriter has leveled up in the years since his last album, 2022’s *Give or Take*. “I think I grew as an artist exponentially,” he says. “There’s a leap in my knowing how to articulate what I feel, or what I have a taste for.” On *BELOVED*, GIVĒON showcases his evolution in a way that’s dazzling without being showy—the longing “I CAN TELL” frames his vulnerable vocals in rhythmic snaps and dry horns, while on the slow-burning “KEEPER” he fully throws himself into his plea to a lover he’s missing. Much of *BELOVED* came out of GIVĒON and his collaborators jamming in the studio, and its grooves possess the sort of loose yet locked-in feel that characterizes the most sublime soul. Despite growing up in Southern California, GIVĒON was raised on East Coast R&B, and he studied records by the likes of Teddy Pendergrass, as well as the productions of Philadelphia soul architects Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff, to get properly inspired for *BELOVED*. He also got better at fully tuning in to his artistic desires and curiosity. “I know what artist I am,” he says. “I understand my process. I understand how to evolve as well.”
LiAngelo Ball never quite made it to the NBA like his brothers LaMelo and Lonzo. But, like any good entrepreneur, he built his own alternative in the form of his 2025 debut album, *League of My Own*. GELO doesn’t need a hoop to ball out, as he made abundantly clear on his world-beating debut single, “Tweaker.” The song was a hit among NBA players and rap devotees alike, even earning him a deal with Def Jam. On *League of My Own*, the top prospect cashes in on all the hype, proving that professional basketball was just a detour to his real calling: rap superstar. The only featured spot on the entire 13-song project comes from GloRilla on “Can You Please,” which finds GELO interpolating the gritty rap culture from Glo’s hometown of Memphis and turning it into his own intoxicating club anthem. Elsewhere, it’s GELO’s stage, and he leans into his superhero origin story. Take “Shook Da Game,” where he outlines how he damn near took over the entire basketball world without having to step on the court.
In a fun bit of irony, Joyner Lucas spent the lead-up to the release of his 2025 LP, *ADHD 2*, with his attention elsewhere. After Skepta called out Lucas on his July single “Friendly Fire,” the Massachusetts-born spitter took a pause and addressed Skepta’s diss in a scathing retort entitled “NOBODY CARES.” While it’s unrelated in spirit and theme to the rapper’s third LP, Joyner knows the rules of rap: If you get dissed, you diss back. On “NOBODY CARES,” his lyricism, flows, and rhyme schemes are superlative, which he showcases throughout *ADHD 2* as well. Take “One of Them,” which features skittering synths and stomping drums. Lucas promises 2025 is the year he’s “gotta make shit bloody.” Elsewhere, he turns contemplative, like on the blackbear-assisted “Anxiety Wins” and the pre-release single “White Noise.”
The man who in 2019 knew well enough to declare himself the *African Giant* may not have needed a Mick Jagger collaboration to certify his rock-star bona fides, but with his eighth studio album, *No Sign of Weakness*, that is what Burna Boy saw fit to deliver. “Shout-out to Naomi Campbell,” the Nigerian-born superstar tells Apple Music’s Ebro Darden. “It was literally her idea. She was like, ‘You and Mick Jagger would be so legendary.’ And she pressed about it for so long.” The song is called “Empty Chairs” and is a unique classic-rock/Afrobeats hybrid—just one of a wealth of disparate vibes Burna explores across *No Sign of Weakness*, an album whose title implies a plan for continued dominance while asserting a pronounced lack of fear in his musical practice. “I was trying to make something that I haven’t made before,” Burna says. “In a sense that I’m trying to do the opposite of everything I’ve ever done—in a good way. I just feel like right now, I’m big enough to do it. I’m big enough to enjoy it now and just do everything that I would want to listen to, if it wasn’t me.” But it *is* him who fans the world over have been adding to playlists, requesting in DJ sets, and buying tickets to see season after season since at least 2018’s “Ye” took the Afrobeats world by storm. His practice has expanded with every release since, and on *No Sign of Weakness* we get dalliances with hip-hop (“No Sign of Weakness”), country (“Change Your Mind”), house (“Kabiyesi”), baile funk (“TaTaTa”), lovers rock (“Sweet Love”), and R&B (“Come Gimme”), complemented by linkups with Travis Scott, Stromae, and Shaboozey, an artist Burna actually feels a tribal connection to. “So, here’s the thing: I didn’t know he was actually Nigerian,” Burna says, “Before he came, they would tell me, ‘Hey, you know this guy’s Nigerian, right?’ But when \[people\] say someone is Nigerian, it’s like they probably have one drop of Nigerian blood somewhere. With Shaboozey, his name is Chibueze, and I’m speaking pidgin, and he understands that.” You’d not need to be kin to the singer and MC to understand the Burna Boy lifestyle, specifically in regard to reaping the financial benefits of his genius (“Bundle by Bundle”), his undying love for the ganja leaf (“28 grams”), or even his amusement at making local tabloids (“Dem Dey”). He’s happy to tell you all about it—including how he deals with it all—as he does on album mission statement “No Panic.” “Basically, I’m saying, every day I’ve done all this, but I don’t panic—I won’t panic,” he says. “It’s some shit that they say in the streets in Nigeria as well. It’s like, ‘Dem go whine you, but no panic.’ It means they’ll play with you, but don’t panic.”
When the Vancouver native broke through with her debut mixtape, 2015’s *World Vision* (released on Awful Records, the era’s coolest DIY rap label), she cheekily referred to her sex-positive style as “fetish rap.” A decade later, the half-Tamil, half-Swedish rapper introduces her third album with a question: “I’ve rapped about my pussy/And I’ve rapped about my ex/But what would you do if I gave you me/And just talked about Genesis?” (Her birth name, after all, is Genesis Yasmine Mohanraj.) Here, she trades the bawdy provocation of her early work for earthy, mystic sensuality, steeped in ancient myths and her Tamil heritage. She also trades her snappy bars for dreamy spoken-word poetry, ruminating on her inner child, past lives, and twin flames over moody guitar loops (“Genesis”) and wistful electronica (“Homebound”).
Indian rapper Hanumankind has been on a fast track to rap superstardom since his 2024 single, “Big Dawgs,” elevated him from talented local to chart-topping international sensation. After this breakthrough, he got A$AP Rocky to hop on the remix for the track, made a song for *Squid Game 2*, and signed a deal with Capitol Records. For his debut mixtape, 2025’s *Monsoon Season*, Hanumankind decided to unleash a number of tracks he was working on before the fame, notoriety, and accolades came streaming in. Of course, he needed some of his new friends—Denzel Curry and Maxo Kream—to join in on the fun, and there’s plenty to be enticed by. Take “Run It Up,” which features chopped up percussion, buzzing synths, and an exhilarating, original delivery. On the title track, he takes that inspired flow into equally interesting places, spitting over a minimal drum groove with precision and an intoxicating verve. No matter the subject, *Monsoon Season* finds Hanumankind making it clear that he’s more than “Big Dawgs.”
Kae Tempest says that *Self Titled* is a record borne out of synchronicity. The South Londoner is a master of many arts—he’s a rapper, poet, spoken word act, novelist, and more—but something didn’t feel right as he approached making what he thought would be his fifth solo album. Seeking an outside take on it, Tempest played some of the songs to Fraser T. Smith, with whom he’d collaborated on the Dave and Adele producer’s Future Utopia project, and Smith’s feedback opened up a whole new way forward. “He just said, ‘This isn’t right for right now, this just isn’t quite it, there’s something else I think that needs to come out of you right now,’” Tempest tells Apple Music. “He said, ‘Why don’t you just park this and come into the studio and let’s see what happens?’” What happened is *Self Titled*, a career peak that takes in menacing hip-hop grooves, jubilant, expansive pop, jagged beats, and bombastic soundscapes. By some margin, it is Tempest’s most ambitious musical work to date. Working with Smith unlocked something. “It brought out the bigness of my sound, my intentionality around songwriting, wanting to be more concise, more driven, wanting bigger sound,” Tempest says. “Fraser is a big songwriter.” The process of making the record, he explains, felt like being swept up in a strong current. “We were just going with it, and the minute we tried to lead and not flow, it wouldn’t quite work. If I tried to get something to happen, it just wouldn’t happen.” *Self Titled* is very much the album that Kae Tempest was meant to make right now. Let Tempest guide you through it, track by track. **“I Stand on the Line”** “This is a statement piece. It’s huge. The orchestral instrumentation, the expansiveness of the sound and the production. This was that moment when I said to Fraser, ‘I want big sound. I want to make big songs,’ and this was his response. Lyrically, Fraser was encouraging me to tell my story. My natural place when I’m writing lyrics is to write from character perspectives or zoom in on one very specific thing but retain some kind of abstract relationship with the object of the poem or the lyric. But with this, Fraser was encouraging me to tell my story. I realized this is what appeals to me in songs, when you get this insight into somebody’s truth.” **“Statue in the Square”** “I was wondering whether to follow ‘I Stand on the Line’ with this because, in some ways, they tread some of the same ground lyrically, but in other ways, it’s a one-two punch that is so satisfying. I played Fraser Megan Thee Stallion’s ‘HISS’ and Run The Jewels. I was like, ‘I just want something so simple, but I want it to be so big, but so clear in each of its parts.’ I liked the idea of creating something on the piano that felt like an old loop but we’re just playing it now in the room. Lyrically, the first draft went on for ages and ages. The verses were really long, but the chorus jumped out and I thought, ‘OK, I know what this song wants me to do now, I just have to minimize and reduce and distill what I’m saying.’” **“Know Yourself”** “In my late teenage years, I was going through some heavy stuff, I felt at a bit of a crossroads. What I understood to be my older self came into my head and basically instructed my younger self to keep writing, to focus on creativity rather than destruction, and to know myself. That older self was what I understood my lyrics were coming from. Each time I wrote lyrics, it was advice I was getting from my older self. As I got older, I was like, ‘Well, it wasn’t me, I haven’t gone back, so who the fuck was that?’ Writing ‘Know Yourself,’ I was like, ‘This is the moment, this is when I went back,’ and it’s because that kid did what they did, that I can do what I’m doing. Fraser said, ‘Oh, that’s crazy,’ because he wrote this beat with Tom Rowlands from The Chemical Brothers. They went to school together but they didn’t see each other for 30 years. Tom went to Fraser’s house, they talked about their lives for about 10 minutes, then Fraser picks up a guitar, Tom’s on a drum machine. He said it was like, ‘Suddenly we’re 15 again.’ So lyrically, I’m talking to my younger self, musically, Fraser’s talking to his younger self.” **“Sunshine on Catford”** “I feel very strongly about dynamic and pace and gradient, I love to position albums and live shows, the journey of it all is very important. The idea is that once you know yourself, then you can know love and then in comes this beautiful love song, it’s like a thank you. It’s just a little gratitude prayer to a beautiful moment. We were blessed with the vocal of the fairy godfather of the album who came and sprinkled a bit of magic Pet Shop Boys dust on the record \[Neil Tennant is a guest vocalist on the track\]. This is a hymn of thanks to the small moments when you are trying to make a life with someone, when things just feel great.” **“Bless the Bold Future”** “The lyric began years ago. I always set myself this rule that I mustn’t write backwards because I thought if I ever went back, I wouldn’t be able to go forwards. I always went into the studio with a blank notebook and started from wherever I was at. After writing ‘Know Yourself’ and going back and sampling \[an\] old lyric, I was like, ‘Actually, maybe this is the moment where I can go back into older material with this new perspective.’ This lyric had been floating around and I couldn’t let go of it. There was something about it that I thought was interesting. It never quite found its home before, then we found this fucking absolutely rolling monster beat. It was beautiful.” **“Everything All Together”** “In my live show, I like to take a line from each of the songs at some point in the set and weave them all together and start repeating things that people have heard before. It gives this cumulative trance-like power to the whole experience. As the album was finished, I was saying to Fraser, ‘I want to make this kind of master poem,’ so I took a line from each of the songs and wove them together. We got all the session files up and took the horn line from that song, the snare from that song, one little piano part from that song, so there’s something from every single song and we put it on a grid almost like it was artwork rather than music work. We did it by eye rather than listening to it and then pressed play on that loop. It’s like the soul of the album speaking. It tells you everything that you’ve just heard and everything you’re about to hear.” **“Prayers to Whisper”** “This came out of me experimenting with form, four lines and the repeated fifth line three times. Obviously, it’s about something that’s close to my heart, the death of a friend. The chords Fraser found for it were quite somber. I was like, ‘No, no, no, no.’ Lyrically and musically, if the two things are going the same way, it’s death. We need uplift in the music. We need celebration. Fraser found these beautiful chords and it felt massive. It felt anthemic, which is how you want it to feel. It’s tough to feel optimistic in the face of somebody leaving, but there is this push and pull, if you lose somebody to something where they were suffering, to illness, to something painful, then there is some sense of release. I wanted the music to embody that and then it became this huge ballad, big pop song.” **“Diagnoses”** “I wanted to make something playful, celebratory, a summer banger about fucking antipsychotics and HRT. Why the fuck not? That’s your life. You still want to fucking dance. You’re still dancing. It’s another example of the lyric and the music pushing against each other. That’s what creates the good feeling. That’s what I like. It’s like, if this is your life, it’s no big deal. It’s a massive deal. You’re fucked. Life is just mental, of course. But at the same time, it’s just your life. And we are all just dealing with the fallout of what we’re in.” **“Hyperdistillation”** “I loved the beat but I was struggling to find the lyrical shape. It’s a love song to London, to my city, and there were these little hooky moments and I was like, ‘I need something in that hook.’ I went to Raven Bush, the string player from Speakers Corner Quartet, and said, ‘Can you write me a violin line that almost sounds like a soaring melody, like a vocal hook?’ He wrote this beautiful string part. It’s amazing, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more of an uplift. Then I remembered \[singer-songwriter\] Connie Constance, who I’d bumped into a few times backstage and who I just love. She came down to the studio and wrote this amazing part. These fractured pieces suddenly came together in this perfect moment, which is what the song’s about.” **“Forever”** “This started as a love song about the uncertainty of a relationship and having this idea that let’s just fucking enjoy this for all that it is. And then Fraser was saying, ‘I know I was encouraging you to tell your story, but actually I feel like now the album needs more of your outward perspective.’ I totally agreed but I’d grown attached to that hook. If I tried to write a song about the world, I would never have written a hook so tender. The way that hook is addressed to a lover enables it to be more honest and truthful about the world, you escape the narrative trap of ‘I’m going to write a song about everything, which means you can write a song about nothing.’” **“Breathe”** “This is when I knew that the album wanted to be born. This was when Fraser had said to me, ‘Tell your story.’ I loved the beat, I wrote it, scribbled it out, went in the studio. This is the first time I did it. I could barely read the paper, my hands were shaking, and it is like a freestyle, wrote it, rapped it, that’s it. I haven’t quite got my head around what it is that I’m even trying to say, but the rush of that feeling, it is irreplaceable. Getting Young Fathers on there was amazing because within the world of that song I’m talking about, when *Everybody Down* \[Tempest’s 2014 Mercury-nominated debut\] came out, they were there, we were labelmates. They’ve been a part of this journey and it felt like a massive blessing to have them there on this song.” **“Till Morning”** “I wanted it to feel like the morning was coming, the sun was coming out, it was getting warmer, it’s getting brighter. When the chords come in at the end, it’s like the light. By the time we’d got our heads around that arrangement, it was two in the morning. I went in to put the vocal on it and I’d been metabolizing the lyric quite a lot and the take that I did was quite angry. Fraser said there was a tenderness in the original guide vocal because I was being very tentative with it. Sometimes, when something’s really new, you don’t even dare to say it, so I went back in and I did it like that. More gentle, more optimistic, more hopeful, more loving, less raging—and what you get is this very beautiful song about survival and about what comes after, about the possibility, a declaration of love. I thought, ‘How lucky I am to have met Fraser and to be in this relationship with somebody who can give a note like that, that can just shine a light on your performance?’”
After a childhood spent living across Europe, British Nigerian singer Odeal moved back to London in 2017, putting a stop to a phase of his life that had been largely defined by moving between countries and experiencing life’s joys and fluctuations from several locales. “I think what makes my music special is where the inspiration comes from,” Odeal tells Apple Music. “That shift—from being constantly exposed to the world to being limited—shaped the way I saw things and the way I made music.” Yet putting roots back down in London didn’t dull his sense of wonder and craft. Since 2017’s *New Time*, the singer has been making music that pays homage to the sweeping confessions and lilting melodic underpinning of neo-R&B influences within Afropop. In characteristic Odeal fashion, *The Summer That Saved Me contends with the dynamics of modern romance, adding an unavoidable sense of cosmopolitanism to the mix. The aptly titled “London Summers” affectionately references the communal nature of his home’s warmer months. It all works in service of an intention to celebrate a recently renewed zest for life: “This summer was the first time I really had the freedom to move how I wanted—to go wherever, connect with different versions of myself, and just live,” he says. “This is a project about what it feels like to finally have that access to explore, to feel, and to be free, and every song on it is an extension of that energy.” Below, Odeal walks us through The Summer That Saved Me, track by track. “Miami” (feat. Leon Thomas) “‘Miami’ captures the beginning and the end of a certain moment in summer. It’s about someone I met out there \[on my travels\]. The first half of the song describes the moment we met: that infatuation and that spark. But the other half reflects what they gave to me: their presence and their honesty. It’s like they became my therapist without even knowing it.” “London Summers” “Summer in London brings out the best in people. There’s this collective mood shift. You see smiles, music in the air, parks packed, and a kind of joy that feels rare and real. This project has the feel of a summer spent around the world, but this track brings it home. It highlights London and how the city lights up when the sun comes out.” “My Heart” “While ‘London Summers’ and ‘Miami’ take a broader, more cinematic approach, capturing locations, energy, and movement, this song narrows the focus down to a single scene. It’s intimate, emotional, and raw. It’s that intense attraction, that heart-pulling moment where logic goes out the window. You’re just letting your heart take control because it still remembers.” “Obi’s Interlude” “This is the most vulnerable point in the project. Obi is what my mum calls me, and in Igbo, it means ‘heart.’ This track is me speaking from that place. No mask, no performance. Just me. It’s a moment where I’m trying to love with my full chest, trying to reach someone who’s been hurt, who’s scared, who keeps pulling away. There’s something painful about offering something real and still not being let in. Like there’s something deeper trying to stop two people from connecting.” “Monster Boys” “‘Monster Boys’ taps into that playful, confident energy. The delivery is light but intentional, and it brings that nostalgic energy of those older Odeal records into the present. It comes right after ‘Obi’s Interlude,’ which is heavy and vulnerable, so this track lifts the mood entirely, but it’s still part of the same journey. The chase isn’t just emotional; there’s also that sweet, exciting side when things start to feel like they could work.” “Patience” “It’s about learning to appreciate someone who’s taking their time—a woman who’s slow and intentional with how she moves. At first, it frustrated me. I wanted things to happen quickly, just to dive in. But over time, I started to understand and admire her patience. She’s careful, she’s grounded, and she’s not rushing into something just because it feels good at the moment. In the chorus, I refer to her as Delilah, drawing from the biblical story. Delilah made Samson change his ways and made him do things he wouldn’t normally do. In the same way, this woman’s patience made me slow down and rethink how I move.“ “In the Chair” “It captures the tension between love and absence, the heartbreak of being far from someone who once felt like home. I’ve been moving, traveling the world, chasing purpose, but in doing so, I lost touch with someone I deeply cared for. This song is me finally owning up to that. I wasn’t present when it mattered most, and maybe that absence made her feel like I didn’t deserve her love. The painful part is that I still need it. I still believe in it.”***
