The sun’s been shining, the birds have been chirping, and I’ve seen more muscles tees in the past week than I did in 2017. You know what that means...Spring Has Sprung and so has Beyond The Beat: Track 4.

The bleak winter is behind us and a level of whimsy is in the air. Track 4 captures that notion with a uniquely harmonious blend of alternative, pop, and R&B/soul music. Grab your wires, your pods or your speaker, and listen along with us because things are just heating up.

Head to our Spotify for the full playlist! 🦋

Friendly reminder to tap into Beyond the Beat: Track 3 on Spotify. This month’s mix brings together a range of genres from new finds to artists we can’t stop replaying. The song you didn’t know you needed might already be waiting. Press play and see which track speaks to you. 🎧

Beyond The Beat: Track 3 is here — and the timing? Intentional. This month’s drop highlights some of our favorite artists running the sound right now from nostalgic records to rising replays. Inspired by generations of artists who refused to wait their turn, this playlist is a celebration of fearless creativity, individuality, and community. Muses really do it all — so be your own. Connect with us on Spotify; March is about to be loud in the best way.

Known for his witty bars and inventive wordplay, Wayne uses each Carter album to pull back the curtain and reveal more of the man behind the myth. Tha Carter VI follows that tradition, but now through the lens of a certified legend with nothing left to prove

A Tracklist That Tells a Story

With standout tracks like “Welcome to Tha Carter” and “Banned from NO,” and the surprising “If I Played the Guitar,” the album balances punchline-packed verses with moments of raw vulnerability and reflection. The production is bolder than ever, moving effortlessly through styles, from acoustic melodies to soul-infused instrumentals to traditional Hip-Hop beats.

There’s a playful ease throughout, especially on tracks like “The Days” featuring Bono, where it’s clear Wayne no longer needs to prove himself. Yet he never wastes a bar, using this moment to explore the world around him and reflect on all that he’s become with lines like:

While there are no new collaborations with his Young Money peers, the features on this project still go crazy. “Alone in the Studio With My Gun,” featuring MGK and Kodak Black, is deeply personal, especially for artists and writers who understand how the studio can be both a creative sanctuary and a place where you have to keep your guard up, even in your most vulnerable state.

The collaboration between Wayne, Jelly Roll, and Big Sean on “Sharks” was unexpected, but necessary. The track is a masterclass in cohesion, with all three artists sticking to a central theme from beginning to end, which feels rare in an era where so many verses drift off into unrelated flexes

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The album closes with “Written History,” a true reflection of how far Wayne has come, both in his career and in life. It’s easily one of the strongest tracks on the album. Between a smooth opener like “King Carter” and an outro that begins with a speech from the great Muhammad Ali, it’s clear that Wayne still understands the art of a cohesive body of work.

In today’s digital age, where quick, viral hits often masquerade as full-length projects, it’s easy for albums to feel more like playlists or mixtapes. But veterans like Lil Wayne continue to defy that model, reminding us there’s still value in thoughtful structure, intentional storytelling and true artistry.

In 2008, Tha Carter III gave us “A Milli” and “Lollipop,” songs that shaped every Zillennial’s perspective on Hip-Hop. It was followed by Tha Carter IV, where tracks like “6 Foot 7 Foot” and “How to Love” showcased Wayne’s versatility and reminded the world that rap artists don’t have to be one-dimensional.

Now, Tha Carter VI follows that same blueprint, but through the lens of a man who’s already solidified his place in the Rap Hall of Fame.

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But now? We’re back to the basics.

I’ve been sitting with a lot of music since the last time we talked. These aren’t just songs I like, they’re songs that stuck with me. Whether it was the lyrics, the production or the story behind them, each track had something real to say.

So turn your speakahs up, tap in, and let’s catch a vibe… just like we always do.

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💎 Underrated Gem

“part of me” by horebby (prod. by kizzle)

I knew I had to add Horebby to this week’s playlist the moment I heard her on TikTok. The snippet alone stopped me mid-scroll. Her voice? Beautiful. The harmonies? Otherworldly. This track feels like floating: soft, intentional and ethereal in the best way.

She’s bringing a young Neo-soul perspective that I’m loving right now. Her vocal runs glide effortlessly, and the way she stacks her harmonies? Pure magic. It’s layered just enough to feel intimate without doing too much. But honestly, two minutes wasn’t enough. I needed more. She deserves more.

And if this is the first song I stumbled on? I can’t wait to dive into the rest of her catalog.

Horebby’s artistry is gentle but gripping, proof that simplicity can still be soul-stirring. Definitely one to watch.

✍🏾 My Song of the Week

“What You Have” by Mycah

I wrote What You Have around my sophomore year of college. I was in this phase where I cared about someone, but I wasn’t about to beg for the bare minimum. I wasn’t bitter. Just real with myself.

At that age, I was starting to understand my worth in a different way. Not in a loud, “look at me” kind of way, but in a quiet, internal shift like, if you can’t see the value in what you’ve got, that’s on you. I can't make you love what you have.

This song was written in the same era as Catch a Vibe, where I was already hinting at that energy. “he know what I’m working with and not to waste my time.” I was still figuring things out, still feeling my feelings, but I had no interest in forcing something that didn’t feel right.

It’s not a heartbreak song. It’s a recognition song. About realizing you’re a catch, even if someone else fumbles it. If you’ve ever loved someone who didn’t know how to handle it, you’ll feel this one.

🌟 Mainstream Hit

“Baddest in the Room” by Fridayy

I’m not gonna lie… I had been sleeping on Fridayy. I knew his name, heard some of the TikTok clips, but I hadn’t really listened. And now that I have? I get it. The hype makes sense.

Baddest in the Room stood out to me because it does what I’ve been missing from a lot of male R&B lately. It uplifts without sounding corny. It’s romantic without losing its edge. The way he sings to this woman is smooth, respectful, and just confident enough to feel real.

And once I played the full track? Yeah, it was over with. The production is clean. His voice is rich. And the writing is intentional.

Fridayy’s not just giving a viral moment, he’s giving a full experience. Consider me officially tapped in.

💿 Throwback Classic

“Pieces of Me” by Ledisi

I grew up on this song and honestly, it helped me make sense of myself. Pieces of Me was one of the first songs that made me feel seen. Like, really seen. It’s for the girl who always felt misunderstood, who held it all together on the outside but was carrying so much more on the inside.

Hearing Ledisi sing,

… that line alone stayed with me. Still does.

This song wasn’t just background music for me growing up. It was a lifeline. It gave language to things I hadn’t yet learned how to say. And in many ways, it’s part of the reason I started writing. I wanted to be that song for someone else one day.

Ledisi reminded us that being layered doesn’t make you difficult. It makes you human. And that kind of message never goes out of style.

🎲 Wildcard

“Straight Up” by THEY.

Let me tell y’all something, this is the kind of music I love. And I mean love. Smooth, confident, grown, a little nostalgic but still fresh. Straight Up feels like a new-age love letter with Jodeci energy and modern finesse.

What really got me is the energy. I’ve been over all these songs where men sound like they barely even like women. THEY. is giving the opposite—direct, grown, and confident without doing the most. Not in a performative way, but in a “let me pull up and treat you right” kind of way. Respectful. Sexy. Secure.

They got it right. I'm tuned in now.

And just like that, another Mycah’s Pick is in the books.

If you made it this far, thank you for trusting my ear and being part of this lil corner of the internet where music actually means something. Whether it’s an old favorite, a new gem or one of my own songs, my goal is always the same—to make you feel something.

I don’t take this series lightly. I’m building it in real time, just like the rest of my dreams. So if a track stuck with you this week, tell me. Tag me. Text me. I want to hear what’s resonating with you too, because this isn’t just about what I like. It’s about what we’re building together.

Always remember: good music deserves good ears… and these got mine.

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After posting a TikTok review of my first weekly picks, an artist reached out asking if I’d consider reviewing their work. They weren’t just looking for a shoutout. They were looking for connection. That reminded me that people are still craving spaces where music is listened to with care.

I also shared the post with the artist I featured last week. She had a lot to say. She reposted it, showed genuine love, and thanked me for really listening. That moment made me pause.

This isn’t just a playlist. It’s becoming a conversation. And that’s exactly what I hoped for when I started Mycah’s Pick. A place where emerging voices are celebrated. Where listeners rediscover their love for lyrics. Where music doesn’t just play in the background—it speaks.

So here we are. Another week, another five songs that caught my ear and held my heart.

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💎 Underrated Gem

“Scammer Luv” by Ki’Amora

Let me be real. When I pressed play on The Introduction by Ki’Amora, I wasn’t expecting to run through the whole EP in one sitting. But that’s exactly what happened. No skips. No shakes. Just well-crafted R&B with clean vocals, a sharp pen and real intention behind every track.

“Scammer Luv” was the one that had me hooked. It plays on the melody of T-Pain’s “I’m N Luv (Wit a Stripper)” but with a twist that feels fun, fresh and completely hers. The hook is catchy. The production is polished. And her delivery is on point.

She balances playfulness and control in a way that feels effortless. The writing is clever. The vibe is locked in. And it is the kind of song you run back before it even finishes.

What I love most is how clear her voice is, both sonically and artistically. She knows her sound and she is moving with intention. If you are looking for a rising R&B girlie who delivers every time, this is the one to tap into.

✍🏾 My Song of the Week

“How We Do” by Mycah

I wrote this song while literally braiding my hair. One of those quiet moments where everything slows down just enough for your thoughts to come through clearly. “How We Do” came from a place of real pride. Not just in myself, but in my friends too.

Every single one of us is doing what we said we would do with our lives. We’ve got motion in our own lanes, and I’m proud of all of us for that. For staying grounded. For growing. For showing up with purpose.

From the opening line—“Peaceful melody’s the remedy when I’m doing my hair”—to the last chorus, this song is full of soft ambition and real-life reflection. It’s about friendship, womanhood and everything that happens behind the scenes while we’re still becoming.

I didn’t write this to prove anything. I wrote it to honor everything. It’s not flashy. It’s familiar. And if you’ve ever been in a season of quiet wins, this one is for you.

More than anything, I hope this song makes people feel something. Because whether it’s a lyric I write, an article I publish or an interview I give, that’s the goal every time. To move someone. To resonate.

And maybe, if I keep going, one day they’ll know my name across the skies and oceans.

🌟 Mainstream Hit

“Make a Scene” by The OMG Girlz

I grew up in the OMG Girlz and Mindless Behavior era, so hearing new music from them feels like a full-circle moment. But what I love most about “Make a Scene” is how mature it sounds—like the natural evolution of girls who grew up, got quiet for a minute and came back better than ever.

Their harmonies on this track are stunning. The production is smooth. The songwriting is elevated. They’re not chasing a trend. They’re just owning who they are now—and that makes the record even stronger.

What really gets me is how confidently they step back into the spotlight. This song is proof that the hiatus was just a pause, not a stop. They’re still young. Still gifted. And clearly, they’ve still got more to say.

If you were part of that early 2010s wave like I was, this one’s going to hit in a different kind of way. It’s grown, graceful and still gives you that same “OMG” feeling—just all grown up.

💿 Throwback Classic

“Like 'Em All” by Jacob Latimore ft. Diggy Simmons

This one right here? A classic. I’ve always loved this song. Jacob Latimore and Diggy Simmons had me in a light little crush era when this dropped, and listening back now still makes me smile.

“Like 'Em All” was one of those perfect tween love songs. Flirty but respectful. Catchy but clean. It was the kind of track you could blast with your friends or secretly dedicate to your middle school boo. That balance is rare now.

These days, it feels like we went straight from Gracie’s Corner to Sexyy Red. And while I love her too—shout out to Sexyy—the kids deserve that in-between space we had. Songs that let us be soft and curious, without growing us up too fast.

Jacob’s voice, the melody, the message. It was giving teenage heartthrob with real talent, and this song holds up. A perfect snapshot of that early 2010s era when R&B was still sweet.

🎲 Wildcard Pick

“Roll Call” by CCB

I did not grow up on mainstream hip-hop. For me, it was always R&B and DMV music. No in between, unless the 808s hit the way they do back home. And nothing captures that sound better than Go-Go.

“Roll Call” by CCB has always been one of my favorites. It is the only kind of music that makes me want to move my body, and I do not even dance like that. But Go-Go has a way of getting into your system. It is electric. It is cultural. It is the sound of home.

There is a joy in it. A rhythm that lives deep in the DMV, where we do not need a reason to turn up. We just need a beat like this one. When I am missing home, when I need to feel connected, this is the song I turn to.

“Roll Call” is more than a throwback. It is a reminder that D.C. created something nobody else can replicate. And no matter where I go, that beat will always live in me.

And just like that, another week of Mycah’s Pick is in the books.

From DMV classics to fresh new heat, these are the songs that stuck with me and made me feel something—and that’s always the goal. Whether it’s a lyric, a vibe or a full-body memory, I’m curating for connection.

If one of these found its way into your rotation, let me know. I love hearing what resonates with y’all the most. And if there’s a song or artist you think I need to hear, drop it in the comments or hit me on socials. The Muse is always listening.

Until next time, turn your speakahs up and keep feeling deeply.

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Not just as performers but as creators, visionaries and cultural architects. We didn’t just sing the songs. We wrote them, arranged them, lived them. From the rawness of gospel to the soul of R&B, from the grit of rock to the smoothness of funk, our fingerprints are on everything.

We know the names — Beyoncé, Mary, Lauryn, Rihanna, Nicki, Jazmine. Their influence is undeniable. But before Black women had the platforms to grow, the foundation had to be laid.

This piece is a tribute to the godmothers of music. The women whose history has been cast into the shadows of their counterparts. The ones whose names have gone unspoken for far too long.

It’s time we honor the blueprint.

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The Godmothers and Pioneers

Sister Rosetta Tharpe — The Mother of Rock & Roll

Before Elvis. Before Chuck Berry. Before rock and roll even had a name, there was Sister Rosetta Tharpe.

She was more than a gospel singer. She was a disruptor. In the 1930s and 40s, while most women in gospel wore long dresses and sang politely behind pulpits, Rosetta picked up an electric guitar and tore through tradition. Her style was bold. Her voice was thunder. Her playing was pure electricity.

She recorded her first hit, “Rock Me,” in 1938. It was gospel, yes, but it swung with a bluesy groove that made the church side-eye her and the clubs lean in. That tension between the sacred and the secular became her signature. She could stir a crowd to tears with a hymn one night, then bring the house down at the Cotton Club the next.

Rosetta was one of the first artists to tour with both gospel and swing bands. She stood in front of all-Black choirs and all-white crowds, often in segregated venues that did not know what to make of her. And yet, she played on.

When she performed in the United Kingdom in 1964 as part of the American Folk Blues Festival, she sang and shredded her guitar on a rainy railway platform in Manchester. The audience, mostly white and British, watched in awe. Among them were young musicians like Eric Clapton and Keith Richards, who would later cite her as a key influence.

Little Richard called her his greatest inspiration. Johnny Cash praised her impact on American music. Chuck Berry’s duckwalk and guitar licks mirrored hers so closely it bordered on imitation.

But while the men she inspired went on to fame, magazine covers and million-dollar deals, Rosetta was erased. She died in 1973, largely forgotten, buried in an unmarked grave in Philadelphia.

It was not until 2018 that she was finally inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame under the “Early Influences” category.

But Rosetta was not just an influence. She was the origin. The sound, the soul, the spirit that rock and roll was built on. Every time a guitar growls with grit or a voice rises with raw conviction, that is her. That is Sister Rosetta Tharpe.

She was not a footnote in music history. She was the first chapter

Big Mama Thornton — The Original Rock Rebel

We know Latto’s hit. We know the big talk, the big persona, the Big Mama energy. But before the charts and the catchphrases, there was the Big Mama.

“Hound Dog” is a cultural staple. But before it became Elvis Presley’s signature song, it was Big Mama Thornton’s warning shot.

Her voice was not delicate. It was thunder. Guttural and raw, soaked in the kind of truth you cannot fake. She didn’t sing to entertain. She sang to testify.

Big Mama recorded “Hound Dog” in 1952 with producers Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, who originally wrote the track for her. Her version was fierce and confrontational, delivered with the bite of a woman who had seen too much and was not afraid to call it out. When she sang, “You ain’t nothing but a hound dog,” it was not a playful jab. It was a rejection. A demand for dignity.

The song became a hit on the R&B charts, but it never reached mainstream audiences the way it should have. Four years later, Elvis recorded his own version. It stripped the song of its original grit, repackaged it for white radio and went on to top the Billboard charts. Elvis got the fame. Big Mama got forgotten.

She never received royalties for her version. She was not credited as a songwriter. And yet, without her, the song would not exist.

But Big Mama Thornton was never one to shrink. She performed with a swagger that could match any man in the business, and her presence on stage was electric. She toured with legends like B.B. King and Junior Parker and held her own in every room.

In 1968, she recorded “Ball and Chain,” a blues anthem that would later be made famous by Janis Joplin, another white artist influenced by Black women whose names were often left out of the story.

Thornton’s influence is all over rock and roll, but her name remains unfamiliar to many. Her legacy, though, is undeniable.

She reminded the world that rock was not born in rebellion for rebellion’s sake. It was born out of survival. Out of pain, truth and power.

Her voice is still echoing, a growl in the dark that refuses to be silenced.

Betty Davis — The Funk Trailblazer

Betty Davis didn’t follow trends. She set them.

Her music was a slap in the face to respectability politics. Songs like “Nasty Gal” and “If I’m in Luck I Might Get Picked Up” dripped with sex, power and defiance. She didn’t sing about desire in metaphors. She named it. Claimed it. Let it breathe.

Before Prince was on stage in lace and leather. Before Tina Turner owned every inch of the spotlight. Betty was already burning it all down.

She was married to Miles Davis, and even that part of her story gets buried. Betty introduced him to the sounds of Hendrix and Sly Stone, pushing his music in a new direction. But while he thrived, she got shut out.

She was labeled too much. Too wild. Too sexual. Too Black. Her music was banned from radio, her shows canceled, her career erased before it ever had a real chance.

But her fingerprints are everywhere. You hear her in Erykah Badu’s edge. In Janelle Monáe’s genre-bending confidence. In Kelis’s chaos. In Rico Nasty’s rage.

Betty didn’t just make funk. She embodied it. Raw. Unfiltered. Unapologetic.

She didn’t want to be palatable. She wanted to be free.

The Innovators Who Changed Music Forever

Florence Ballard — The Lost Supreme

Before the world knew Diana Ross as a solo icon, there was Florence Ballard.

Flo co-founded the Supremes. Her voice was bold. Her presence was magnetic. In the early days of Motown, it was Florence who gave the group its soulful edge. She had the range, the richness and the roots that made people stop and listen.

But as the group rose to stardom, the spotlight started to shift. Diana’s tone was softer, her image more aligned with the label’s crossover vision. Florence, with her raw power and unfiltered honesty, didn’t fit the mold.

Slowly, she was pushed into the background. Her lead vocals were replaced. Her mic was lowered on stage. And eventually, she was pushed out of the group she helped build.

After leaving the Supremes, Florence signed a solo deal that never got the support it needed. She raised three daughters while navigating personal losses, health struggles and financial setbacks. The industry moved on.

Florence Ballard died in 1976 at just 32. No comebacks. No tribute specials. No flowers.

But she was never just the girl in the background. Her voice is in the DNA of every Supremes hit that made Motown what it was. The tone, the texture, the magic — Florence was part of that foundation.

This isn’t about erasing Diana. It’s about remembering Florence.

Because you can’t talk about the Supremes without her.

Minnie Riperton — The Queen of the Whistle Note

Before Mariah hit her high notes. Before Ariana made it trend. There was Minnie Riperton.

Her voice didn’t just reach impossible octaves. It told stories. It painted scenes. It made time stop.

Minnie trained as a coloratura soprano at the Chicago Conservatory of Music and brought that classical precision into soul and R&B. Her most iconic track “Lovin’ You,” released in 1975, wasn’t just a love song. It was a vocal revolution. She didn’t belt. She floated. She stretched her voice to places most singers wouldn’t dare go. Not just for the sake of range but for emotion.

Her whistle register didn’t just influence other singers. It expanded what Black women’s voices were allowed to sound like. She brought delicacy and control to a genre often known for grit and power. She reminded the world that softness is strength too.

She was also one of the first artists to speak publicly about her cancer diagnosis. Even while battling illness, she stayed committed to her art and her family. Her daughter Maya Rudolph would later carry her legacy into another generation.

Minnie Riperton died in 1979 at 31. She didn’t have decades on the charts. But in the time she was given, she changed what was possible.

Every time someone floats into a whistle note or lets a melody breathe with grace, that’s Minnie. Still singing.

Teena Marie — The Ivory Queen of Soul

Teena Marie didn’t just love Black music. She lived it.

Born Mary Christine Brockert in California, she stepped into R&B in the late 1970s under Motown with something to prove. She wasn’t the label’s first white artist, but she was the first to be fully embraced by Black audiences.

Her debut album “Wild and Peaceful” came out with no image on the cover. People assumed she was Black. When they found out she wasn’t, it didn’t matter. Because the voice was real. The feeling was real. The soul was real.

Teena could sing with the rawness of gospel and the fluidity of jazz. She wrote her own songs. She produced her own records. And she stood on her own, even as critics tried to box her in.

Her partnership with Rick James gave us “Fire and Desire,” a duet that still gives goosebumps decades later. But Teena wasn’t riding coattails. She was writing her own legacy.

She fought for her creative control when labels tried to restrict her. After a contract dispute with Motown, she took them to court and won. The case led to what is now known as the “Teena Marie Law” which made it illegal for labels to hold artists under contract without releasing their work.

She used her platform to advocate for Black artists and never pretended to be anything she wasn’t. She knew she was a guest in the house of soul and she acted like it.

Teena Marie wasn’t just invited to the cookout. She brought dishes of her own and cleaned up after.

She didn’t ask to be accepted. She earned it.

Linda Martell — The First Black Woman in Country Music

Before Cowboy Carter. Before Mickey Guyton. Before genre-bending was a statement. There was Linda Martell.

In 1969, she became the first Black woman to perform at the Grand Ole Opry. She wasn’t trying to break barriers. She was just trying to sing. But her presence in country music was revolutionary whether she asked for it or not.

Linda’s voice was smooth and twangy with a clarity that demanded attention. She could hold her own on any stage. Her debut album “Color Me Country” charted on both the country and R&B lists. She was proof that country music wasn’t a white genre. It never had been.

But Nashville didn’t know what to do with her. She was often introduced as a “Black female singer” instead of just a singer. Audiences heckled her. Some radio stations refused to play her music. Industry support disappeared before she had a chance to grow.

After just one album and a few national appearances, Linda Martell was quietly pushed out of the spotlight. For decades her name rarely came up when people talked about country music’s greats.

But she never stopped being part of the blueprint.

Today her influence echoes in the work of artists like Rissi Palmer who named her radio show “Color Me Country” in Linda’s honor. And when Beyoncé released Cowboy Carter, it wasn’t just a genre crossover. It was a cultural correction.

Linda Martell walked so today’s country rebels could run.

The Voices That Shaped the Sound

Anita Baker — The Quiet Storm

Anita Baker didn’t need gimmicks. She didn’t chase trends. She just opened her mouth and let timelessness pour out.

With a voice like velvet and phrasing that felt like conversation, she carved out a lane that was all her own. When “Sweet Love” dropped in 1986, it didn’t just introduce the world to a new kind of soul. It elevated the genre. Her tone was warm and intimate, yet full of range. She could make a whisper feel like a declaration.

Rooted in jazz but always soulful, Anita helped usher in the quiet storm era — smooth, emotional R&B made for late nights and deep feelings. She made space for stillness. For restraint. She showed that power didn’t always have to be loud.

Her success was undeniable. She won eight Grammys and sold millions of records. Yet somehow, she was still left out of many mainstream conversations about pop or R&B icons. She was labeled “grown folks music” and pushed into a box. But the box never fit.

Anita’s sound lives on in the vocal choices of artists like Toni Braxton, Brandy, Ari Lennox and Alex Isley. Anyone who’s ever dropped into a lower register mid-verse or held back for emotional effect owes something to Anita.

She made soul sophisticated. She made grown woman music without apology. And she did it all while staying true to herself.

Phyllis Hyman — The Voice That Felt Everything

Phyllis Hyman didn’t just sing the lyrics. She lived them.

Her voice was rich and unshakable, filled with emotion that cut through every line. She had the presence of a jazz singer and the vulnerability of a poet. Whether she was on stage, in the studio or in a scene on Broadway, Phyllis made you feel it.

Songs like “You Know How to Love Me” and “Living All Alone” weren’t just ballads. They were testimony. She carried her pain with elegance and turned every performance into a masterclass in emotional delivery.

Phyllis came up during a time when artists were expected to choose — be soulful or be commercial, be polished or be real. She never fit neatly into either side. She had roots in jazz, but she brought drama and scale to her R&B work. She could float over a track or cut straight through it, depending on what the story called for.

But the industry didn’t always know what to do with her. She had the voice, the look, the presence. Still, she was often overlooked in favor of artists who were easier to package. Her career was filled with beautiful records and half-hearted rollouts. Despite it all, she stayed committed to the music.

Phyllis struggled with depression and mental health throughout her life, and the industry didn’t make it easier. In 1995, she died by suicide just hours before a scheduled performance. She was 45.

What she left behind is unforgettable. Her voice still reaches across time. And when artists today dig deep and let the pain show, when they sing like it’s the last time they’ll ever be heard, they are channeling Phyllis Hyman.

She gave everything she had. Every single time.

Angela Winbush — The Genius Behind the Curtain

Angela Winbush wasn’t just a voice. She was the blueprint behind some of R&B’s most iconic sounds.

In an industry that often boxed women in as performers only, Angela did it all. She wrote. She produced. She arranged. She sang. And she did it at a time when few women — especially Black women — were being given credit for that kind of full-circle artistry.

She first gained recognition as half of the duo René & Angela. Their hits like “Your Smile” and “I’ll Be Good” set the tone for late 80s R&B. Her sound was lush, emotional and unmistakably hers. But Angela wasn’t content with just performing. She was behind the boards too, producing the duo’s music and shaping every part of the process.

Outside of her own work, Angela wrote and produced for legends. She worked with the Isley Brothers. She penned songs for Stephanie Mills. And when she stepped out on her own, her solo hits like “Angel” proved that her pen was just as powerful as her voice.

She had range — not just vocally but creatively. Angela could write a heartbreak ballad that felt like a slow burn and turn around and build a groove that made you want to dance. And the best part? She never needed to be loud about it. She just let the work speak.

Even now, she doesn’t get mentioned nearly enough when people talk about the greats. But if you know, you know. Her influence is deep.

Angela Winbush didn’t ask for the spotlight. She built the stage.

Ann Peebles — The Soul Behind the Sample

You know the song. “I Can’t Stand the Rain.” You’ve heard it flipped by Missy Elliott. Sampled by Timbaland. Echoed in R&B and hip-hop for decades. But long before it became a staple of 90s production, it was the voice of Ann Peebles that gave it life.

She came out of Memphis in the early 1970s with a voice that was smooth but cutting. Soulful but sharp. She didn’t wail or oversing. She didn’t have to. Her delivery was precise and emotional. Honest without ever trying too hard.

Ann recorded for Hi Records, the same label as Al Green, and held her own in that same sonic space — warm horns, slow-burning grooves and church-tinged vocals that still hit like confession. Her music captured a kind of everyday heartbreak that felt real. Songs like “I’m Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down” weren’t just stories. They were warnings.

Even with hits on the R&B charts, Ann never got the mainstream spotlight she deserved. Her sound influenced generations but her name stayed buried behind the samples.

And yet the legacy is loud. Missy built a whole classic around “I Can’t Stand the Rain.” Rap and R&B artists continue to pull from her catalog. Her voice still lives in the bones of the beats we love.

Ann Peebles may not be a household name. But the soul she poured into her music still resonates. Still knocks. Still stands.

They weren’t always the loudest. They weren’t always the most visible. But their voices shaped everything.

These women didn’t just sing songs. They gave them soul. They didn’t just chase hits. They created standards. Some had their flowers while they were here. Others were buried beneath the sounds they inspired.

But make no mistake — without them, the blueprint is incomplete.

Every run, every riff, every sampled lyric or whispered harmony carries a piece of what they started. And as we continue to celebrate the music we love today, we have to look back and name the women who gave us the language to feel.

They shaped the sound. Now it’s on us to make sure they’re never silenced again.

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As a singer, writer and full-time feeler, I take my rotation very seriously. My friends always tease about how many organized playlists I have in my catalogue, but really it’s just another extension of me. So I figured, why keep it to myself?

Welcome to Mycah’s Pick—my weekly five-song breakdown, curated straight from my heart and my headphones.

Each week, I’ll highlight:

• 💎 An underrated artist who deserves their flowers

• ✍🏾 One of my own songs (if I’m feeling bold)

• 🌟 A mainstream hit I genuinely love

• 💿 A throwback I probably had no business singing as a kid

• 🎲 And a wildcard that I couldn’t get out of my head

So, turn your speakahs up and get ready to add some instant hits to your playlist. (Plus, I wanna hear from you at the end. Let me know which one of these you’re vibin’ with!)

💎 Underrated Gem

“Forgiveness” by Gianna

I love when a song feels like something you already know—like it’s been sitting on your playlist for years, waiting to be heard. That’s exactly what happened when I heard “Forgiveness” by Gianna. I was mid-scroll, and the first line—“I think it’s time for me to forgive myself for the things I can’t help”—made me pause, blink and immediately go add the song. Like ooooouuuu… yes.

She’s got this gorgeous alto tone that we don’t hear enough in today’s R&B, especially when everyone seems to favor a soprano. But nah—her voice eats. This track is so pretty, and I mean that in the deepest way. I could honestly hear it sitting right next to an Aaliyah record.

It’s from her debut EP 2000s Heartbreak, and the whole rollout is giving. From the boom box and CDs on the cover to the TikToks that feel fun and nostalgic without trying too hard—Gianna gets it. She’s tapping into that era of R&B that I grew up loving and still resonate with way more than some of what’s trending now.

Real R&B is alive, and Gianna is proof.

✍🏾 My Song of the Week

“Diamond in the Rough” by Mycah

I wrote this in the car during my senior year of college, the day my dad told me all he wanted for his birthday was for me to shout him out in a song. So that’s what I did. I jotted it down in a rush between classes and responsibilities, not knowing it would become one of the most personal and powerful, records I’ve ever written.

“Diamond in the Rough” is about that in-between space: graduating college, stepping into adulthood, working a 9-to-5 while still chasing what you really want. It’s for the soft-yet-driven girls balancing bills, burnout and big dreams. It’s for the ones doing everything with intention, even if it’s still behind the scenes.

Some songs sound like affirmations. This one is one. I didn’t realize it then, but I was writing the life I’m living now: up at 4 AM, still grinding, still praying, still writing—whether it’s lyrics, Substack posts or scripts for my docuseries. Because when you know you have a gift, you have to nurture it.

And nothing hits like hearing yourself say:

🌟 Mainstream Hit

“MUTT (Remix)” by Leon Thomas ft. Chris Brown

Let’s talk about vocal excellence, shall we? We always knew Leon could sing—the runs, baby. Eat ’em up, Andre! That’s where a lot of us first fell in love with his voice back in his Victorious days, but now? He’s in his R&B bag for real, and it’s beautiful to see him finally getting the recognition he’s always deserved.

The remix with Chris Brown just dropped earlier this week, and it’s giving everything it needed to give. Chris was a huge part of my early 2000s R&B era, and this brought that CB back, but grown. Not the teenage heartthrob, but a man who’s still got the range and the presence.

It’s rich, it’s layered, and it’s been on loop since I heard it. Leon is a reminder that real R&B still exists.

💿 Throwback Classic

“Ego” by Beyoncé

The double meanings in early 2000s R&B? Underrated. “Ego” is one of those songs that hit differently as a kid versus now. Back then, it just felt like a catchy, confident anthem.

But now that I’m older? Yeah… I get it. Beyoncé was saying a lot without saying too much, and that’s what made music from that era so timeless. It was bold, but still palatable. Grown, but subtle enough that we could sing along at any age without fully clocking the message.

This week, “Ego” has been my go-to commute song to the office. I love singing along with Bey on this one, especially the runs at the end. It's just one of those tracks that reminds me how fun vocal performance can be when you’re not afraid to lean into your own confidence.

🎲 Wildcard

“Ran Out” by JT

This one dropped earlier this week and my best friend Kelley put me on immediately. She already knew it was my vibe. “Ran Out” is 100% a club banger, but JT always makes songs that feel like instant hits. It’s not just what she says, it’s how she says it. Her delivery is sharp, catchy and full of personality.

What I love about JT’s music is the balance: her choruses are made to stick, but her verses always come with bars. She’s witty, slick and never wastes a beat. This one gives Trina-adjacent energy—like the kind of track that would've gone off back in the day, right between a City Girl anthem and a classic Miami record.

It’s my wildcard pick this week—not because it’s unexpected from her, but because it’s the only rap track in an R&B-heavy rotation. And it still slid in perfectly.

And just like that, we’ve reached the end of the first Mycah’s Pick.
From buttery vocals to bars that bite, these are the five songs that stuck with me this week—and now I’m passing them on to you.

If one of them finds its way into your daily rotation, let me know. I’m always curious what hits for y’all the way it hit for me.

The full Mycah’s Pick playlist is updated on Apple Music and Spotify, so go ahead—tap in, turn your speakahs up and remember: good music deserves good ears… and these got mine.

Put me on. I’m building next week’s list—what underrated or slept-on R&B song should I hear? The Muse is always listening…

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