A Look Into 'Musings' By Clark Keeng, Zawadi Mukami And Chris Barr
There’s something magnetic about Musings, the five-track EP from Clark Keeng, Zawadi, and Chris Barr that dropped on May 14th. The five-track collection feels like an intriguing cinematic odyssey and the soundtrack to an old-school film noir lost to time. Desire, that most human of threads, is the linchpin here, pulling at each track and linking them to form a clearly cohesive body of work. What makes this project unforgettable is the trio's distinct voices; Clark Keeng’s smoky, swaggy charisma meets Chris Barr’s gentle, earthy wisdom and gravitas, alongside Zawadi’s show-stopping Broadway flair, and when these voices collide, the effect is nothing short of spellbinding. It’s a rare alchemy, three voices, so different and yet perfectly intertwined, each bringing their own color to a soundscape that’s cinematic, interesting, and alive with desire-charged possibility.
Hamu opens Musings with an immediate spark, equal parts magnetic and feverish. The track’s name itself, Swahili for craving, says it all: this is about the kind of want that eclipses thought. From the jump, there’s a tangible pull that’s hard to ignore. The trio, Clark Keeng, Zawadi, and Chris Barr, come together seamlessly here, each bringing their own perspective to the table. Clark’s delivery has that magnetic confidence, like he’s leaning in close and daring you to meet him in the haze. Chris brings a kind of grounded honesty, like he’s been through this dance before and knows exactly how it can unravel you. And then there’s Zawadi, her voice theatrical enough at specific moments, turning the whole experience into something that feels like it belongs on a stage. What is truly striking about Hamu is how it never feels disjointed, even as these three unique voices and styles swirl together. Instead, their harmonies become a hallmark of the song, in the telling of a story that’s as much about shared experience as it is about individual yearning. Hamu does a formidable job of setting the scene for the rest of the EP and practically lighting the match in promise of more of that heady, cinematic alchemy.
Matziga immediately sets a different tone, one that’s both ominous and mesmerizing. Zawadi’s opening chant is haunting, almost ceremonial. Then Chris Barr steps in, his voice smooth and clear, bringing a brief moment of calm that feels like a safe harbor, but that comfort is deceptive. As the song unfolds, it becomes clear that this is no lullaby, it’s a warning.The trio weaves a tale of trouble and venom, each vocal layer adding to the growing sense of unease. There’s a cinematic quality here, but it’s more like a thriller than a love story; the kind that hints at danger lurking just beyond the light. By the time the outro arrives, the atmosphere is thick with tension, ambient textures swirling like fog around the edges. As the song grinds to a halt, it leaves you with palpable unease that is hard to shake off.
Table was our first glimpse into Musings, and it remains one of its most emotionally resonant moments. From the opening harmonies, Clark Keeng, Zawadi, and Chris Barr announce themselves as a true unit, three distinct voices, perfectly in sync. The track is a highlight of the ache of a love slipping away, with the table they sing of becoming both a symbol of connection and a site of quiet heartbreak. Each verse unpacks the pain differently; Zawadi’s haunting delivery, Chris’s soothing melancholy, and Clark’s mix of wit and vulnerability. Together, they turn memory into melody and longing into something beautifully tangible.
Ngamani rolls in, trading slow-burning heartache for something far more kinetic. Anchored in the Swahili proverb “Mwenda tezi na omo, marejeo ni ngamani”, loosely meaning “no matter how far you drift, you always return home” the track is infused with traditional percussions and synths that lend an African feel to it. After Chris Bar’s soothing intro, Clark Keeng rides the beat with charisma to spare, likening magnetic attraction to a reckless ride “una-move fast, shika breki.’’. Zawadi and Chris Barr’s vocals circle in and out, adding texture to a sound that feels somewhere between a street party and a hypnotic loop. There’s joy here, but also tension and desire that circles back on itself, movement that always ends in return. The brilliance of Ngamani lies in its structure; the constant refrains mimic the very cycle the song is describing. You try to pull away, but you keep coming back; to the hook, to the memory, to the dance. It’s catchy, sure, but it’s also very clever.
Mine(Outro), the final song on Musings begins with Chris Barr’s earnest, introspective vocals. He lays himself bare in a way that is almost disarming and comforting as he reflects on the weight he’s been carrying, and the light he’s ready to move towards. When Clark Keeng and Zawadi join him on the chorus “Oooh, but when it’s time, it’ll be yours, it’ll be mine’’ the song takes on the warm resonance of a gospel hymn. The three of them sound like they’re standing together in the same room, leaning into each other’s harmonies as they repeat the line. There’s a softness to this closing track that never feels fragile and that brims with steady hope. Mine(Outro) ends up being a perfect conclusion to an EP built on honesty and genuine connection.
