Roots, Rock, Reggae: Fousheé’s Culture Clash

When I heard Fousheé’s “Still Around” for the first time, my mood changed. At this point in my life, existential crises come and go on a weekly basis and mood swings happen, but this was different—I couldn’t even decipher my own internal response. I attribute this particular mood shift to the melody in “Still Around,” the lead single from Fousheé’s new album Pointy Heights.

Speaking with her over Zoom, I blurted out that I believe there is such a thing as a Fousheé-type melody. I instantly regretted saying that aloud, because no artist wants to be boxed into any one type of thing, but I stand by what I meant. Whether she’s making hushed R&B over trap drums, aggressive punk-inspired rock, or sleek, synth-driven pop, there are melodies and pockets within those melodies that only Fousheé would spin into existence.

The mood shift that “Still Around” triggers is complicated—Fousheé is a master of contradictions, and sometimes it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what emotion is being evoked by any given song. There’s yearning, pain, nostalgia, serenity, anger, tenderness, and despair, sometimes swirling around each other at once, and mostly ambiguous enough to be left up to your own interpretation.

This delicate balancing act has been apparent ever since Fousheé’s breakout hit. It all started with a royalty-free sample that Fousheé uploaded to Splice. Brooklyn drill rapper Sleepy Hallow used a loop of the haunting vocal snippet to serve as the backbone to his “Deep End Freestyle.” It blew up (unbeknownst to Fousheé, at first) and she eventually followed it up with her own extended version of “Deep End,” showcasing a spellbinding performance over skittering hi-hats and sparse guitar. To further distance herself from the potential confines of her unlikely, far-reaching first impression, she also shared an acoustic version of the song.

From there, her first project Time Machine featured a Depeche Mode cover, a Lil Yachty feature, and over half the songs were drumless. On 2022’s softCORE, she veered into explosive pop punk territory and brought Lil Uzi Vert along with her for a song. By 2024, she had collaborated with Steve Lacy (multiple times, and earned a Grammy nod for her contributions to “Bad Habit”), Lil Wayne, Ravyn Lenae, Childish Gambino, Pink Siifu, Vince Staples, King Princess, Saba, and Teezo Touchdown. The point is: whatever boxes listeners may have built around Fousheé through lazy labels like alt-soul, trap-R&B, or urban-whatever, she tore through them.

Even in her music’s brightest moments, Fousheé’s songwriting obscures any sentiment implied by the beats, words, instrumentality, and production. Musically, her new album Pointy Heights is some of her most radiant work, beaming with syrupy grooves and free-spirited charm.

The project was made in Jamaica during a trip to Pointy Heights, a community that Fousheé’s late grandfather established after buying land for his family to live on. Fousheé hadn’t been since she was a child, but her connection to Jamaican culture runs deep—her mother was a drummer in an all-girl band in Jamaica and reggae was always playing in the New Jersey home that Fousheé grew up in. The rhythms and messages stuck.

On Pointy Heights the album, Fousheé embraces those Jamaican roots—sometimes obviously, and other times more discreetly through an easygoing bounce or the swing of a rubbery bassline. “War” is powered by an untroubled ‘60s rocksteady sample, and the hook includes phrases like “No one can save you from the truth you create” and “We build our world with the tongue, and I’d rather not be at war.” On paper it might read like an uplifting call for peace of mind, but when you put it all together with her playfully pining, almost mischievous tone, it elicits something more complex. And then in the song's sole verse, Fousheé sings irreverently: "Pray for my opps every day, ‘cause they gon' hate this here year I'm having."

“I love things that sit in between two things—good and bad, salty and sweet, love and anger. I think it's healthy to have balance, and I like to write that way,” Fousheé explains. “If the music is sweet, I love the irony of more gritty words on top of it. Mostly I'm just trying to explain how I feel in the moment.”

So what is Fousheé feeling at this moment, with her new album finished and ready to be released into the world a week after this conversation?

“Everything,” she says. “Some hours of the day, I feel excited. And some I feel nervous. Some I feel relieved, but one thing that has been consistent is when I hear this album in its entirety, it's still something I stand behind.”

I have to start by talking about “Still Around.” I love that song, and I’m curious why you decided to release that one first.
“Still Around” is a song about acceptance and detachment. It's basically saying that in order to love you, I have to have a certain detachment from you for us each to be our best selves. I think it's a hard pill to swallow.

In a relationship, a lot of people feel like they own the other person in a way. I found it interesting that for everyone's best interest, there has to be a detachment for that person to be able to experience the world. They have to share their love with other people, and that could be monogamous—it could mean a lot of things—but they have to be able to experience that person in the now and for who they are right now, as opposed to holding onto the concept of who they were in the past.

I was saying that I'm okay with you going out and experiencing the love that the world has to offer you and it doesn't change our relationship and it doesn't change what we mean to one another. I know that I'm still your pride and joy and I'm okay with that. So it's like a sad song dressed up as a happy song.

Is that a message that carries across the whole album, or was releasing it as the lead single more about setting the tone sonically?
Every song has its unique topic. It touches on romantic love, detachment, nostalgia within friendships, conquering your mind. So everything is unique. I would say the thing that ties it together is the fusion that I was aiming to make sonically.

I was trying to find where the crossover was between the music that I was already making and the music that was made in Jamaica, through all time. I found myself in the 1950s where ska was just being created, and they were replicating Western sound. In the process, they created a genre of their own.

I feel like it's connected. I hear the elements of soul and then I’m taking ska and implementing it in some records. “War” is a sample of one of the staple pioneers of ska, Prince Buster, and I’m reinterpreting that for now, to the present. That's what the whole album is, an interpretation of the place my family comes from.

Pointy Heights is a town that was founded by my grandfather. They called him Pointy because he was pint-sized. On that plot of land, all the family lives—there’s nine children and all of their houses are back to back to back. So there's this culture there that I got to re-explore as an adult. Before going back there, I hadn’t been there since I was like 5.

What led to the decision to want to make that trip? Was it a personal decision, or were you searching for inspiration?
It's something that I always knew I wanted to do. I wasn't searching for inspiration. It was just something I couldn't not do, you know what I mean?

Once I was there, I saw that wow, this is the road it took for my mom to be in the US and for me to be able to do what I love. It made me question: am I ready to pass the torch on to the next? I guess in the present, I'm taking the torch and now I have the responsibility of telling those stories of past generations. So it's that cycle of existence in a family and going back to be able to go forward.

I think I saw that before you took this trip, you were already talking about an album. So did you already have music made, and then you got there and you realized you wanted to start over, or how did that work?
It's funny, one of the first songs I made from the album was a song called “Feel Like Home.” The irony of it is that I went back home, and suddenly I was clear-minded on what I wanted to make.

So it didn’t change the concepts I was writing about, because I’m not talking literally about the family in the music—it’s more like life gems that are in the music. Being there made me want to do more research on the musical history and my family history and incorporate that in the instrumental aspect and the visual aspect of everything.

My actual family is featured in the videos, and it's based on the trip I took there for a family reunion. So in the first visualizer I get the call from my uncle, and then I'm there and it’s me just existing in the town and interacting with everyone in the family and passing the story down. But I also didn’t want to abandon what I was already doing and making, so it's a mixture of things.

That's your uncle dancing in the “Still Around” video, right?
It is, yeah. The bald one.

Is your family aware of what you’re doing and the success you’re having?
They're so excited about it. My uncle was just telling me after we left how quickly the word spread around town and how proud everyone was. He's a teacher, so all the students were sending him messages about his appearance in the video and the effect it made in the community.

We had an all-local crew each day. Just being able to employ 20 local men, women, or whoever working on the crew, it really affects the area and the economy there. I’m happy to have been able to provide opportunities for people there. It’s a very tight-knit community, so they’re all kind of like family, and I wanted to be able to include the full family and raise awareness about what my grandfather built and shed light on the family, which is the community of Pointy Heights, and shed more light on Jamaica and this part of Jamaica, Saint Catherine. It was a very specific story.

What was your relationship with music from Jamaica, whether it was listening to it or making it, before this album?
My first experience with Jamaican music, with reggae, was very early. My mom was a huge Bob Marley fan, so we played all the albums religiously. I think subconsciously, it always had an effect on me, but I was so into whatever was on the radio and pop culture and I became Americanized.

But now looking at the artist that I've become, I guess [Bob Marley] was one of the first examples that I had. He was playing the guitar, writing impactful lyrics, and his whole artistry was based in authenticity and cultural impact. That's definitely what I aspire to do. And now as an adult, I appreciate it even more. I'm going back to the lyrics that I learned and those messages are still very useful today.

There's this one song called “Who The Cap Fit” and I'll never forget, my mom used to just talk those words all the time. She used to just drill it into me, the lyrics to this one song:

Your worst enemy could be your best friend
And your best friend, your worst enemy
Some will eat and drink with you
Then behind them su-su 'pon you
Only your friends know your secrets
So only he could reveal it
Who the cap fit, let them wear it

All the lessons in the music, I still think about today.

I know your mom was a drummer in Jamaica. What do you think about music as something that’s in your blood or in your DNA versus something that you soak up through exposure? Like nature versus nurture, but specifically with music?
I think it's a hundred percent spot on, just like how humans from different regions, their biological makeup develops to adapt to that environment. It’s the same, like if it happens enough within your family, I think it gets implanted in your DNA.

I wouldn't say I picked up her specific skills—I can't drum for shit—but the love of music and appreciation of music is definitely in there. Her great-grandfather was a choir director and had a beautiful voice. I never met him, but I heard. On the other side, my grandmother's father was a guitarist and he would perform at cafés. Yeah, I think it's somewhere in the DNA for sure.

Photos by Alondra Buccio (L), Noah Becker (R)

On Pointy Heights, it's clear how Jamaica influenced this project. Is there any New Jersey on this project, or is that part of you present in everything you make?
New Jersey is always going to be there. It’s in my blood, it’s in the way I speak. It's where I was born and raised. It's kind of like how when you hear someone with an accent speak—to themselves, it doesn’t sound like they have an accent. So it's probably there and I don't see it, but I know it’s there.

You’ve collaborated with so many artists over the years. Why did you decide not to have any features on this album? Was that even a decision, or just how it happened?
It was a decision. I wanted a chance to tell my own story without... I don't know, I'm a fan of every artist that I've ever worked with and collaborated with, but I also didn't want to hide behind features. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet, and for people to appreciate me for me. People still don't know too much about me, so telling this story was important and I didn’t want that crutch of, “Hey look at this person or that person.” It’s just me and the songs I have to offer. You can either hate it or love it.

It’s interesting that you bring up people not knowing too much about you. We spoke about that with Mach-Hommy recently, and Mk.gee is another artist who's getting a lot of attention but maintains some privacy. It seems like there are more artists coming up in a time where oversharing is almost expected, and they’re rejecting it. What’s your philosophy on that? Is it difficult to move that way today, without regularly sharing details of your life?
For me, it's easy because I'm a pretty private person with anyone that I meet. I appreciate my privacy and I use music as a tool to put forward the pieces of me that I want people to perceive. I feel a sense of control and grounding that way, but I just don't feel the pressure to overshare.

"I didn't want to hide behind features. It’s just me and the songs I have to offer. You can either hate it or love it."

That’s not to say that I think there's anything wrong with being open about your life, but sometimes it’s not about the music anymore. I want the music to be the center point. Once you put out too many details about your life, people analyze and pick it apart. Over time, people will get to know me, and I like the pace as opposed to just being a buffet. Let me course it out and ease into it, because it makes it more special when you learn new things. It’s healthier mentally.

I didn't want to focus on collaborations, but I did want to ask you about Steve Lacy because he helped with at least some of this album, and it seems like you two have a special bond. How would you describe that relationship and what does it look like when you work together?
It is a special bond. We can speak without words and be honest and vulnerable, and he pushes me a lot to challenge myself. Everything is kind of this game of ping pong with things we're excited about. We can exist in this world where it’s all about capturing that excitement and making great music, and there’s nothing superficial about it. It’s all for the love of music, and the fact that he’s such an amazing musician helped me with my own ear and musicality.

He is one of my best friends—so forward-thinking, so dynamic, one of my favorite artists, and I’m so grateful every time we are able to make music together.

He’s someone who's been in the music industry a little longer than you have, and he also moves on his own terms. Have you learned anything by watching that side of him?
Oh yeah, so much. He's taught me to calm down. When I first got in the industry, I was very stressed about certain things, and I loved how laid back he was about everything while still being serious about his artistry. There's a certain fun and this sense of whatever's for me will find me, and being happy within his own world. I definitely learned so much from that and applied that to my life. It saved me in a lot of ways.

What were you stressed about when you were starting in the industry?
Consistency. What am I supposed to be doing? What is the right move to make? Nothing is right and nothing is wrong. It's following your gut, working on your craft every moment that you can, pushing yourself, and being appreciative for the people around you—your team, your collaborators, treating everyone with respect and love. I didn't think you could be like that and be successful. He proved to me that you can be kind and laid back but also successful. You can live in your own world and still be of the world and still touch a large group of people without compromising.

You’re in the major label system and you’ve had songs that hundreds of millions of people have heard, but instead of following a formula you’re still taking risks and experimenting with new sounds. How do you think about commercial success versus your own artistic ambition?
I still believe that if you stay 100% focused on your artistic vision, the commercial success will follow. It doesn't happen on the same timing for everyone, but that is just more of a beautiful outcome. If you chase commercial success, eventually you'll get it. But I don't think it gives you longevity in your career, in your artistry. I don't think it makes it easier to sleep at night unless you're soulless. But different people do it for their own reasons. Some people just need money, and I understand that. I think I'm doing it for survival through expression because I'm not a very open person, so I rely on these moments in music to express myself.

"If you chase commercial success, eventually you'll get it. But I don't think it gives you longevity in your career, in your artistry. I don't think it makes it easier to sleep at night unless you're soulless."

Do you think about the reaction from your fans outside of numbers and other metrics of success? Is there a desire to challenge or surprise your fans?
I think every artist thinks of numbers, but that can be a dangerous game and it will change the art. So I try not to, but I’m a human being and something I do look [at numbers] and I do see what people may say. I take it with a grain of salt, I work on what I can within myself because I don’t think anyone is a hundred percent right or perfect, but there are some things I choose to ignore.

I always want to make it an experience for my fans, but I don’t consider the surprise element when I’m making music or planning the rollout. But I mean, I wouldn’t want my supporters to be bored. [Laughs]

It's fun to not know exactly what to expect out of an artist.
Oh, it's scary!

It’s exciting.
I never thought about it that way. It's scary to see the reaction. You never can calculate it. You never know what's going to surprise someone. I thought a natural next step from my first album was to make a punk album. It didn't feel like a surprise to me. But it was, and what surprised me more was that people were shocked that I was making punk music.

It's funny that a lot of artists go into punk at some point, but at the same time, it doesn't surprise me because it's a genre that is about resisting the system. So when you're in the system, it's a feeling that's natural.

And then people just implement it in different ways, within their attitude of not caring what people think or say. So I think anything can be punk and have that feeling, even ska. What I thought was interesting about this genre as I did my research, was in the second wave of ska in the ‘70s, Jamaicans immigrated to the UK, and ska came together with punk and new wave and reggae to make this second wave of ska that still had all those textures in it. I think that's what I'm also incorporating here—the mixture and the feeling of all the genres that I love and all the music that I've made. So it's just another element to it. I didn't abandon softCORE. I didn't abandon Time Machine. It’s all still in here to make this new era of sound.

The visuals around this album are also really distinct. I saw your post mentioning Malick Sidibé and I was looking into his work, and it was cool seeing that and then looking back at some of your imagery. When did that start coming into focus for you?
I was looking back at where these kinds of overlaps happened, and I was looking at rock in Africa in the ‘60s and ‘70s with bands like Witch. I love what that music sounded like, and what it looked like visually. I did more research on African rock during that time, just seeing what it felt like visually, and [Sidibé] was an example of that.

In the late ‘60s, he took photos of local youth in Mali, and portrayed them to look like the rock stars and movie stars they wanted to be. How that looked and felt and tasted, and the textures—it nods to Africa and all Black music, and it was so clean and clear. The blend, that was exactly how I felt. And there was not much imagery of what that feeling was. I knew it had to be a derivative of that, and that we had to create our own interpretation of it. So I think it has some of that mixed in with a more modern, maybe punk-leaning feeling.

So much of your music has a bittersweet quality to it, at least for me. I can’t really put my finger on it. Sometimes it’s the melodies more than the words. I was wondering: what comes first when you’re making a song?
Usually the melody comes first. but sometimes a concept or idea will come first. I am a person of balance. I love things that sit in between two things—good and bad, salty, sweet, love and anger. I think it's healthy to have balance, and I like to write that way. If the music is sweet, I love the irony of more gritty words on top of it.

Mostly I'm just trying to explain how I feel in the moment. It could be a reaction to the music, how the music makes me feel, what emotions it incites. I’m trying to capture how I feel in a bottle, in a time capsule, and I never know what's going to come out. After that, it’s always built on and drawn out more—what else can I say about it? How can I balance this record? What else does this record need for the feeling to be conveyed? I’m still learning about that balance and making it more dynamic.

"I love things that sit in between two things—good and bad, salty, sweet, love and anger. I think it's healthy to have balance."

On my first album, I was scared of drums. I felt like drums boxed in the song to a genre. It’s like once, you add this type of drum, it's hip-hop, it's rock or whatever. And I wanted to be all those things, so I just took out drums. There's so many acoustic songs on there. And then softCORE was, for the most part, pigeonholed into one world. I'm just learning. I'm always learning.

That's interesting about the drums. I never thought of it like that, but you're right. Even if you take a song that is a straightforward rock song, but you add trap drums, it's just some version of trap now.
Yeah, it's so true. Maybe because the drums are the heartbeat.

Do you get bored quickly? Or maybe not bored, but once you live in a sonic world for a while, are you ready to move on? Or do you ever want to stay in one world for a little longer?
I do get bored. I don’t think I could make one sound for the rest of my life, but it’s interesting because I love artists who I can depend on in that way. Like a Bob [Marley]—you know what you’re going to get with Bob. Or Tracy Chapman, or Ecco2k. They kind of have their coined sounds, but I’d get bored if I had to stay in one sonic palette. I just don’t think I’m that type of artist. Maybe I’m someone put here to find new paths.

There are certain things that I associate with you throughout all of your music, though. To me, there is such a thing as a Fousheé type melody. Even if the music is totally different from album to album, you find these melodies that feel very unique to you.
I'd be interested to hear what a Fousheé type melody is. I'll say: I don't do a lot of major chords.

I don't know what it is. I think it ties back to that bittersweet feeling. But there are certain melodies that I'm like, oh, that's something only Fousheé would come up with.
I love a melody that kind of makes me want to cry a little bit.

With this album being finished and so close to being out, how are you feeling right now? Are you excited, nervous, relieved?
Everything. Everything. Some hours of the day, I feel excited. And some I feel nervous. Some I feel relieved, but one thing that has been consistent is when I hear this album in its entirety, it's still something I stand behind.

When do you start thinking about what's next?
Always.

Are you already working on new music?
Yeah, I have a lot of things. I'm always thinking about what the next thing is, and I have some... I kind of have another album.

Damn.
A different sound. But nothing is in stone. I have a lot of exploring to do. I want to see some art and listen to all the music I can. I want to experience all the life I can to see what the next evolution of myself is going to be. I don't know. And that's beautiful.

I think that's a good way to end it, unless there's anything else you want to talk about.
Let me think. Wait, hold on...

*Hums quietly*

Hm...

*More humming that starts to sound like the seed of a new Fousheé song*

I think we talked about it all. Yeah, we touched on everything.