Sonically, Essosa builds in layers of memory and intuition. Familiar influences surface – late-’90s and early-2000s R&B, the precision of pop at its most maximal – but they’re refracted through a distinctly present-tense lens, with clipped percussion and glassy synths that feel engineered for the afterglow. Working with producers jkarri (PinkPantheress, Nia Archives) and WAVSDNTDIE (Wretch 32, Tiana Major9), Essosa treats genre less like a boundary than a palette, offering up something diaristic in its pacing and nodding to lineage while insisting on authorship.
Essosa’s writing doesn’t posture as knowing; it embraces the awkward, unresolved moments that don’t quite translate outside a notes app confession or a 2 a.m. voice memo. And yet, its clarity is striking. Crush! understands that desire can be both generative and eroding, offering snapshots of a psyche in flux, simultaneously learning how to let go.
Your new EP plays with the idea of a “crush” as both soft and destructive. When did you first realize that those two feelings could exist at the same time for you?
I recently learned that I have a fearful-avoidant attachment style which is literally the bane of my existence. It’s basically where you crave intimacy and closeness but pull away when it gets too “real” and scary. I think, oftentimes, when it comes to my generation, we like the idea of being emotionally close with other humans but the fear pushes us away from fully experiencing a genuine connection.
Your work feels diaristic but also very intentional in its world-building — when you’re creating, do you start from a place of pure emotion, or are you already thinking about the bigger narrative you want to build as an artist?
Writing music for me sometimes feels like I’m cutting and bleeding out in the most direct way. I am always speaking about my experiences, often ones that I am extremely embarrassed about – but usually, the more embarrassed I am, the better.
I was so humiliated at the story behind “Waste My Time” – it’s about being ghosted and blocked by somebody that I really cared about. I never wanted to write a song about that situation, but I’m so happy I did because it became my breakthrough record. It’s funny how that works.
You’re blending the energy of the ’90s/2000s with a very current, almost digi-pop sound. Why does that era resonate so deeply with you, beyond just aesthetics?
I was a kid in the early 2000’s, so making music and bridging aesthetics that I loved as a child is healing to me. I was always a creative kid, but wasn’t necessarily encouraged to express myself in that way. Being able to have this career now, I feel like I am always subconsciously doing it for the little girl back in the early 2000s who wasn’t able to express herself to the fullest. It’s like my own personal therapy
You’ve cited icons like Janet Jackson, Mary J. Blige, and Madonna as influences — what’s one trait from each of them you feel like you’re constantly channeling?
I think that those women are all very intentional when matching their sonics with their visuals, whether that be hair, music videos, album covers, etc. I’m always looking to them for sonic and visual inspiration but also how I can take those elements of reinvention and apply them to my own artistry whilst also paying homage. It’s not easy but it does come naturally as a creative girly.
You’re part of a new wave reshaping R&B and pop in a way that feels less boxed in by genre — do you feel pressure to define your sound, or is fluidity the whole point of what you’re building?
I feel like the fluidity of my sound is the point. I’ve always been drawn to versatility within pop music and pop artists because of the sheer lack of boxes. Janet could make a rock inspired song like “If,” then a slow jam, then a deep house track, all on one album. Born This Way has elements of country, but also euro-pop and rock. The thread is that every song is objectively a smash. That’s my goal musically – not to be boxed in by genre, but to make incredible music that is tasteful yet appeals to a lot of people. I have a genuine love and appreciation for hit records, regardless of the genre. That’s an essence I definitely want to recreate in my career.
You’ve had co-signs from some seriously iconic artists (KAYTRANADA, Rochelle Jordan, Missy Elliot, Kali Uchis), and have even been sampled early on — how do you stay grounded in your own identity when that kind of validation comes in so fast?
Honestly I felt more lost before I had industry validation. Once people started to like my music and I got my first few co-signs, I was like “Whew, this is what I was supposed to be doing all along. I wasn’t being delusional like everyone says!”
I have had my moments though – I was writing in Nashville with Tay Keith and one night I uncontrollably broke down in tears. I couldn’t understand why I was there and I felt like I wasn’t “ready” or “good enough.” My manager had to calm me down and remind me of who I was. So, it’s always essential to have people around you to prop you up when you feel funky. That was the first time that I’d ever experienced imposter syndrome. Hopefully it will be the last!
If someone had never heard your music before and only had one non-musical way to understand you — a film, a place, a late-night habit — what would you point them to and why?
A late night drive through a beachy environment, like Miami. I don’t even drive, but so much of the music I make feels like it would sound even better if I could. Plus, I’m very sonically inspired by the 80’s quiet storm/R&B sound, which definitely ties into that environment.
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