About This Album
You know of Justine Skye. If she wasn’t a fixture on your moodboard as you perused Tumblr in its heyday, you’ve seen her as Annika Longstreet on Grown-ish; you’ve heard her single “Collide” remixed across your short-form video platform of choice. Certainly, you’ve known of her, but Justine Skye is no longer invested in public perception. Now, Justine Skye blisters with energy, ready to indulge—and to let others revel—in the fact that she finally knows herself. Skye’s newest music signals an ecstatic, distinctly physical pivot towards artistic liberation by way of the dance floor. Skye evokes the kinesis of movement as if by muscle memory: sticky skin; heat lightning on a humid summer’s eve; languorous hours spent under relentless Mediterranean sun; cheeks that ache from laughter. This uptempo, house-driven era is a glimmering nod to the long history of Black dance music—and years in the making for Skye. After signing a record deal in her adolescence, terminating it in favor of going independent, and eventually joining a new creative team spearheaded by Jahleel Weaver, she arrives at a personal and artistic crux. What emerges is the sonic approximation of a thrumming, glistening heartbeat: frenetic, proud, strong, and devilishly danceable. Above all, Justine is having fun. She knows intimately the feeling of bodily catharsis by the hand of a great DJ. Justine poses a challenge to her listeners: Come with me and dance. I know you feel it too.
