New Music on the Radar JUL 25

As July draws its final breath, leaving behind a trail of smoke, heartbreak, and basslines, a fresh wave of Kenyan music emerges to soundtrack the transition. This week’s picks capture that late-month mood—part nostalgic, part defiant, and wholly alive. From Tanasha Donna’s revivalist EDM firestarter to Swahili Papi’s hazy return, and Serro’s soulful cry of betrayal, these songs don’t just close out the month—they set it ablaze, each in its own genre-bending, emotionally charged way. Welcome to New Music on the Radar: July 25.

Fire – Tanasha Donna & Keyløud

Tanasha Donna chooses defiance and passion over trendiness in Fire, steering away from the currently dominant Amapiano wave to embrace a throwback to old-school European EDM. The production by Keyløud is intentionally vivid, with sprightly, high-pitched keyboard stabs layered over soft, mellow synths that flow like liquid light across the soundscape. Rather than relying on hard percussive drops or Afro-house’s bass-heavy formula, the song builds and releases tension through masterful DJing—smooth transitions, crowd vocals that mimic live energy, and a teasing progression that leaves you breathless right before the drop. It’s an experience sculpted for the club, yes, but more spiritually, for catharsis.

The themes of the joint are built around a Nietzschean exaltation of self-affirmation and hope. “In the mid of it all / I soar, I roar like a lion” proclaims Tanasha in the opening line, turning adversity into a kind of fuel. What follows in the pre-hook is a gentle reassurance both to self and others—“Ambia mama niko sawa, niko hai / Usijali mambo sawa niko hali”—words of comfort and survival that culminate in a clear-eyed proclamation: “Niko huru, I can see the horizon.” This is not blind optimism; it’s a steady re-grounding. The shortest verse plays with the metaphor of romantic connection to expand the central theme: “Let me follow you under the moon or am I dreaming? / Tuko sawa no matata or baby am I dreaming?” This delicate passage lets emotional intimacy stand in for clarity, grounding the inner fire the song celebrates.What gives Fire its staying power is the clever use of its title as a literal and symbolic rallying cry. The chorus is just one line—“we are on fire”—but it is driven by a choir that swells behind her like a Greek chorus, elevating the phrase into a chant of collective affirmation. It’s this interplay of personal power and communal celebration that gives the song a timeless feel.

The single repositions Tanasha Donna in the Kenyan pop landscape not as a trend chaser, but as a visionary reviving global sounds with African stories at their core. By opting for a European EDM sensibility and wrapping it around Swahili affirmations of hope and being, she opens new aesthetic possibilities for Kenyan pop beyond Afrobeat mimicry. Keyløud’s production adds another layer to this shift, presenting a continental versatility that subverts sonic expectations. Together, they have crafted not just a song, but a statement: resilience is not just personal—it’s rhythm, it’s voice, it’s fire.

Ukileta – Genes1s featuring YBW Smith & Soundkraft

With Ukileta, Genes1s returns to the airwaves in unapologetically flamboyant fashion, switching up his usual trap cadence to dabble in Gengetone—Kenya’s provocative, street-certified genre—without compromising his sharp lyricism or magnetic persona. The song’s production, helmed by Soundkraft, leans into a hypnotic kapuka drum rhythm, pairing it with a bouncy, looped keyboard melody that trades in dancehall conventions for a smoother, richer arrangement. This deliberate subversion results in a sound that feels both familiar and refreshingly new. Instead of raw chaos, Ukileta opts for refined confidence.

Genes1s opens the track with brash intent, delivering the innuendo-laced hook “baby ukileta mimi nita perform” with enough swagger to convince even the skeptical. His verse is a masterclass in zinger-filled wordplay: “Ukinusa pesa we jua niko around” asserts his hustle instincts, while “I’m married to so the beat ikona gown” wittily marries his love for music with a bit of wedding flair. The second half gets even cheekier: “Wanna hit it once, kam stima na potea / I will tell nobody ka Picasso nachorea.” It’s a rogue’s confession, delivered in rhyme and rhythm. YBW Smith matches this energy in a verse that’s more emotionally centered but still rooted in urban bravado: “Ati nivenye nakudai mi najua we ni mine / Ju niko mangwai mi najua huwezi mind.” His flow is laid back, his intent clear—equal parts affection and flex.

The chemistry between Genes1s and YBW Smith is palpable, even without the latter’s physical presence in the video. That absence is seamlessly covered by director Wango, whose cinematic visuals capture the song’s pulse with street-level clarity and stylized framing. A montage of bold colors, slick transitions, and youthful energy mirrors the vibe of the track: charged, confident, and ready for whatever comes next.

Ukileta is more than just a Gengetone-inspired club banger—it’s a statement of intent at a pivotal point in Genes1s’ career. As the final single before the release of his album Almost There, and his first drop under the Sol Generation Publishing umbrella, it marks a transition from underground acclaim to industry consolidation. His deal with Sol Generation—founded by Sauti Sol and renowned for spotlighting top-tier East African talent—signals a new era for the Kilimani rapper, bringing with it access to global publishing networks and strategic support. At the same time, the feature from YBW Smith, a trailblazer in the Arbantone movement, underlines Genes1s’ willingness to collaborate across Nairobi’s diverse musical spectrum.

Dih Taste Moi – Swahili Papi

Swahili Papi’s Dih Taste Moi unfolds like a dream caught between a Parisian shopping spree and a Nairobi trap house—psychedelic, sensual, and irreverently bold. After a three-year hiatus, the rapper makes his long-awaited return not with a bang, but with a hazy swirl of sound and swagger. The self-produced track kicks off with a melancholic Latin-style acoustic guitar, gently shadowed by a synthesizer that glides into a delicate but eerie keyboard harmony. A looping high-pitched chord signals each melodic cycle like a heartbeat, while a ghostly flute occasionally weaves in and out of the mix, introducing a touch of unease—hallmarks of the psychedelic trap sonic palette Swahili Papi has long made his playground.

Delivered in a melodic mumble and loosely tied to a beat that he sometimes rides and sometimes dodges, his flow feels instinctive—almost unconscious. There’s a deliberate lack of urgency in the delivery, and yet every phrase lands like a statement. “Dih taste moi… I am adrift at the end of the three shop / I don’t do shopping to tweek” floats through the chorus in broken French and luxury imagery, distilling the track’s theme: a woozy, boastful ode to affluence. He’s braggadocious, yes, but with a flair for irony. “I put a price on my voice / I put a price on the zaza” gestures at self-worth wrapped in street sensibility. Love comes and goes in scattered references—from the admiring “Baby girl said she love me” to the chaotic “My little baby a crazy b*tch with a banging body.” All this delivered with a nonchalance that refuses to care if you’re keeping up. Then comes the punchline: “I’m not a plug mi ni pedi,”—absurd, humorous, unforgettable. And for other rappers trying to catch his wave, he declares simply, “These are my sons, these are my children.”

Dih Taste Moi signals a potent rebirth. It’s not just the first single from Swahili Papi’s forthcoming album Swahili Steppa(due August 15th, 2025)—it’s a reintroduction of an artist who once went off-grid, only to return sharper, weirder, and more sonically fearless than ever. Swahili Papi, a former UnKut Hip Hop Awards Alternative Artist of the Year, has always been experimental, but Dih Taste Moi shows that his hiatus wasn’t a retreat, it was a transformation.

Chizi – Serro featuring Israel Onyach

With Chizi, Serro delivers heartbreak in the only way she knows how—honest, funny, tragic, and steeped in the sound of home. The third track off her new album From Dusk to Dawn, the song is a Benga-rooted Afro-pop lament of love gone sour, calling on the expressive power of storytelling and humour to carry the emotional weight. Serro opens with a biting metaphor that has the internet generation written all over it: “See I am the mayor of the delulu square / ‘Cuz I believed in everything that you said.” The delivery is tongue-in-cheek, but the pain underneath is unmistakable. She goes further, exposing the depth of her devotion in a line that’s both revolutionary and tragic: “Ulilipa mahari na pesa nilikupea.” In a society where bride price is seen as the man’s honourable contribution, the line turns the tables—she gave it all, even what she shouldn’t have.

Her verse spirals between regret and disbelief, carried by a vibrant acoustic guitar rhythm and drumming patterns that would feel right at home in a Kidum ballad. She admits her naivety with humour and linguistic flair: “Nilidhani mimi mjanja lakini Jatelo alinipata / Enyewe mi ni fala, ni aje sikuona una hanya.” It’s almost comedic—until it isn’t. Israel Onyach of Watendawili picks up the thread, delivering his own tale of betrayal with a calm tenor that’s become a signature of Nairobi’s urban Luo scene. He opens with a lament that’s become common Nairobi lore: “Kweli Nairobi is one big bedroom / The one you love, loves another one / Mchezo wa town umeniweka down.” His verse weaves Luo and Kiswahili into an evocative, almost folkloric admission of heartbreak: “Nilipendwa nikatekwa / Hera gima mit kendo gima lit.” As Serro joins him in harmony, the line “Nilidhani mimi mjanja lakini Atoti alinipanga” echoes hers, the duet culminating in a communal cry of “Umechizi, chizi!”—the song’s haunting title refrain.

The brilliance of Chizi lies not just in its lyrical storytelling but in its production. Produced by Bassman, the instrumental honours the East African heartbreak ballad tradition while incorporating modern textures. The guitars are layered, alive, and conversational, interrupted occasionally by a deliberately off-kilter high-pitched chord that adds a slightly comedic, chaotic flair. Traditional drum patterns are backed by subtle digital drums and synths, helping bridge the song’s roots with the urban soundscape of today’s Kenyan afro-pop. The result is a track that breathes, jokes, mourns, and grooves all at once.

Culturally, Chizi is a convergence point in Kenya’s music revival. It marks Serro’s triumphant return to the scene after a long silence since her Misimu EP (2022), now with a full-length album that centers the voices and lives of middle-aged women navigating love, hustle, and faith. This particular track connects her legacy to the rising urban Luo music movement—represented powerfully by Israel Onyach, of Watendawili, and artists like Okello Max, Brian Sigu and Coster Ojwang. Serro has always lived on the edge of tradition and innovation, and Chizi shows just how powerful that balancing act can be when executed with vulnerability, wit, and groove.

TwennyEights – Took A Year Off