As you press play, you immediately subscribe to something bigger than yourself as you enjoy the spiritful songs and experience the depths of worship, fellowship, boisterous testimonies, and inspiring victories. “But You” is a 22-track collection including instrumentals by the ex-military man Anthony Hardin who has always used his musical talents to serve the one true God.
Anthony Hardin has always been willing to use his musical skills to spread the gospel and touch people’s hearts with his testimonies. As a well-traveled man, he has interacted with more than enough people and been to so many countries on different continents to understand that our strength as human beings lies in our diversity, not in what we have been made to believe through divisive fallacies and conspiracies from people who obviously benefit from our alienation from one another.
Throughout his life, he has also experienced his fair share of calamities, including the loss of his three brothers to cancer, and instead of these life-altering situations shaking his faith and belief, they actually strengthened him and iron-forged his commitment and firm trust in the true power of God.
“But You” has been personified through the eyes of a human relationship with God with tracks that take on a heartfelt and expressive tone coupled with catchy earworm production. Anthony also collaborated with various artists from Jamaica, Nigeria, Ukraine, and Italy.
While “But You” features affirmative talks and messages to and with God, I also feel that there are tunes here whose messages transcend the four walls of the church. You know, bringing that creativity to worship so that they aren’t merely music in church but anthems you can listen to any day of the week!
The title track, “But You” is a heartwarming duet with a Nigerian female vocalist who adds to the track’s color and elegance. The moderate tempo and gentle groove provide a solid foundation for both singers’ vocals. Anthony sings with a mature tone tinged with acknowledgment of God’s everlasting and ever-knowing status.
“But You” calls for the change to start with us before anywhere else. It is actually a message all of us could use.
“You Were, Are, And Will Be” is another duet featuring a guest female singer from Jamaica. This tune features some dulcet guitar and piano melodies and harmonies and an accomplished performance with a clear devotion to the themes that run through it about God’s never-changing situation and his ever-lasting grace on each and every one of us.
“I Will Not Say Your Name” is a song about cancer, with Anthony failing to acknowledge it by name because he believes the disease is powerless, and even for those who perished in its tragic existence, including his brothers, the battle was never theirs to fight.
In this track, Anthony sings with a poignant tone imbued with a recent loss. Lyrically, the tune finds comfort and strength in God to overcome cancer and loss. While our time on earth is temporary, this journey gives us hope in the everlasting presence of God. The lyrics are affecting, and the message and purpose of the song are even more fulfilling.
“One of These Times” acknowledges how God has always remained faithful to us even when we have failed him over and over again—he still has never given up on us. He is always giving us second chances even when we don’t deserve them.
“But You” will officially be available for streaming and purchase on May 12, 2023. The pre-save link is already available on Anthony Hardin’s official website and his social media handles, which we are going to attach.
“We’ve Moved You Away”- a single off of this album is expected for an early release on April 21, 2023, together with “Miss Me With This Sheet”, a track that is not on the album but is a pre-release anthem.
Rising bedroom R&B crooner Sylk McCloud, hailing from SE Washington, DC, turns up the temperature on his latest single, “Safeword.” It’s a slow burner built for the club, where glossy modern R&B melts into a little hip hop swagger. BuBu The Producer keeps the track sleek and plush, while featured rapper and emcee Mr.24 slides in with a verse that sharpens the edge.
Right away, “Safeword” lands in that moody late night pocket. The instrumental is velvet smooth, but it moves with a steady, hypnotic groove that nudges you closer. Sylk sings like he’s speaking directly across a dark room, soft in tone yet sure of himself. That push and pull is the point, a mix of vulnerability and control, desire and hesitation, all held in tension without spilling into melodrama.
The song takes its cues from the “Shades of Grey” film series, leaning into trust, fantasy, and the charged negotiation that comes with intimacy. Sylk makes the hook the centerpiece, letting the melody do the seducing even as the lyrics get bold:
“Tell me you’re sexy, all positions go
Are you ready for submission
Fifty shades is what I’m giving
Satisfaction all positions
Only one thing missing
Tell me your safeword…”
Those lines set the mood with a teasing confidence that never feels rushed. The chorus is restrained and tempting, built to linger rather than hit and disappear. Sylk’s voice floats above the beat with a magnetic ease, so the hook sticks in your head and in your gut.
When Mr.24 arrives, the energy shifts without breaking the spell. His delivery brings a gritty smooth contrast to Sylk’s melodic glide, grounding the fantasy in something a little tougher. It’s a smart pairing. The two artists sound comfortable sharing the same space, which helps “Safeword” work in more than one setting, from a packed dance floor to a late night playlist you keep to yourself.
A lot of the track’s pull comes from the production choices. BuBu The Producer builds a lush, atmospheric soundscape that matches Sylk’s tone, leaving room for breath, for pause, for that moment before the next touch. It feels designed for slow dancing, for cruising through the city after midnight, or for setting the room’s temperature with intention.
With “Safeword,” Sylk McCloud keeps carving out his lane in contemporary R&B, blending emotional weight with sensual confidence. The single plays like a small, cinematic scene, intimate on purpose, polished without feeling distant.
“Safeword” is now available on all major streaming platforms.
Some artists slide into a scene and hope the room makes space. Killem KD walks in like the room is already hers. Listen.
On her one take freestyle “Trouble Man (One Take),” the Mound Bayou, Mississippi native makes a clean announcement. She is here, she is ready, and she is finished waiting on permission. In about 1 minute and 25 seconds, KD delivers something that feels closer to a notice than a warm introduction, a warning shot aimed at anyone treating her like background noise.
Her intent is obvious in the way she hits each line. When she raps, “said I’m tired of waiting in corners and closets, it’s my time to shine, I can’t be quiet,” it lands like autobiography, not bravado. This is presence music, the kind that changes the temperature of a track. KD performs like she can feel eyes on her, like the tally is being kept, like silence has stopped being an option. Doubt, gatekeepers, anyone trying to flatten her momentum, they all get drowned out by the force in her voice.
The flow is slick and surgical, rooted in the South and proud of it. Every bar locks into the beat with a cadence that sounds fused, not rehearsed. You hear finesse, then grit right behind it, swagger sharpened by hunger. She stays patient. She doesn’t chase the pocket. She lives in it. The whole thing reads like instinct, not homework.
The video sharpens that feeling. Filmed guerrilla-style outside an old hospital building, it strips the moment to essentials: Killem KD, a mic, and whatever the day gives her. No crew lights. No studio polish. No safety net. Just daylight, concrete, and conviction. A dangling silver microphone adds a throwback touch, nodding to a time when you could measure an MC by breath control and bars.
That location matters, too. Hospitals are where people show up broken, hurting, trying to make it through. KD stands just outside that threshold and spits like she’s the diagnosis, unavoidable, contagious, impossible to dismiss. She closes her eyes at points, letting the performance swing between confession and confrontation. The result feels street-level and cinematic at once, early freestyle energy filtered through quiet urban melancholy.
“Trouble Man (One Take)” doesn’t lean on spectacle. It leans on certainty. KD knows what she brings, and she moves like her moment isn’t on the way. It’s here. This puts her in the lane of artists who demand recognition because the work leaves no other option.
Born and raised in the Delta, Killem KD carries southern soul, raw storytelling, and fearless energy into every bar. She’s pushing to put Mississippi on the map, and a clip like this makes that goal feel less like ambition and more like trajectory.
No edits.
No excuses.
No permission needed.
This is Killem KD, trouble in the best way possible.
Fast rising 18 year old Filipino artist Angele Lapp steps into familiar territory with a cover of Hale’s “Kung Wala Ka”, and comes out sounding surprisingly sure of herself.
The performance opens gently. Soft keys set the room, and then her voice arrives, smooth, clear, and almost weightless at first. There’s a calm confidence in how she phrases each line, the kind that can make you assume you’re listening to someone who has been doing this for a long time. Then you remember she’s 18, still finding her footing in a crowded music business. Vocally, though, she already sounds like she knows where she wants to go. The control is there, the presence is there, and the emotion never feels forced.
“Kung Wala Ka” has long been a staple for fans of the Filipino alternative band Hale, a breakup song that lingers because it understands how messy moving on can be. The lyrics sit in longing and absence, that hollow uncertainty of imagining life without the person you built it around. In Lapp’s hands, the song stays true to that ache. She doesn’t drain it of what made it resonate in the first place. Instead, she leans in and shapes it around her own voice, and the result feels both respectful and personal. By the time she reaches the bigger moments, she’s fully inside it, and she really does knock it out the park.
The title translates to “If You’re Not Here”, or, “If You Weren’t Here”, and that simple idea carries the whole performance. At 3 minutes and 54 seconds, the cover has a lived in quality, like she’s telling you a story she’s been carrying for a while. It feels close up, almost neighborly, like she’s singing beside you rather than at you.
The video matches that intimacy. It’s a well lit music studio setup, clean and uncluttered. Angele wears headphones, focused, locked into the track as she sings straight into the mic. You can hear how carefully she balances the notes. She starts soft, holds back, and then gradually lets the emotion rise, steady as an undercurrent, guided by the instrumental swell.
The arrangement does a lot of quiet work. Those tender keys at the intro lay the foundation, and the guitar lines slide in with a light touch. Around the one minute mark, the feeling begins to lift, partly because the keys hit with a little more intensity, giving the moment a faintly cinematic edge. By about 1:27, the rhythm fully wakes up. The key driven pulse tightens, percussion and bass join in, and her voice brightens with it, wrapping around the listener in a kind of reassurance. It’s a smart build, and she rides it well.
Somewhere in that climb, it becomes clear she’s working with more than promise. The range, the power, and the sheen of her tone don’t line up with the assumptions people make about a young artist. She sounds like someone ready for bigger rooms, and she carries the song like she belongs there.
With a recent signing to Popolo Music Group and a debut album set for release in September of this year, she’s positioning herself for a real step forward. If this cover is any indication, she’s worth keeping an eye on.