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. Her R&B oeuvre has likely provided tender ambience in your most vulnerable periods of heartbreak. 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.