Atwood Magazine is excited to share our Editor’s Picks column, written and curated by Editor-in-Chief Mitch Mosk. Every week, Mitch will share a collection of songs, albums, and artists who have caught his ears, eyes, and heart. There is so much incredible music out there just waiting to be heard, and all it takes from us is an open mind and a willingness to listen. Through our Editor’s Picks, we hope to shine a light on our own music discoveries and showcase a diverse array of new and recent releases.

This week’s Editor’s Picks features NoMBe, Sheléa, Nectar Woode, Nxdia, Jahnah Camille, and Hannah Jadagu!

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There’s a heat to NoMBe’s “Nu Lova” that lingers long after the song’s final echoes fade – a thick, intoxicating warmth that pulses through the body and lifts the soul. It’s the kind of feeling you get on a sweaty night under mirrorball light, when heartache gives way to possibility and a stranger’s smile feels like salvation. Released last fall as the lead single off Diáspora – NoMBe’s forthcoming third album and a love letter to the Black musical tradition – “Nu Lova” is an exhale, a celebration, a reckoning, and a rebirth.

It also marks a bold new direction. “Nu Lova” is NoMBe’s first foray into disco, and he wears the genre well: Sultry guitars shimmer over a pulsing beat as he basks in the high of rebound romance. There’s catharsis in the groove, release in the rhythm. The whole track glows like a summer sunset.

Two lips and daffodils
By my window sill
And I love the smell I want
Nu love, new hugs, no shrubs
I pull out the weeds
And the breeze take’em off
To somewhere far
Where they won’t cause harm
And my heart stays warm
Like my lawn in the sun
This rebound shit is legit and a trip
Baby time will tell if it gels or we quit

“Nu Lova” is about coming out of a relationship with the mindset of not letting it derail you,” NoMBe tells Atwood Magazine. “Saying, I’m not going to sit around crying, I’m gonna get ready, go out, and meet someone new. It gives a slightly positive and cheeky spin on breakups, where you almost feel a weight being lifted.” That energy is felt from the very first verse: “Two lips and daffodils by my windowsill… New love, new hugs, no shrubs / I pull out the weeds and the breeze take ’em off,” NoMBe croons in the first verse, trading out the old and overgrown for something fresh and unburdened.

“My relationship at the time of writing had withered for quite some time, I think. Hence all the flower and spring analogies,” he adds.

At its heart, “Nu Lova” is a rebound anthem, but one dressed up in glitter and glow – cheeky, soulful, and self-aware. He doesn’t shy away from the transience or messiness of post-breakup love; instead, he leans into it, embracing the high that comes with falling fast and the comfort of someone new. The story he tells is one of release – letting go of what was and giving in to the now, however fleeting that might be.

Seasons they change best believe
Like lovers
Like days of the week (baby)

Oooooh
Friday night you said goodbye
But then I went
Straight into Saturday and fell in love again
So let me introduce you to my
New, new, my new, new, new lover
Let me introduce you to my
New new, brand new, boo and lover

His chorus, sung in stunning falsetto, is a particularly radiant touch – soaring as he sings, “New, new, my new, new, new lover / Let me introduce you to my new new, brand new, boo and lover.” There’s a glow in his voice – light, unburdened, effervescent – that captures the buoyancy of those early, electric feelings. The repetition feels like both a celebration and a spell, a way to manifest the next chapter into existence. “Friday night you said goodbye / But then I went straight into Saturday and fell in love again,” he sings, cheeky and self-aware. The heart moves on, whether we’re ready or not.

“The irony of ‘Nu Lova’ is that the ‘new’ person I fell for quickly became a pretty chaotic situationship,” NoMBe confesses. “When that fell apart, somehow the track evolved into being about my now-wife. It’s strange how songs can keep evolving in that way.”

He still remembers the moment the music clicked into place. “Sonically, it started in Hawai’i, where I was living at the time and I was practicing bass,” he recalls. “I somehow had the idea for that progression and it all effortlessly came together. I remember feeling nervous and giggity because I found ‘that thing.’ It only happens so often.”

The song also marked a creative breakthrough for him. “I picked this song since it was the first complete demo that felt like, ‘this is the direction for me.’ It felt so right and like I needed to make more of it, whatever it was. It summed up my vision perfectly.” That vision threads into Diáspora as a whole – a sprawling, celebratory exploration of identity, legacy, and personal growth.

NoMBe has always been a sonic shapeshifter, but Diáspora feels like his most intentional and expansive work to date. Where past projects blurred genre lines – mixing indie rock, funk, soul, and alternative R&B into a singular, seductive style – here he redraws them entirely, embracing disco not as a retro throwback, but as a vessel for storytelling, movement, and joy. “Nu Lova” is just the beginning: A vibrant, groove-laden entry point into a body of work that honors the past while pushing boldly ahead.

“Aside from the nods to the 1970’s and Black music found throughout Diáspora, I think it’s about trust,” NoMBe reflects. “Trusting that what I instinctively felt good, would also resonate with people despite what the expectations were. The entire record is the result of this letting go… I moved to Hawai’i because I needed to quiet everything around me, to hear what I actually wanted to express. To me that’s what art is… it’s deeply personal expression. It’s not about manufacturing success based on what someone has liked in the past. It’s scary, but the only way I want to create.”

Now, we’ve been on and off and I’m bout to move on
This too shall pass, so I pass the baton
There’s plenty fish and my net’s pretty long
So I drown my drip in a 5th of cologne
Slide to the bar where they these songs
And talk my shit till the birds come home
Baby, all night long in the cut having fun
Till run out of luck or find junk in the trunk

Over a decade ago, I wrote about NoMBe’s breakout single “California Girls,” calling it that 2015’s song of the summer – “sultry and dark beat-driven, but melodically focused… a fusion of colorful styles…” and praising his “poetic, personal, emotional, and unique” lyrical flow. Ten years later, that captivating artistry remains – now deepened, sharpened, and fueled by even greater passion and purpose. “Nu Lova” feels both familiar and fresh: A sonic step forward, rooted in history but reaching for the future. NoMBe remains a strident sonic trailblazer, and “Nu Lova” exemplifies this as his beautifully bold first foray into disco.

“I want people to feel empowered in all aspects of life,” he says. “I want them to dance, feel the infectious bassline, and find a multifaceted song that works in many settings: the car, a BBQ, the club, or bedroom.” And behind the scenes, there’s no compromise – just relentless commitment to craft. “I’ve personally taken away that when you go through the trial and error, there is always a way to express yourself while also making catchy tunes. I have a hard time compromising in music, whether that’s arrangements or lyrics. So the answer has become obsession – until it hits all the marks.”

Seasons they change best believe
Like lovers
Like days of the week (baby)

Oooooh
Friday night you said goodbye
But then I went
Straight into Saturday and fell in love again
So let me introduce you to my

New, new, my new, new, new lover
Let me introduce you to my
New new, brand new, boo and lover

The moment Sheléa starts singing “Time Machine,” you’re transported: Not just to a different era, but to a memory – one filled with longing, love, and the quiet ache of what could have been. Channeling the spirit of classic soul with grace and heart, she delivers a track that’s both emotionally charged and musically irresistible.

A GRAMMY®-nominated singer, songwriter, pianist, producer, and actress, Sheléa has long been recognized as one of music’s most dynamic voices – praised and championed by legends like Quincy Jones, Stevie Wonder, and David Foster. She’s performed everywhere from Carnegie Hall and The White House to Royal Albert Hall and the Vatican, starred as Dorinda Clark in the acclaimed Clark Sisters biopic, and fronted national PBS specials honoring Aretha Franklin. With “Time Machine,” she adds to her already-stunning legacy with a song that feels both everlasting and deeply personal.

A stunning, soul-stirring slice of Motown magic, “Time Machine” blends cinematic storytelling with raw feeling. It’s nostalgic without being stuck in the past – a love letter to what was, wrapped in a groove that feels timeless and alive. Lush piano, stirring strings, and that unmistakable vocal warmth bring her story vividly to life. “I love using the magic of storytelling within music,” Sheléa tells Atwood Magazine. “You can really visualize this couple’s story. I think we can all identify when we remember a relationship that was once meaningful.”

I didn’t think that I would see you here today
I heard you got a brand new job and moved away
How’s your mom and dad is everyone ok
They still cross my mind please tell them I said hey

It’s clear now that you’re here
What I still feel for you
So can I ask this question

The narrative unfolds like a short film: A chance encounter between exes, casual hellos giving way to the floodgates of memory. “Oh, do you think about us / Do you think about all the things we might have been before we gave up,” she sings in the chorus – and in those lines, the whole emotional arc blooms. It’s not about rekindling the past; it’s about honoring it. “This is a song about remembering lost love with a smile,” she explains. “Maybe you get back together. Maybe you don’t. But you’re glad it happened.”

Oh, do you think about us
Do you think about
all the things we might
have been before we gave up
I know I said that we’re done
But I wish I had a Time Machine
I would travel back to our love

“There’s not an exact story,” Sheléa admits. “But it just reminded me of remembering innocent love that was real. It’s so cinematic, and I hope it will be used in a film or television series.” There’s a strong visual quality to “Time Machine” – a softness in the details, a warmth in its arrangement. Like the best soul ballads of the ’60s and ’70s, it captures emotion in motion: “Do you remember the first time we kissed / I can’t help regretting all the loving that we missed…”

Sheléa and her writing partner Davy Nathan looked to The Jackson 5’s Motown sound while crafting “Time Machine,” pulling elements from that era to help make the song feel even more nostalgic. “When you listen to ‘Never Can Say Goodbye,’ you feel melancholy and thoughtful, but it feels so good and inviting,” she says. “That’s what we wanted ‘Time Machine’ to feel like.”

It’s been a really long year
Summer, winter spring and fall all without you here
Do you remember the first time we kissed
I can’t help regretting all the loving that we missed

It’s clear now that you’re here
What I still feel for you
So can I ask this question

Oh, do you think about us
Do you think about
all the things we might
have been before we gave up
I know I said that we’re done
But I wish I had a Time Machine
I would travel back to our love

Though happily married now, Sheléa shared how the song could have once helped her personally. “There was a time where this song may have perhaps helped me heal or get the closure I needed,” she says. “But I have been hearing from my fans that after listening to ‘Time Machine,’ they have been encouraged to call their ex! To which I say, listen to this song responsibly! lol!”

She laughs, but the takeaway is clear: “Sometimes it wasn’t meant to work out, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t special.” It’s a rare thing to hear a song that honors heartbreak without bitterness – one that lets us sit inside a memory without needing to fix it. “For me, ‘Time Machine’ is remembering a time in one’s life when things were simple. Love was innocent. Life somehow got in the way, and you come face to face with a past that you truly remember fondly.”

Is this our second chance
to find our way again
Can we start over
Is there one final dance
So before we gotta go I have to know

For those just discovering Sheléa today, consider this your entry point into a singular talent – a vocalist, songwriter, and storyteller with rare heart and depth. “I make music for people to feel something and to think more deeply,” she says. “I only know how to be true to who I am, and my art reflects that.”

“Time Machine” is an instant classic – cinematic, tender, and true. Sheléa sings the past into the present and gives us permission to remember with love.

Oh, do you think about us
Do you think about
all the things we might
have been before we gave up
I know I said that we’re done
But I wish I had a Time Machine
I would travel back to our love

There’s a raw ache pulsing beneath Nectar Woode’s “Only Happen” – a tension between stillness and motion, vulnerability and resilience. It’s a slow-burning, soul-stirring reckoning: Tender, yet intense. Smooth, yet smoldering. The track builds quietly around a deep, steady groove, with haunting melodies and hypnotic lyrics that explore identity, anxiety, and the search for belonging. It’s a masterclass in restraint and release – the kind of song that holds you close, even as it threatens to shatter.

At just 25 years old, Nectar Woode is already staking her place as one of the UK’s most vital voices in soul and R&B. The British-Ghanaian artist has performed alongside Leon Bridges and NAO, sold out London’s Omeara, and become a BBC Radio mainstay. A thoughtful, emotionally driven songwriter and soulful performer, she’s drawn comparisons to Lauryn Hill, Nina Simone, and Lianne La Havas – and yet her sound is entirely her own: Rooted in heritage, shaped by honesty, and elevated by sheer talent. A presenter on Soho Radio’s Women in Jazz and a vocal advocate for access to the arts, she blends warmth and purpose in everything she does.

“Only Happen” – the latest single off her upcoming EP it’s like I never left (out July 18^th via Since 93 / Sony Music UK) – is one of Woode’s most arresting and emotionally exposed songs to date. Written with producer Jordan Rakei, the song began as a conversation about being of mixed heritage, and the complicated feelings that come with straddling cultures. “We both were talking about being of mixed heritage and sometimes feeling like you’re not really accepted by either side,” she shares. “So we wanted to talk about that feeling of being anxious and overthinking and feeling your own rhythm to accept yourself – to calm your anxiety.”

Bitterness in time
Don’t know where I’m going
Can’t quite read the signs
Scattered cross the sidewalk

All I wanted
To carry some self belief
But I’m haunted in a world
That won’t set me free

“All I wanted / To carry some self-belief / But I’m haunted / In a world that won’t set me free,” Woode sings in the pre-chorus, and the hurt is palpable – as is the quiet hope woven into every line of the chorus: “Feeling the rhythm / Heading for the light.” These aren’t just beautiful lyrics; they’re affirmations. This is what it means to fight your way out of darkness – to carry yourself through.

“It shows the re-birth,” Woode says of the song. “Let’s me introduce myself properly with a kinda vibe. It’s dark, gritty and makes you feel uncomfortable. It’s about living a life where people judge you on your looks or don’t even notice you at all. The battle of being of mixed heritage and how that can impact your interactions with society, which leads you to feel unseen by the world.”

When it gets so hard to fight
When you see right through the dark
Feeling the rhythm in
Heading for the light (Oh)

Tryna make me disappear
I swear I heard it all before
Feeling the rhythm
Heading for the light (Oh)
Only happen… only happen…

The pain of displacement lives at the song’s core, particularly in Woode’s reflections on Ghana – her motherland, and a part of herself she spent years longing to know. “I haven’t been to Ghana and that is a huge 50% of my identity. I spent 25 years of my life wondering what Ghana would be like and having questions over my identity. Questions were running through my head like, will I be accepted? I’m a foreigner in my own country that makes up my DNA.”

“Only Happen” captures that discomfort and turns it into a kind of catharsis. “The chorus gets us to a joyous place where you feel the rhythm and the soul (music) gets you closer to the light,” Woode explains. “The culture that you have created within yourself gets you through. No one will make you disappear from their judgement on how you should fit in – accept yourself first and trust that your heritage is a constant theme in your life that can be discovered in a positive way moving forward.”

Stillness in the air (Only Happen)
Catching onto something (Only Happen)
Angels pull me in close (Only Happen)
Whispers to keep going (Only Happen)

All I wanted
To carry some self belief
But I’m haunted
In a world that won’t set me free

When it gets so hard to fight
When you see right through the dark
Feeling the rhythm
Heading for the light (Oh)

Tryna make me disappear
I swear I heard it all before
Feeling the rhythm
Heading for the light (Oh)

That acceptance – of self, of story, of roots – fuels the emotional current running through this track. “This was one of the first songs I wrote as part of the EP,” she says, “and it framed the narrative of the EP as a return to home. But when I got to the motherland, it felt like I was never away from Ghana. I felt accepted straight away.”

“Follow your own intuition in life and trust yourself in getting out of anxious situations,” she adds. “That’s what I try to do anyway – hehe.”

For those just discovering her, Woode offers a simple introduction: “It’s super soulful and warm with jazzy chords. I love, love Lauryn Hill, Donny Hathaway and older soul singers – I want to make music that makes me happy and my audience happy. That’s the aim anyway.”

Mission accomplished. “Only Happen” is a bold, breathtaking act of reclamation – one that soothes as it stings, and heals as it haunts. Nectar Woode isn’t just one to watch – she’s an artist whose voice, message, and music are already reshaping the soul landscape.

Holding that dream
A sign to believe
Haven’t seen anyone
Anyone but me

Maybe I won’t, ever forget
Darkness takes over me
Won’t let it rest

When it gets so hard to fight
When you see right through the dark
Feeling the rhythm
Heading for the light (Oh)

Tryna make me disappear
I swear I heard it all before
Feeling the rhythm
Heading for the light (Oh)

Unfiltered and utterly uninhibited, there’s no holding back with “Body on Me.” From its opening lyric to its final cry, Nxdia’s infectious new single is feverish, passionate, and fully alive – a flirtatious, seductive, in-your-face anthem of desire and intimacy. It’s the kind of song that sticks to your skin as it seeps into your bones: You want to sing along, scream along, and say all those risky words you’d otherwise leave unsaid. Fueled by raw vulnerability and cheeky confidence, “Body on Me” is sweaty, magnetic, and utterly unforgettable – just like the kind of love it was born from.

I want you like the pills behind the counter that hit
I want you so bad, my fingers shook with it
And we could have all of the money in the world
But all the money in the world couldn’t buy us this
You’re somebody else lamma ehna fil beyt
Fahem allay? mish bittamly maahum the same
Ma andesh maane’, mumkin yekoun sir
El hagat elly bina’milha de
they don’t know, but we will

“‘Body on Me’ is my favourite track on my new mixtape,” the London-based Egyptian-Sudanese singer/songwriter tells Atwood Magazine. “It’s shameless, cheeky and flirty on the surface, but underneath it’s about being intensely obsessed with someone. When you want someone so much, it’s almost ridiculous, but also so real! A love when you can be truly yourself – your weirdest self – and you don’t give a f* who’s watching.”

I change my hair, you change your clothes
My cheap tattoos, they feel like home
Kiss me ’til my lips are bruised
I promise no one’s watching you

It’s that wild devotion – messy, deep, all-consuming – that forms the emotional core of “Body on Me.” Written as part of Nxdia’s fearless debut mixtape I Promise No One’s Watching (June 13 vi Bxdger Records) and released as its ‘focus track,’ the song pulses with power and immediacy. “Honestly, I wanted to write about the moment when you realise that there’s so much more than physical attraction between you and someone else,” they explain. “When hooking up turns into staying over and your text conversations never seem to end… That need is the driving force and it supersedes everything.”

The chorus alone is worth the price of admission: “Not just a body, you’re somebody / What a body, you’re somebody to me.” It’s catchy, yes – but it’s also laced with aching honesty. “No more nonchalance!” Nxdia declares. “Feel loudly and proudly – it doesn’t matter if the other person feels the same. I’d much rather live with someone potentially not feeling the same way than with the regret of never actually opening up.”

Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, you’re somebody to me
Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, want your body on me
Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, you’re somebody to me
Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, want your body on me

“It was tricky because I wanted the song to be cheeky and flirty to reflect those initial stages, when you’re just trying to get a read on the person and you do this dance with them,” they explain. “It’s all nervous and fluttery, and every time I feel that with someone, I love how it translates and feels. There are lines like ‘it’s ironic and it might take you by surprise, my boxer shorts are superdry’ that make me laugh a bit every time I sing them live. Then the Arabic in it is meant to be a bit secretive but speaking of true feelings. ‘فاهمة ليه مش بتتعملي معاهم the same’ translates to ‘I understand why you don’t treat other people the same’ – it’s an acknowledgement that we both know something’s different about this, but whether the person is willing to address it is a whole other story. I understand that fear comes from caring and sometimes feeling like you care too much. It’s so scary to put yourself out there (in any context really), but I think we owe each other honesty and the transparency of not pretending that nothing’s happening.”

Like the rest of I Promise No One’s Watching, “Body on Me” blurs the line between the private and public self – between what we feel, and what we allow others to see. “The line ‘I promise no one’s watching you’ is literally in ‘Body on Me,’ and I think that’s pertinent to the bigger question I’m asking,” Nxdia says. “If you felt as if no one was watching, would you act differently? Would you feel differently?”

It’s ironic and it might take you by surprise
My boxer shorts are superdry
Benistakhabba, benekttib, bas mabsouteen
I want you like the gum between my teeth

I change my hair, you change your clothes
My cheap tattoos, they feel like home
Kiss me ’til my lips are bruised
I promise no one’s watching you

They continue: “I felt very in my body in the moments when these songs were born. I can’t hide how I feel, and I really don’t think I should, so f* it! I’d rather feel loudly and a lot than go back to feeling numb. I think it’s a blessing that we have all these worlds in our own minds and I think we should be kinder to ourselves about how that’s received. The people who get it, get it, and the people who hate you for it are either scared or were looking for a reason to hate you anyway. It doesn’t matter!”

Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, you’re somebody to me
Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, want your body on me
Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, you’re somebody to me
Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, want your body on me

That emotional clarity runs throughout the entire record. From reflections on gender dysphoria, Arab identity, and top surgery to the thrill of queer love and the chaos of early desire, I Promise No One’s Watching is a bold, self-possessed portrait of a young artist baring it all. “These songs mean everything to me. The mixtape shows people how my brain works and the constant inner conflict that I’m trying to let go of,” Nxdia shares.

“It’s everything I went through when I thought no one was watching. There is a version of me that wants to not care what anyone thinks, and there’s the version of me that cares so deeply. It’s about being free to be who you want to be, having the freedom to express yourself, having a not-give-a-fk attitude, but at the same time being paranoid, analysing yourself every step of the way. There’s always a fear that someone’s watching you, judging you, but what’s scarier is finally watching yourself.” That duality – being seen vs. self-surveillance, desire vs. vulnerability – runs deep in “Body on Me.” It’s one of the most immediate and defining moments on a mixtape that dares to peel every layer back.

As Nxdia says, “It feels like a new chapter for me… like nudging the door open before blasting it ajar.”

“Body on Me” is the sound of that door crashing open. It’s fearless and honest, full of fire and feeling – a declaration of love, lust, and everything in between. “I hope it emboldens people to be themselves and to talk to each other more,” Nxdia smiles. “I think we do owe each other respect and honesty and we owe it to ourselves to speak up for ourselves. I believe in love and moving with love, whatever the form that takes, and I know speaking up has made me feel so much more free. It’s not that deep to feel deeply, and to me that’s what life’s all about!”

“I love people, I love being around people and learning from people. With my music, I’m trying to understand the world around me and allow people in. If they feel like they have an inner world that’s similar or compatible, then we’re so much less alone than we feel.”

For those just tuning in, Nxdia has one last message: “I hope by being myself, my music helps people feel genuine personal freedom. The only person judging you that matters is you – and half the time, the negative voice in your head isn’t even your own. It’s your fear talking. Kill it! You’ll never know if you don’t try.” “Body on Me” channels that exact freedom: Shameless, sincere, and steeped in feeling, it’s a cathartic exhale wrapped in a singalong hook. Play it loud, sweat it out, and let yourself feel everything.

People talk, but I don’t care
So can you run your fingers through my hair?
People talk, I know they do
Let’s let them talk about me and you
Not a body, not a body (Not a body)
You’re somebody to me
(Not just a body, you’re somebody)
Not a body, not a body
You’re somebody to me

Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, you’re somebody to me
Not just a body, you’re somebody
What a body, want your body on me

Blistering, breathless, and emotionally unrelenting, Jahnah Camille’s “what do you do?” is a three-minute fever dream – charming and confrontational, chaotic and deeply cathartic. It’s the sound of spiraling out and taking your power back all at once: A jolt of alt-rock electricity laced with anxiety, anger, and all the vulnerability in between. The track burns fast and hot – a volatile, compulsively singable standout that introduces her new EP, My sunny oath!, with both teeth and heart.

“I wrote this while trying to understand the feeling of losing control,” the Birmingham, Alabama-based singer/songwriter shares. ““I had a friend who made me doubt myself a lot at a time when I sincerely thought it was possible I would never write a decent song again. My management was asking for demos because I had a session coming up, so the pressure of that made me just spit this out and I sent it over 30 minutes later. For me, I think whatever you tell yourself can be true and if you surround yourself with people who make you feel like shit, you’ll internalize it. That’s what it’s about. I was paralyzed by a need to control how other people saw me and needed to write about it.”

Where did I get it
Did it go, did I put it
I don′t know
If I say it
Then it’s kissing the drain

Watching me burn out
With a hose
But the stretcher′s all I touch
Got to Memphis
And I cried the whole way home

You can hear that unraveling in every beat. Camille sings like she’s on the edge of herself, trying to make sense of a body and brain that won’t sit still. “I know you see / My face painted / Assuming I’m always anxious,” she declares with a sharp, almost smirking tone. “You’re not wrong so I avoid you.” There’s wit and weight in her words – a cutting self-awareness carried by searing guitars and an unflinching vocal delivery that sets her apart from the pack.

“This line is about feeling like someone’s judgments have validity,” the artist adds.

I know you see
My face painted
Assuming I’m always anxious
You’re not wrong so I avoid you
Raised your brow, said, “what do you do?”

Camille’s heated, emotionally charged chorus culminates in the devastating line, “Raised your brow, said ‘what do you do?’” – a lyric that feels both accusatory and dismissive, like a backhanded compliment disguised as casual interest. Camille delivers it like a gut punch: Detached, resigned, and burning underneath. It’s a quiet, cutting climax that lingers long after the guitars fade.

This isn’t just a strong single – it’s a headfirst introduction to a fresh-faced 20-year-old with something to say and a fearless way of saying it. “what do you do?” is volatile and memorable, the kind of song that grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. Camille’s voice – both literally and lyrically – is distinct, and there’s no mistaking her urgency.

The lead single off My sunny oath!, “what do you do?” sets the tone for an EP that explores identity, instability, and transition through the lens of youth. “I was obliging to honesty and being really impulsive in my creative process,” Camille says. “I think it worked in favor of My sunny oath!” That rawness bleeds through every song on the project – a snapshot of fresh adulthood marked by defiance, confusion, and unexpected clarity.

Shaved for a killer
And a bum
And the best man that I′ve known
But the shake-up makes me feel more alone

I′m in the basement having fun
When I knew you I was drunk
So we’re strangers
And I′ve got to leave home

Born and raised in Birmingham, Alabama, Camille has long stood out in a scene dominated by punk and hardcore bands. Her sound blends alt-rock ferocity with lo-fi grunge and diaristic lyricism, drawing from influences like The Sundays and Liz Phair as much as Japanese Breakfast and Elliott Smith. That tension – between soft and sharp, loud and quiet – runs like a fault line through her work.

Recorded with Alex Farrar (Wednesday, Indigo De Souza, MJ Lenderman), My sunny oath! captures the volatile energy of post-teen years and channels it into something both explosive and introspective. Jahnah Camille’s voice rings out over the noise – not just heard, but felt.

“I hope listeners can take away from this song to take themselves less seriously,” she shares. “That was a really hard lesson for me to learn and I kind of was teaching myself that over and over during the recording of this project. And I’m still reminding myself when I catch myself.”

And while “what do you do?” only last a few minutes, it leaves an instant, lasting mark on both the ears and the soul. It’s impulsive, intense, and unforgettable – the kind of song that doesn’t ask for your attention; it demands it.

I know you see
My face painted
Thought by now we’d be acquainted
You′re not wrong so I resent you
Raised your brow, said “what do you do?”

Soft, shimmering, and achingly soul-stirring, Hannah Jadagu’s “My Love” is a radiant rush of sweet feeling. There’s something quietly breathtaking about how this song moves – not with a bang, but with a deep, undeniable pull. The 23-year-old NYC-based singer/songwriter and producer returns with her first single in two years, and it’s one of her most tender tracks to date: A pulsing, immersive alt-pop daydream filled with longing, gratitude, and the kind of love that seeps into your skin.

“‘My Love’ is about the feelings that can arise when you’re apart from someone you love – longing, excitement, gratitude,” Jadagu shares. “It’s simply a love song that makes a plea for being with that person.”

Guess I got lucky
when I said I would wait ’til it’s time
‘Cause someone sent me (You)
Now I think I’m alright

Tell me when you’re coming to stay
I’m starting to miss
not waking up with your face
And talking on the phone
It’s breaking up, what ya say?

My love, I hope you get all my time
(I hope that-that you get it,
I hope that-that you get it)
My love, I hope you get all my time
(I hope that-that you get it,
I hope that-that you get it)

And that plea cuts straight to the heart. There’s urgency in her delivery, but also grace; she sings like someone both aching and hopeful, with production that elevates her voice to a celestial hush. “Tell me when you’re coming to stay / I’m starting to miss not waking up with your face,” she confesses in the pre-chorus, capturing the ache of distance in a single breath. The chorus is deceptively simple, a looped mantra that builds in warmth and weight with every repetition: “My love, I hope you get all my time.”

You think I’m funny, but for you
I can’t say that I try
Make my decisions (With you)
At the front of my mind

Tell me when you’re coming to stay
I’m starting to miss
not waking up with your face
And talking on the phone
It’s breaking up, what ya say?

My love, I hope you get all my time
(I hope that-that you get it,
I hope that-that you get it)
My love, I hope you get all my time
(I hope you get it,
I hope that-that you get it)

Jadagu’s first release since 2023’s acclaimed full-length debut Aperture – an album filled with “tender and turbulent indie rock charm” – “My Love” signals a new chapter for an artist who continues to evolve in captivating, quietly courageous ways. The track was co-produced by Jadagu with musician/producer Sora in Los Angeles and collaborator/producer Max Baby in Paris, and its cross-continental roots feel fitting for a song about connection across distance.

Where Aperture explored the tension and release of emotional growth, “My Love” feels like a breath taken in the calm after the storm. It’s still intimate and intense – driven by Jadagu’s gentle, dreamy vocals, atmospheric production work, and a bustling rhythm section – but it doesn’t break down; it breathes. It floats.

With this latest single, Hannah Jadagu proves once again why she’s one of indie music’s most exciting voices. “My Love” is sweet, stirring, and softly cinematic – it meets you where you are and carries you somewhere brighter. Needless to say, she can get all our time.

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