Adekunle Gold’s sixth album may be named after the improvisational Nigerian genre that emerged in the late 1960s, but it’s as much a reflection of Gold’s life as it is a full-throttle embrace of Yoruba oral music culture. “Fújì is just the sound of Lagos,” Gold tells Apple Music. “I grew up on fújì. I guess I should say thank you to my auntie, for constantly playing it when I was a child. It’s at every party, every event, they play it everywhere. It’s ingrained in me.” With just over a decade of stardom under his belt, Lagos’ Adekunle Gold has lived many lives—and written even more hits. Since breaking out in 2014 with “Sade,” Gold has proven adept at pulling distinct strands from eras past to incorporate into his interpretation of Afrobeats. Early releases like “Orente” and “My Life”—propped up by their callbacks to genres such as jùjú and highlife—established Gold as a singer with a griot’s soul and sentimentalities. He’d broaden his reach with 2020’s *Afro Pop, Vol. 1*—which includes experiments in EDM and soca—but it is *Fuji* the singer points to, as a crystallization of his practice. “My album \[title\] started as an acronym,” says Gold. “Finding Uncharted Journeys Inside. But I’m already making fújì sounds; Since my first album *Gold*, I have a fújì-sounding song on every album. Even if I sing R&B, I sound fújì. So I might as well show the world this sound that I grew up on.” Deftly merging tradition and heritage, *Fuji* is built around a rich percussive base as the singer works his way through apala, fújì, and tungba influences. “Big Fish” plays as an out-of-body recounting of his come-up story and “Many People” embraces success, while “My Love Is the Same” and “Believe” emphasize familial and romantic love. In each instance, we get a tip of the hat to the storytelling techniques that make up the Yoruba oral music tradition. “I love my culture, I love my traditions and heritage,” Gold says. “I will always uphold it. I feel, as Africans, we all have a duty, an obligation to show our culture. I will never stop doing that.”
From the *Star Seekers* webtoon to the *Star Chapter* album series, K-pop group TOMORROW X TOGETHER (aka TXT) has often drawn inspiration from the celestial sphere. On *Starkissed*, the Big Hit boy band’s third Japanese album, trap-infused Korean hits “Beautiful Strangers” and “Deja Vu” get Japanese-language versions, as does “Song of the Stars.” Titled “Hoshi No Uta” in Japanese, the sentimental rock ballad renews a promise previously made in Korean: “Even if we part ways, let’s meet here again.” Lead single “Can’t Stop” is one of three wholly new tracks on *Starkissed*. The ’80s-inspired electro-funk song uses its propulsive, synth-fueled energy to capture the feeling of an irrepressible love. The energy turns buoyant on “Where Do You Go?,” a soothing pop-rock track in which members Yeonjun, Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Huening Kai encourage listeners to live their own stories. “SSS,” a track about the “secret signals” sent between idol and fan, was produced by Japanese rock star HYDE, grounding the album more firmly in the Japanese music scene. Previously released Japanese singles “We’ll Never Change” and “Kitto Zutto” and Japanese OST tracks “Step by Step” and “Rise” bring a fullness to *Starkissed*’s 33-minute runtime. The 12-track collection has many tracks originally released as part of other projects, but it works as a story in its own right, with atmospheric “Intro” and “Outro” tracks that bring listeners into and out of the world of the album.
No one can accuse Serj Tankian of false advertising. The System of a Down vocalist’s *Covers, Collaborations & Collages* is exactly that. He covers British Irish singer-songwriter Chris de Burgh’s 1982 piano ballad “I’m Counting on You” and Armenian songwriter Ruben Hakhverdyan’s mortality meditation “When Death Arrives.” He collaborates with Deadmau5 on the eccentric electronic piece “A Seed,” duets with New Zealand songstress Bic Runga on “Things Unspoken,” and joins forces with *Fast & Furious 6* composer Lucas Vidal on “Apocalyptic Dance.” Much like Tankian’s 2024 EP, *Foundations*, this release is a collection of archival recordings from the vocalist’s vast stockpile.
Southeast London’s Skye Newman grew up listening to Adele, Amy Winehouse, and Miley Cyrus. “They didn’t change who they were in any room they walked into, and that’s always been my aim in life,” she tells Apple Music. “To always be myself and not feel bad for being loud, strong, or opinionated. That’s just who I am. If you don’t like it, then don’t take it.” As Newman releases her *SE9 Part 1* project, she’s as authentic as it gets with songs about bad relationships (“FU & UF”), good friends (“Hairdresser”), and her troubled teenage years (“Family Matters”). And although it might seem like she’s gone from obscurity to the next big thing, she’s put in a lot of work behind the scenes. “I’ve actually been on TikTok for years and I had a lot of viral videos,” she says. “I disappeared for a couple of years because I was dealing with my own issues and things at home. Then I got in the studio and I was trying to find my sound. And then it blew up. It’s funny when I see people say, ‘You’ve come out of nowhere.’ I’m like, ‘Well, I actually haven’t. You’ve only just found me now.’” Most of *SE9 Part 1*—named after the postcode she grew up in—was written two years before it was released, but it was important for Newman to build up the resilience she needed to put it out there. “I wanted my own time to find myself,” she says. “I don’t think I was stable enough or emotionally ready to come out into the limelight fully at that point. That’s why I held back—I wanted to be in my best headspace before I came into this world because it can be very damaging. But I think I’m ready now. I’ve done a lot of work on myself to be comfortable and stable and not let other people’s opinions affect me.” Read on as Newman takes you through *SE9 Part 1*, track by track. **“FU & UF”** “That song came about from many angry emotions. I’d had an argument with my partner, and it really bothered me. For a lot of our relationship, I’d been brushed off by him and his friends. I felt very distant from them and got pushed out from that group. I went into the studio not long after this had happened, and I was talking about it again with my producers, just gossiping really. I was like, ‘Fuck you and your friends,’ and they went, ‘Stop!’ and that was the song. We got straight into it, with me explaining how I was sick of what was going on. The person it’s written about has heard it and they’re actually fine with it now, but the first time I played it to him, it didn’t go well.” **“Hairdresser”** “I’d had a bit of an argument with one of my friends, and my sister was also going through issues with one of her mates. The song came out of a conversation in the studio. Not a lot of people write songs about your friends. With partners, you argue and you forgive and there’s a lot more leeway with it. But with friends, it’s different. Me and my friends are all very open and we discuss our issues. That’s why I wanted to make a song that says you’re going to argue with your friends and siblings, and I think every aspect needs to be talked about.” **“My Addiction”** “I wrote this song about the same person ‘FU & UF’ is about. It’s about being up and down. I constantly felt like I was being pulled in and pushed out and I couldn’t leave. Love, to me at that point, felt like an addiction. I’ll never judge anyone’s addiction or how they’re feeling because I understand how hard it is being with a person and being addicted. A lot of times I’ve met fans after my shows and people tell their stories and lay it all out on the line. That’s an incredible thing to experience. It can be quite heavy, but it’s something that I’m open to taking on because that’s what music’s about. That’s the person that I want to be for people.” **“Out Out”** “This is about a relationship where he would always want to go out with his friends, but it was never too much about us. I got left on the sidelines a lot. So I got to the point where we’d sat around for so long, and I was sick and tired of constantly watching everyone else go ‘out out.’ We’d plan something and then he’d argue with me and we’d end up canceling. I’d be left sitting waiting on my own and I was so sick of it. A lot of the time, I prefer writing on my own, but it’s nice when you do find people that inspire you because, when you’re sitting in a room and you’re talking about a situation, it’s good to hear another perspective. I’ll just be ranting about something and someone in the room will be like, ‘Stop, that’s a song.’” **“Family Matters”** “Music’s my therapy, and with this one I was sitting there going, ‘You’ve never worn these shoes, don’t mean my New Balance in blue,’ and I thought, ‘Great fucking first line,’ and then all those feelings flowed out of me. I’m the youngest in my family and we’re all adults now so when I wrote about them I did get a good response. My parents can understand their wrongdoings, and I hope it’s something they’ve listened to and they know I’m not writing from a place of trying to drag them down, but from my own experience. I love my family and obviously I would never want to hurt anyone, and I didn’t write it out of spite.” **“Smoke Rings”** “I wrote this song with my two producers \[Boo and Luis Navidad\], and one of their partners, Jo, who’s an incredible lady, came up with the concept. We were sitting outside and we were talking about memories as I was smoking, and she was like, ‘Oh, smoke rings. You can be lost in the smoke rings. That’s where you reminisce.’ And it grew from there. It’s about sitting in your feelings and having to replay so many things. I had a very, very strong, addictive, explosive first love, so a lot of music came out of that. I only really write about things that I love and am passionate about, so as much as there’s things that have hurt me in this music, it’s only because I had so much love there.”
In the year following his 2024 debut, *Refraction*, MPH basically lived behind the decks. Many a moment from those countless gigs—from a months-long world tour to festival gigs at Coachella and EDC Las Vegas—are preserved on the UK garage revivalist’s social media: clips of him, drenched in sweat, prepping the crowd for a drop; backstage photos with friends; someone inexplicably dressed in a gorilla suit lumbering through the club queue. His captions often share a general sentiment: That was the “craziest” time. It makes sense, then, that MPH’s second album, *Substance*, recreates a night out as one continuous rush, every track flowing into the next like you’re watching him live in the mix. Beyond the seamless transitions, a story unfolds. On opener “Euphoria,” rapper EV delivers a club sermon: “Lost in paradise…Forget our lives for 48 hours or just one night/I just wanna feel alive,” he declares, drum loops emerging with the sound of shuffling footsteps and beeps like tickets being scanned at the door. From there, the record plunges into pre-game anticipation (“Against the Clock,” “Pre’s”) and heavy, jubilant basslines as the night really begins, with the dance floor’s background cheers and EV’s narration woven throughout. After downing something his friends gave him “for the nerves,” the glowing pads of “Hold On” offer brief calm before paranoia kicks in on “Run,” where synth arpeggios run on loop, pitched up and down, threatening to fly off their axis. “Where am I?/Who are these strangers?/What have I taken?/Out of control but I feel *amaaazing*,” he slurs. The party hits its dizzying peak across the pummeling percussion of “Until the Morning,” the wobbling bass house of “Untouchable,” and the driving, disco-tinted garage of “La Nyc.” Sunlight peeks through the warehouse windows on “Vulnerable,” introspective UK garage rendered in watercolor, before “Substance” closes with a monologue that captures clubbing’s escapist spirit: “Tomorrow’s problems are becoming a reality again, but…For a moment everything felt OK/And you can never take that away.”
That Eli released her debut album on Halloween is no coincidence—it’s her favorite day of the year. Growing up in a conservative Massachusetts town, it was the one time she could step outside and be whoever she wanted, if only for a night. “Now that I’ve accepted myself and have allowed myself to be more grounded in my body, I am living every day that way,” the singer shared on social media. Like Beyoncé’s Sasha Fierce or Mariah Carey’s Bianca, *Stage Girl* is her act of becoming, but instead of shedding her persona when the show ends, she’s stepping fully into the person she was always meant to be. A self-described “stan of pop music making pop music,” Eli built her debut from the DNA of her idols. It glitters with 2000s nostalgia and full-hearted ambition, echoing the powerhouse vocals (and, occasionally, whistle notes) of Carey, Jordin Sparks, and Ariana Grande in her agile runs, while her songwriting stays witty, grounded, and, above all, radically joyful. She kisses off an ex with bubblegum bravado on “Girl of Your Dreams” (“For a man who’s such a child/You don’t know how to play with dolls,” she taunts), finds divinity in emotional overwhelm on “All at Once,” and aches on “Marianne,” a ballad about losing love and an imagined future after coming out. Where “I Wish I Was a Girl” reframes dysphoria as rediscovery, “Like a Girl” turns gender confirmation into flirtation. By the time she reaches “Somebody I’m Not,” her transformation feels complete: “I don’t wanna die in the body of somebody I’m not.”
Hybrid Minds approach drum ’n’ bass less like DJs and more like songwriters. Since their 2012 debut, the duo has perfected the art of pairing liquid breaks with heartfelt, story-based vocals, turning their live sets into rousing sing-alongs. Reflecting on the countless shows they’ve played across their 13-year career, they dedicate their fourth album, *Atmosphere*, to their fans and the “magical energy” they bring to each dance floor. Across 12 tracks, the album finds light in love that feels like home (“Under the Water”), moments of escape (“Alive Again”), and moving on (“Lonely Love”). But it’s far from purely uplifting. Singer-songwriters such as homesick, LYVIA, and Brodie give voice to struggle: the perpetuating cycle of addiction (“Tear Drops,” “Heroin”), the weight of emotional baggage (“Body Bags”), relationships unraveled (“Bored”). Even in its heaviest moments, *Atmosphere*’s soaring hooks have the power to make a roomful of strangers sing, dance, shout, and cry together—proof that in the right hands, sadness can sound like serotonin.
