New Music on the Radar – JUN 13(Njerae,Asum Garvey, Fadhilee Itulya,Malosh)

June 13, 2025 14

This week’s picks are for the real lovers—four songs that stretch genre lines while staying rooted in local narratives. From soul-stirring Afro-Indie reflections and raw Swahili rap confessions to playful coastal ballads and high-energy dancefloor anthems, the JUN 13 edition of New Music on the Radar celebrates both musical experimentation and emotional honesty. Whether it’s Njerae reaching across continents, Asum Garvey switching cadence, Fadhilee Itulya revisiting ancestral grooves, or Malosh commanding the club, these tracks deserve your rotation.

Njerae ft. Preston Pablo – Gone

Njerae’s newest release, Gone, is a masterclass in cross-continental collaboration—where Afro-Indie intimacy collides with North American pop sensibility. Riding high from her acclaimed EP Four Letter Word and recent honors such as her Apple Music “Africa Rising Class of 2025” selection and Spotify’s EQUAL campaign ambassadorship, Njerae brings her emotional precision and textured alto into fresh sonic territory. From the first verse, she wraps the listener in the warm ache of reminiscence, asking, “I wonder, do you think of me, do you think of me? / And you remember our symphony, sweet symphony?” She doesn’t merely perform heartbreak—she inhabits it. Singing partly in Swahili, she reminisces about how deeply their bond was admired before the slow unraveling: “juu tuliagana vile wewe ulinipanga / me siwezi kujidanganya, Na ni kweli me nakuhata.” With every phrase, she’s not just mourning the love lost—she’s pleading for its return, whispering before the crescendo, “I want you to come back to me.”

Then comes Preston Pablo, JUNO Award-winning pop heavyweight, whose verse slides in with melancholy, doubt, and desire. Over a vibrant blend of trap 808s and airy pop textures, he counters, “You said you moved on, I don’t even believe it,” and throws in the gut punch: “How did I let you go?” The sonic architecture built by producer Kobby Worldwide is deliberate—EDM-influenced build-ups give way to cathartic releases, especially on the chorus, where Njerae laments, “Gone / Why is it so hard to see that you’re gone.” Keyboard stabs meet subtle electric guitars, while a grounding bass guitar binds the contrasting vocal textures: Njerae’s velvet and Preston’s baritone. With reverbs and echo layers strategically placed, the song doesn’t just express longing—it sonically recreates the feeling of echoing through a once-shared emotional space.

What makes Gone culturally significant is more than just the pairing of two global talents—it’s what they represent. For Njerae, this first international release since joining Universal Music Group East Africa is not just a personal milestone—it’s a bold assertion of Kenya’s place in the global pop conversation. Preston Pablo’s feature adds weight, not just because of his chart-topping accolades, but because of his ability to lean into Njerae’s emotional world rather than overshadow it. Together, they chart new territory where genre lines blur, language fuses seamlessly, and vulnerability reigns supreme. Gone is more than a breakup ballad—it’s a statement of global ambition rooted in authenticity.

Asum Garvey – Sikutext Leo

In Sikutext Leo, Asum Garvey trades his usual sharp-tongued critique of systems and hustle culture for a more vulnerable confession—though no less potent. Known for his bars drenched in political insight and street wit, Asum momentarily lowers his guard to navigate the bruising terrain of love turned sour. Over a smooth Latin-style guitar loop and soft synth bridges crafted by longtime collaborator Luigi, Asum delivers a controlled performance, allowing space for every line to linger and sting. From the opening chorus, the emotional tenor is unmistakable: “Sikutext leo sina ubaya, nimechoka na kubebwa ufala.” It’s the sound of someone choosing self-worth over confusion, detachment over deception.

The verses deepen the sentiment. He confesses the toll of emotional labour—“inabidi nikughost ndio ni-fly / si rahisi uko stuck on my mind / ulifanya ni do things me silike.” The instrumental, layered with trap-leaning high-pitched flute loops that mirror his discomfort, contrasts sharply with the calm surface of the guitar and synth. The contrast creates a sonic tension—one foot in vulnerability, the other in resolution. “Itabidi kidogo nijiheshimu / nilichomanga vibaya juu ya mtu”he raps in the first verse, only to later confront betrayal directly: “ulisema you were never like that / but you acting like that.” The song isn’t just a breakup note—it’s a boundary-setting anthem disguised in a trap-R&B suit.

Having recently signed to Sol Generation Publishing, Sikutext Leo marks Asum Garvey’s official debut under the label—and what a pivot it is. Here, he shows emotional dexterity, wielding the same lyrical sharpness fans associate with his politically charged work, but redirected inward. Luigi’s understated production allows his verses to breathe, proving that growth doesn’t mean softness, but rather strategic vulnerability. It’s a shift that expands Asum’s sonic and thematic range without compromising his authenticity. Sikutext Leo lands as an important record in a growing canon of Kenyan hip hop that dares to be emotionally honest. In a scene where many rappers still wrap masculinity in machismo, Asum’s willingness to say “ukini-beep sai sitakupigia” with clarity and calmness is refreshing. It’s the kind of song that reminds audiences that personal boundaries can be bars too.

Fadhilee Itulya ft. Kaa La Moto – Kakitu

With Kakitu, Fadhilee Itulya dives into the coastal love ballad tradition—one where charm and sincerity attempt to fill the space left by economic scarcity. Known for blending the ancestral sounds of Omutibo with modern elements like jazz, reggae, and soul, Fadhilee brings his unique Western-Kenyan heritage into conversation with Swahili coastal romance culture. He opens the track with the sobering plea: “Baby usiue penzi / usivunje bendi”, a lyrical metaphor that likens a fragile relationship to a musical band barely holding together. The theme is classic yet ever relevant—love in spite of lack, dressed here in euphemism, vulnerability, and melodic ease.

The pre-hook is cheeky and steeped in double entendre, “Niko kejani niki chill tu kwa kitanda / si unajua baby vile mimi nachezanga / nikishika kakitu vile mimi huwezanga”. The phrase kakitu, with its slippery ambiguity, does double duty—standing in for both money and carnal prowess, in a style that recalls the innuendo-rich lyrics of ’60s zilizopendwa music. Fadhilee floats through the chorus like a gentle tide: “Sina kitu, sina kitu, sitaki tukosane.” The instrumental, entirely arranged and produced by Fadhilee himself, is anchored by soft electric guitars and a carefully orchestrated buffet of percussion that bears the unmistakable warmth of East African balladry. Drumming patterns shift dynamically, echoing the style of Kidum and other Swahili soul legends—every beat swaying with emotional resonance.

Swahili rap luminary Kaa La Moto enters in the second verse with measured poise, grounding the song with humility and poetic flair. “Msafiri kwako nimebwaga moyo / japo sina kakitu we bado unastay loyal” he raps, evoking the traveler who lays down his heart despite his empty pockets. His references elevate the verse—“African Queen kama malkia Sheba / Sauti yako tamu kama Miriam Makeba”—blending Afrocentric pride with romantic reverence. He even warns his lover of envious voices: “Usiskize hao wanavuja bao / napenda ulivyo mtulivu ni kama uko kikao.” The cultural richness here isn’t just in the lyrical content but in the fusion of styles—Fadhilee’s melody-driven Afro-fusion meets Kaa La Moto’s streetwise poetry in a seamless sonic embrace.

The song is a celebration of continuity and innovation. As the fourth track from Fadhilee’s THE PRBLMST album, it cements his role as both a torchbearer of traditional Kenyan sound and a progressive voice expanding its reach. By collaborating with Kaa La Moto and infusing Kakitu with both humour and honesty, Fadhilee revives a beloved trope of Swahili love songs: that love isn’t always about what you can give materially, but how much of your soul you’re willing to offer. It’s an anthem of sincerity for a generation navigating love in the midst of lack—and doing so with pride.

Malosh ft. Ndovu Kuu – DANCE NA ME

Malosh and Ndovu Kuu link up for a high-energy, club-ready anthem in DANCE NA ME—a sonic cocktail of flirtation, bravado, and heady romance. Riding on a Vic West-produced beat that blends Afro-pop bounce with Gengetone grit and global dance-pop gloss, the track balances lighthearted fun with heavy groove. Malosh, whose genre-bending versatility is fast earning him a unique space in the Kenyan music scene, takes lead with smooth vocals and catchy melodic chants, while Ndovu Kuu injects his signature swagger and lyrical cheek.

The chorus—“Ukicheza nami, nacheza na wewe”—repeats like a spell cast over the dancefloor. It’s not just a line; it’s the thesis. Love here is mutual motion, coordinated energy, a rhythm to be shared. Malosh opens his verse with commanding charm: “Tulia baby, tukia darling, tulia hadi mikupange”, an invitation to surrender to the music—and to him. He continues: “Mbona tusipatikane kati-kati tuchanganyane kama ma chemicals” delivering a metaphor that mixes science with seduction. The lovestruck hyperbole only builds as he confesses, “Umenimada umenibeba / kutoka kichwa hadi sigino.”

The Vic West touch is unmistakable—synth-heavy keys, guitar strokes rendered through slick effects, and a playful flute weaving beneath thumping 808s. Shakers and subtle log drums are sprinkled in to keep things rooted in East African sonic textures. It’s Gengetone evolved: louder, lusher, and more exportable.

Ndovu Kuu’s verse is a laidback brag-session that walks the line between humour and heat. “Na niko sure ananijua hata ka sijui number yake”, he raps with effortless charm before skewering neighborhood gossip and overzealous investigators: “Na ma neighbor rada chaff / DCI cheza chini, usoro mingi sio enough.” His cadence is elastic, melodic, and perfectly in sync with the mood of the song—effortless fun laced with bedroom promises. He signs off with an invitation dipped in mischief: “Na uwache kupretend, unakaa kuwa mnasty.”Produced under Canvas Records with Vic West on the boards (via UMG-EA), the jam is a seamless blend of flirt, flash, and finesse. It’s a track made for loud nights, packed dance floors, and lingering glances across the room. With this release, Malosh proves he’s not just an Afro-soul crooner—he’s a dancefloor diplomat.

Written by Otieno Arudo

Written by: 254 Radio

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