By Ike Nnabuife
“I ain’t tryna hear another, “How you been?”
I’m chokin’ on a gust of wind…
What’s in the air?”
~”Nice Shoes” by Steve Lacy
The lesson I keep on learning is that you can be ghosted at any point in the process.
Likewise, punctuating last summer, Steve Lacy pump-faked the rollout of his overdue record with the release of the single “Nice Shoes.” While he’s shared now that he scrapped two albums in the stretch leading up to Oh, yeah?, the rogue Gemini presented two perfect snapshots (the latter being the hazy, pained “bebe”) of my life at two disparate moments with approximately a sun’s revolution between.
“Nice Shoes” went under the radar at the time of release, but the tune’s deadpan Notes app poetry has really stuck with me for the past year. Fast forward to now, Oh, yeah?’s bonus track is a theme song that nurses the wounds of a comically embarrassing wild goose chase for affection and validation…
“I’m hexed, goddamn it
I’m hexed, god-god-god—”
~”bebe” by Steve Lacy
An… excuse me… Odyssey (2026) benchmarked with unorthodox love triangles, expensive mistakes, fateful “edi-ables”/lotus fruit, and apparent curses from ‘ghosts’ that continue to haunt the narrative despite their limited screen time.
“Is it all just patterns packed inside?
Is it all braids and rewinds?
Is it all wind howling all the time?”
~”Rewind” by Dijon
When facing the music as it pertains to my hex, the most paralyzing part is knowing there’s a real chance you never break the curse. I was born to two Nigerian parents. Examining their relationship, it’s clear I didn’t grow up with a true-to-life idea of what romance or affection looks like beyond an almost occupational cooperation for the utilitarian sake of family benefit — which is romantic in its own way — but turning 21 this summer, I was confronted by the fact I have been unable to form a single relationship. Now knowing I will now go my entire life having never experienced ‘young love’, I’m greeted by the idea this really is a curse… one possessed by my father and inherited by me and liable to be passed on and then faced by my own children.
All that overly melodramatic soreness has defined my listening habits for the past year.
These are some of the songs that got me through it.
Best Fynds of the Year (So Far…)
Is Loving Really Bad? by Liim
Liim was already a breakthrough favorite in online “anti-pop” circles last year, but he’s shown unprecedented growth on his recent single run, priming us for a real album of the year candidate.
i like you around by amil raja
The original Tamia ballad means so much to me, and their glitzy flip of the sentimental classic distorts the lovey dovey track the same way romance repaints your memories.
NEYMAR by Elijah Aike
At the tail-end of a sensational World Cup, Elijah transformed his moody electronic sound into a summery hip house anthem that revitalizes 070 Shake vocals from the Yandhi standout “City in the Sky.”
Left the Club Like… by GENA (Liv.e & Karriem Riggens)
My favorite song from this album changes every month. Its acoustic instrumentation and impassioned borderline-rap delivery is refreshingly human in a time where passion is drained from so much R&B.
Pressure & Light by Samba Jean-Baptiste
In the never-ending struggle to fill the power vacuum left by Frank Ocean, this is a melodramatic breakthrough from a seminal project – instantly shooting him up the Dean Blunt clone leaderboard.
Je M’appelle Tété by B0YG1RL
B0YG1RL’s uniquely cultural take on electronic music and neoperreo illuminates the beauty of connection in online spaces. The duo’s mysteriousness speaks to the liberation afforded by digital anonymity.
Lose Control by Ouri & umru
A left-turn from her tender neo-soul nocturnes, Ouri leans hard into this harshly erotic direction over umru’s signature hyperpop production. The DJ’s feral bass makes you itch as the tune infects your mind.
Caught in a Jam by Portraits of Tracy
On the long-awaited return to music after her 2023 debut, Tracy’s performance makes it feel like she never left. The kaleidoscopic single incarnates the joy that made waking up for Saturday morning cartoons so easy.
SLAVERY by Edward Skeletrix
On the ambiguous creative architect’s “Body of Work”, Slavery is a magnum opus that finally sheds the trollish veneer to reveal a portrait of blood. He lays out his honest thoughts on being creative for a living.
heyjah obialo by heavensouls
Torrid afrobeat, electrifying psych-rock, and chronically online glitch pop… this song is an informed love letter to the motherland from this generation of the Nigerian diaspora as we come of age.
Endlessly Waiting by Nick Hakim
The DMV bard returns from his long sabbatical in the icy woods with a dreamy, meandering ballad whose long, patient ambience evolves from boring to healing.
brioche by bbyazul
Echoing quinn’s distorted digicore experiments, bbyazul’s heavily digitized self-prod world is on the precipice of blowing up.
2019 by BBYKELL
So many it girls have shined out the underground in the past few years, but Bby Kell’s take on Glokk40Spaz’s skittery and humorous hooks has not stopped echoing in my head and it’s been months.
Black Cat by deer park & Ivy Knight
The indie outfit’s coterie of collaborators has established them as an unexpected hub for indie and cloud rap. This cut’s greyscale pianos illustrate how bad luck shapes our decisions and nothing is ever truly black and white.
Only 1ne by zayALLCAPS
One more year of college is on the horizon. The best (worst) part of school is never actually committing to anything: she might ghost you at any point in the talking process, you still might change your mind about your major, your friends might arbitrarily pull up a receipt of reasons why they don’t want to see you anymore. But college never actually forces your hand. One can eat their cake and have it, too.
The main way to describe the bittersweet maturity of college is like finally staying up past bedtime. Zay captures that mixture of youth and coming of age wonderfully here — never committing to any identity or sound or era and synthesizing all of the nerdy serenades of the past decade in a messy, lethargic collage.
“More power to you, but it’s no flowers in your vase
~“Exhaust” by Earl Sweatshirt
No amount of sugar gon’ help with the taste
At the end of the day
It’s really just you and whatever you think
I’m airmailing you strength”
You would think after getting threatened in broad daylight with a machete on High Street, the melodramatic spiraling would escalate.
And briefly, it did.
I try to live by bell hooks’ mantra of approaching strangers with openness and no fear whenever I put myself out there, but after walking with strangers for so long in college, I have started to become one to myself. I don’t know who I am in this space. The street intimidation was just an apparent final sign to condemn this approach.
But this summer, my auntie offered me the chance to become the godfather to her twins. My first thought was that I was far too young, but then the reality of being 21 collapsed on me.
I think what made me end up accepting was when I heard them both crying one night at 3AM. I wasn’t particularly vexed by the late-night disturbance since I have a college circadian rhythm, but more concerned. Even at 21, there’s nothing more relatable than waking up in the middle of the night and just wanting to cry. My aunt quickly discovered that the pea under their 20 mattresses was typically either just wanting to be held or hear “Waka Waka” by Shakira and South Africa’s Freshlyground. I couldn’t remember the last time I fully recognized myself in a stranger like that — let alone two.
Living with all these songs has helped me recognize myself again. I usually can only bond with others based on where we differ rather than what we share — trading disparate tastes and perspectives and hoping we ultimately complement each other somehow. In these musical time capsules are tracks that remunerate that you don’t have to reinvent the wheel. There’s always someone who’s been through what you’re going through. Your song is out there echoing somewhere.
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