New Music on the Radar May 12th 2025

Dear reader, welcome to this week’s edition of New Music on the Radar dated MAY 9. Explore the joys of coming out of a dark season in life with Jason Sibi-Okumu’s introspective This is My Life and Modest Chabari’s rather lighthearted No Balance. Sabi Wu and 4MR Frank White keep it gritty in their hustle anthem Dim My Shine, a theme V-BE also explore in their new number, For You that we should definitely dedicate to our mothers for mothers day.

For You– Vijana Barubaru (V-BE) with Cedo

The song begins where many Kenyan stories of love and sacrifice do—in the ghetto, where motherhood is less about sentiment and more about survival. With Mother’s Day around the corner, Vijana Barubaru (V-BE) link up with producer Cedo to deliver For You, a heartfelt ode to mothers that blends nostalgic lyricism, spiritual resonance, and lived experience. The track opens with a memory wrapped in rhyme: “hizo lessons uliifunza, bado zinahelp / Na leso ulifunga instead of, kuvas zile vitenge zinatrend,” a beautifully rendered portrait of a mother who chose practicality over vanity. That line, soft as it lands, lingers like the scent of old books and Sunday stew.

Tuku Kantu’s voice rises like a testimony in a gospel service, backed by a soulful choir that nods to African American praise traditions. “Najua ni God na wewe,” he sings, blending gratitude to both the divine and the maternal figure who walked him through the hard road of education. The production carries the mood—a soft piano easing in, giving way to electronic guitar licks and a subtle, near-spiritual flute. The drums stay respectful, only accentuating the rhythm when Spikes Mshairi steps in with his slowed cadence, grounding his verse in vulnerability: “napenda ukismile, ukijam naboeka” and later, “smile yako kwangu hu-matter, iki-disappear Moyo wangu unavunjika into pieces.” He’s not afraid to admit, “najua kunilea mom haijakuwa easy,” a line that strikes directly at the heart of many listeners. The verse closes with a promise, a poetic son’s offering: “sai funga tu kitamba, nitakuletea pamba.”

Vijana Barubaru have long been known for walking the fine line between pain and poetry. Hailing from Nairobi’s Mathare slums, they write music that carries the weight of their surroundings without losing its lyrical finesse. “For You” fits into a long-standing tradition in African music where mothers are venerated not only as caregivers but as pillars of strength, endurance, and unyielding love. But what makes this anthem unique is how it melds the sonic textures of Nairobi’s inner city with the choir-laden warmth of Black gospel, modernizing the maternal tribute while keeping it grounded in African identity. As Mother’s Day approaches, this track won’t just be a dedication—it will be an affirmation for many listeners who were raised by women whose sacrifice was their only inheritance.

This Is My Life – Jason Sibi-Okumu

The strum of a natural guitar introduces This Is My Life, but it’s Jason Sibi-Okumu’s voice—tinged with weariness, resilience, and quiet defiance—that pulls you in. A blues number soaked in vulnerability, Jason’s self-produced ballad holds a mirror to his journey: not just as an artist navigating fame, but as a man recovering from a health crisis that brought him face-to-face with mortality. “I’m convinced if I tried I could learn how to fly / I’m a little bruised up but a little less shy,” he confesses, laying bare the wounds of the past while inching towards healing. The gentle rock-inspired percussion anchors this emotional spiral, shifting rhythmically as the chorus crashes in, “this is my life, this is my life”—like a mantra for self-acceptance.

Jason Sibi-Okumu, son of legendary Kenyan actor John Sibi-Okumu, grew up in Nairobi before heading to the prestigious  Berklee College of Music in Boston, where he co-founded an African music club inspired by Ubuntu. His songwriting, lauded with the Pattison Award, balances poetic intimacy with emotional punch. That training is on full display here. The second verse picks up with hope: “I’m convinced I believe, I will lapse through the scene / It’s been a little less tough and a little more free,” signaling emotional progress that mirrors physical recovery after his 2024 kidney scare. The vocals shimmer with multi-tracked layering and gentle humming, while the production briefly abandons blues conventions—a punk rock reverb sample at the outro offers a fitting disruption to a song that is ultimately about rewriting your own narrative. “Stick to the test, leave the past in the past, this is more fun,” he declares, not as advice but as a philosophy forged in pain.

Jason’s song doesn’t just belong in a playlist—it belongs in a conversation about Kenyan artists who are reshaping the contours of African music from outside the continent. Jason Sibi-Okumu adds emotional vulnerability to a scene often dominated by polished Afrobeats and bubblegum pop. In a culture where masculinity is often tied to stoicism, Jason’s openness about his health struggles  with kidney failure and mental healing gives permission for others to confront their inner battles without shame. By fusing blues, soft rock, and African storytelling, Jason reclaims space for African artists in genres they’ve long influenced but rarely been recognized for.

No Balance – Modest Chabari ft. Billy Black

Modest Chabari’s No Balance draws its emotional power from a phrase embedded in Nigerian popular culture—“this life no balance”—which becomes both a rhythmic anchor and thematic refrain. Echoed by backup singers, the line is a chorus and a commentary, setting the tone for a track that wrestles with life’s unfair turns through humour, vulnerability, and melodic storytelling.

The song begins with Chabari reflecting on personal hardship, admitting life is running him down and even joking about his singlehood and lack of appeal—an entry point that cues the listener to expect not just a lament, but a deeply personal, perhaps even romantic, narrative. Chabari adopts the voice of a jester, disarming listeners with wit before pivoting to serious matters. He calls out fake friends—those who pretend to care but betray from behind—and closes his verse with a heartfelt prayer: asking God to protect his journey and pleading with his father not to give up on him, because he’s “almost there.”Billy Black steps in to reinforce the emotional core. His verse continues the theme of betrayal, recounting how others have sold him out to conmen. He echoes Chabari’s spiritual turn, using parts of the earlier verse as a bridge—transforming a personal story into a shared anthem of faith, survival, and persistence.

Chabari’s ear for arrangement is evident. The track blends bongo-inspired melodies with soulful textures, giving it a cinematic feel. The electric guitar lends a modern, emotional tone while the mix of heavy Afrobeat drums and lighter R&B 808s ensures the track feels both grounded and expansive. This allows the song to move easily between reflective moments and ones meant to be danced to.The vocal layering in the chorus adds a compelling choral feel, reminiscent of Greek theatre—where the chorus comments on the action and emotional stakes. This gives No Balance a sense of drama that matches its lyrical content. Chabari’s music reflects his stated mission: to soundtrack the moments that don’t always make it to Instagram—the quiet doubts, the private heartbreaks, the inner healing. No Balance isn’t just for the club or radio—it’s for long walks, late nights, and moments when you need to know someone else has been there too.

Dim My Shine – Sabi Wu ft. NJERI & 4Mr Frank White

Sabi Wu’s Dim My Shine is not just a song—it’s a flag planted firmly in the soil of Nairobi’s ever-evolving rap scene. Born out of the bold, self-reliant spirit of the Kilimani sound that defined the pandemic-era underground, the track fuses dancehall swing with rap grit and melodic ambition to create a braggadocious anthem of hustle, heat, and hunger.

The heart of the song is its choral line: “Can’t nobody dim my shine, it’s my turn, it’s my turn.” Delivered over layered vocals with NJERI’s soulful textures in the background, it rings with defiance, self-affirmation, and readiness. This isn’t a prayer for permission—it’s a declaration of presence. Sabi Wu opens with a melodic cadence in a pre-choral hook, confessional yet confident: “walinishow me siwezi, walidhani me ni chizi tu/wali nishow me ni lazy,najituma tu…”His flow then sharpens, invoking God  as his source of strength and perseverance and  finding time to give a shout out to the busting Kayole scene- “ujanja ya Kayole”, an ode to a neighborhood that is recently re-finding its prominence in Kenyan rap with the likes of Toxic Lyrikali. His verse with becomes bolder towards the end, with the line: “waki ni-show doubt, me nawaonyesha kidole,” flipping middle-finger energy into artistic momentum.

4Mr Frank White—who is basking in the critical acclaim from his January album TAIGWA GOMA—builds on that with a personal history of rejection and re-emergence. “Wametry kunizima wakabaki dim dimmed” is both clever wordplay and personal truth. His bars are calm yet cutting, and when he says, “time ime wadia to redeem my shine,” it’s less hope, more prophecy. His verse positions him not as a newcomer but as someone whose moment has finally arrived—and he’s not wasting it. Sabi Wu then returns to perform the pre-choral hook, now repurposed as a bridge—a full-circle moment that reaffirms the central message of the track.

Sabi Wu’s production chops shine here. The beat is a reworked dancehall riddim, driven by a staggered keyboard progression and punchy Afro-808s. But the second, softer synth line adds emotional lift, ensuring the track isn’t just for flexing—it’s for feeling too. Every rapper’s cadence is matched with customized sonic space, particularly in the pre-choral hook, where the tension builds before the chorus explodes.

This is a track tailor-made for Nairobi’s Gen-Z creatives—those who bypass gatekeepers, believe in self-mastery, and know their moment isn’t coming; it’s already here. It’s a victory lap for the new wave: no legacy cosigns needed, no media validation sought. It is perfect for morning radio rotations, gym playlists, hustle mornings and matatu rides through the city. And the fact that Kilimani and Kahawa West—once sidelined from the mainstream—are now producing bold statements like Dim My Shine shows just how much the culture has shifted.

Written by Otieno Arudo