In an era where R&B is constantly morphing—blending with trap, pop, and electronic sounds—Lordkez has boldly chosen to look back. Her latest project, You, Me, and the 90s, isn’t just a nostalgic nod to a beautiful decade in music; it’s a rich reinvention of the sound that made that era monumental. From the opening note, it’s clear this isn’t a gimmick or an aesthetic detour. Instead, Lordkez channels the soul of the ’90s while infusing it with her own distinctive artistry.
Released under her trusted label Stay Low, the album follows the success of her 2023 SAMA-winning Testament, which featured international acts like Dreamville’s Bas. If Testament confirmed Lordkez as a force in contemporary music, You, Me, and the 90s repositions her as a student of R&B’s history and a visionary for its future.
In contrast to the current South African R&B landscape, which leans heavily on trap-infused melodies and catchy, looped hooks, Lordkez takes a refreshing deviation. Here, she favors subtlety over spectacle, depth over immediacy. The production across the album pays homage to the genre’s golden age. It calls to mind the velvet of Aaliyah’s One in a Million, the lushness of Toni Braxton’s Secrets. Unquestionably, it borrows from the tender sensuality of Usher’s My Way. There’s even an echo of Mary J. Blige’s raw honesty from What’s the 411?, especially in how Lordkez merges emotional transparency with confident storytelling.
One standout, “Trap Phone,” exemplifies this delicate balancing act. With its smooth vocals and gentle piano-driven arrangement, the track evokes the feel of Mint Condition’s “Breaking My Heart.” However, it doesn’t mimic—it reimagines. Lordkez layers in her own sonic fingerprint, creating something that feels timeless and new all at once.
What also marks this album as a turning point is her deliberate step away from the sing-rap style that defined her earlier work. Listeners who remember tracks like “BBO” from Midsummer or “The Lord’s Prayer” from Charcotta know she’s no stranger to sharp lyricism. However, on You, Me, and the 90s, she allows her voice to take center stage, but as the emotional core. With no rap verses to distract or distort, what we hear is pure, unfiltered R&B.
Songs like “Body Talk” and “Late Night Call” are especially poignant. They strip everything back and showcase her vocal control, her vulnerability, and her willingness to let a melody speak louder than a punchline. In these moments, her voice becomes the primary instrument, which is the very quality that makes 90s R&B so enduring.
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You, Me, and the ’90s is more than a tribute. It proves that great music doesn’t age—it evolves. In choosing to return to a classic sound, Lordkez demonstrates what true artistry looks like. Her music isn’t following a wave; it’s quietly shaping the tide. Looking ahead, there’s little doubt that more artists will begin to explore the nostalgic textures she’s tapping into. When they do, You, Me, and the 90s will stand as a reminder of who did it first, and who did it with depth and authenticity.
In the end, courage has never been in short supply for Lordkez. This project, with all its intention and soul, is a testament to that. You, Me, and the 90s is the kind of slow-burn album that lingers. It belongs on playlists curated with care, and in headphones worn during quiet introspection. Ultimately, it belongs in hearts that remember the power of music that takes its time. Therefore, open your hearts. Open your minds. And most importantly, open your playlists. Lordkez is reminding us that real music doesn’t go out of style—and she’s making sure it never fades away.
Listen to You, Me, and the 90s, out now on all streaming platforms.
