As the temperature drops, everyone’s playlist quietly drifts back to slow jams.
Classic R&B, love songs, baby-making records, ballads that make you yearn for someone you shouldn’t be. And like clockwork, the same discourse resurfaces: What is the state of R&B?
Music lovers are good for trying to dissect a genre into a formula. Vocal agility? Timeless production? Heartfelt Lyricism? But R&B isn’t that simple. For Gen Z, whose ears were trained on their parents’ so-called golden era of ’90s R&B, we know the genre has never been a formula.
It’s a feeling.
Ask Norah’s World, and she’ll give you a simpler answer: “good singing”.
In a culture eager to defy genre, Norah’s World is quietly sketching what might be next. The West Palm Beach–born, NYC-based singer had a breakout year following her instincts: whispering over drill one moment, belting the next, penning tongue-in-cheek lyrics you have to play twice to understand. The result is a compelling discography that isn’t trying to duplicate history, but rather unearth something new.
Her fall EP, Gotta Get Serious, is evidence, helping her get to 700K listeners, 2.3M Spotify streams, and consistent 10K+ plays across tracks. At the same time, she’s racked up 1M streams on “561” as a part of R&B trio bbyblu, alongside frequent collaborators Kenji and 3ee. “561” is how I first discovered her. And judging by the streams, I wasn’t the only one. The chorus itself demands replay:
“You don’t need no one else, you can move all by yourself, but if you need someone, the number starts 561.”
A standout track that could’ve easily been written 20 years ago (in all the right ways), built on funky, mid-tempo production. As the lady of the group, Norah brings more than the top harmony or ad-libs, but a feminine touch that that makes the record whole.
Building on that momentum, her recent releases — “Put Me On”, “Zoe Side,” and “The Spot,” — are gaining real gravitational pull in the NYC underground. The rise makes sense: Norah constantly posts snippets, demos, and TikToks, giving fans a front-row seat as she refines her sound in real time.
When we met for the interview, it’d been a few months since I last saw her at a video shoot in Brooklyn. She’s exactly how I remember her.
A tiny frame with a big presence, she walks in with her signatures: fuzzy boots, new grillz, long black pigtails, and a distinct, airy speaking voice just as inimitable as her singing.
Her upcoming week is packed: studio sessions, a show at Kind Regards tonight, a show in Brooklyn in two days. “I do a show like every week,” she jokes, which is only half a joke. She’s known for relentless studio sessions and performances.
Freshly independent, she writes for herself, and in doing so, writes for a demographic of girls who rarely get centered: romantic but chaotic, experimental but feminine, tender but not shy to say how they feel.
Before the interview I ask myself: The industry taught us the blueprint for the R&B divas of the ’90s and early 2000s. But what is the making of an alternative R&B songstress today?
When I sit down with her, I find out. We talk the Gotta Get Serious EP, her love for NBA references, and the year that marked a turning point for her.
You just dropped Gotta Get Serious, a phrase you often use in your songs. Why this title?
N: I’ve always loved making music, but I did it more for fun — going to the studio, making songs, just enjoying myself. At a certain point, I was like, no, I actually want to try. I want to take it seriously. I want to take myself more seriously.
Sometimes I’d think, “Oh, can I do this?” or “I’m not good enough,” or “I’m not close enough to the people doing these things.” But it’s like — no, I need to seriously lock in. The phrase was really a message to myself: it’s time to get serious, baby.
You said you’d been sitting on these songs for sometime. Why release them now?
N: I was using all the tools I had at the time to make the best songs I could. The producers and engineers I knew, all the little things I’d learned over time. People would say, “When you write, try it like this,” or, “The hook doesn’t always have to be that.” I’m a fan first, and I love seeing an artist’s growth.
Even when I was dropping this project, I knew I had better, newer songs. But it’s always worth dropping where you’re at and how you’re feeling, even if it’s not your best, so people can see the growth. It’s like a time stamp. “The Spot” was the first song I made out of all of them. It was one of the first times I thought, “Wait… I might actually be nice. This is really good.” I always knew I could write, but “The Spot” was the first song where I heard it exactly how I wanted it, and it came out exactly how I heard it. I made it with my good friend Ash Levi.
Outside of your solo success, “561” hit 1M streams. What was it like making music as the only girl in bbyblu?
N: It’s funny. We never planned to be a group. We were just friends making music. After a few songs, we joked about it—some of the name ideas were terrible, like “BBL Girls”. Bbyblu was the only one that stuck. When “561” hit 1M, I wasn’t surprised, I knew that song was good. We’re all so unique and diverse, but we all love music. Being in the group, I just feel like…I’m a part of an equation.
No matter the beat, you leave your mark vocally. Why’s that key for you?
N: Every artist has a root. Stevie Wonder plays keyboard. Ciara is a great dancer. My root is that I love to sing. Before I loved to write music, before I loved the studio — I just liked to sing. I don’t listen to lyrics in a song, I listen for runs. Mariah, Ariana, Christina, Whitney, Beyoncé. They all taught me how to sing. I’m a student. Vocal control, breath control — it’s really hard.
Lyrically, Gotta Get Serious is full of interesting moments. Drill Soul’ is packed with NBA shout-outs—Steph, Dwyane. What’s behind that?
N: (Laughs) I was in the studio with WayTooFresco, my friend Casey, and Kenji. To me, basketball is a serious sport — they train, they go to practice. I was saying I want to get as serious as all these players. When I wanted to fill in the lines, they started giving me names. It was a joke song at first, but it’s kind of a theme in my project, because that’s how serious I want to get with music.
There’s always talk about what is and isn’t R&B. How do you situate your sound?
N: I’m alternative R&B. Everything I make is always going to have an R&B touch — something soulful, rhythmic — but it can still be anything I want. That’s where the “alternative” comes in. It’s always going to sound like me: how I sing, the ad-libs, the runs, the way I write.
And it doesn’t have to be slow to make you feel something, it can be fun. Lyrically, I can get a little deep, but I still try to make songs you can play anywhere. I can make a sad heartbreak song, but it’s going to be Zoe Side — it’s still going to have levity and rhythm, it’s feel good music.
But it’s funny. When I was recently rehearsing with a live band for Red Couch, they said, “Why are all your songs in the key of F?” They all sound different, but they’re all in F. Maybe that’s just my bag.
You take pride in writing your own music. What’s inspiring your process right now and what can we expect next?
N: I write quick. As soon as I hear the loop, I’m like, “Okay, this is what I’m going to talk about.” The beat doesn’t even have to be done. It’s personal too. This whole year has been inspiring. Life moves so fast you don’t always pause to reflect.
Right now, I’m reflecting on everything from the past year — getting through it, writing from points of view I couldn’t even mentally comprehend at the time. I feel like I’ve felt more. I’m older. The music is going to be better because I have more to talk about.
Your lyrics are provocative but playful. What pushes you to express yourself so freely?
N: I like listening to music that talks about taboo subjects. I grew up pretty conservative — don’t say that word, don’t cuss. So even the riskiest things I say are the riskiest for me, because I’m naturally bashful. I’m not doing it to empower anybody else — I’m just being honest. Love is something I talk about, but I always bring it back to myself, I’m really talking about how I feel. It’s always from my point of view. I love making things attractive too — in the music and visuals. Sexy can be cool, funny, cute, and campy.
Collabs are everywhere in your music— WayTooFresco, Ash Levi, Pino, bbyblu, and more. Why?
N: I love making songs with people. I’m always in the studio, and whenever I can, I invite others to my sessions. I have so many features — Groovy, Stephanie, my friend Sterling. I love blending their worlds with mine, their beats and sounds, and writing over new stuff. If I meet a producer I like, I’m like, “Come to my session on Tuesday.” Anyone who’s experimental and down to try — but they have to be good.
You’ve performed all over NYC and have two shows in the next 48 hours. What should people expect to feel when they see you live?
N: Live shows are why I make music. The rhythms exist for the performance. I could go on stage in sweatpants, and the beat and singing alone would make people dance. I want them to feel the music more than they feel me.
What do you want Black women hearing you for the first time to take away?
N: I’m a representation of so many girls. I make music for myself because I’m not that special. If I like it, I know someone else will love it too. I don’t think girls like me—who love rap just as much as R&B—are represented enough. There are girls who love rap, pop, R&B, deep soul — all of it. I listen to everything. I appreciate real music, but I also love mixing weird sounds with R&B. That’s me.
What’s coming in 2026?
N: More music, better visuals, tour, all that.
Live Performance at Isola
A few days later, it’s time for her show at Isola. One of the first real cold nights of the city this winter. Somehow, people still make it out.
The new venue off Metropolitan Ave fills slowly as the crowd trickles in. When Norah arrives, she carries the calm of a performance veteran. Excited, but not eager. “I’m ready to perform,” she whispers. She wants to catch a movie after.
The show, Seven Rings Showdown, ironically draws a room full of rap fans. I was curious to see how the crowd would react to her. Her set is short but full of conviction. Playing songs from her EP, she gets grown men humming, grooving, bobbing their heads along.
Living proof of what “good singing” can do.
I jokingly ask her to play my personal favorite, “Drill Soul,” in the green room, and she indulges me. It’s a song she doesn’t play often. A warm, vocal-forward record, maybe better suited for headphones than the stage. Her performance is filled with stretching notes and stacking runs, making her devotion to singing — and doing it well — something that isn’t missed on a single person in the room.
As I hum “Drill Soul” on the way home way too loudly, strangers give me odd looks. Still, I return to the question of why I came: What is the state of R&B?
For a genre that is ever-evolving, bending rules and making new ones, I don’t have an answer. But I do know, I left her show with that familiar feeling a good R&B show is supposed to give you.
That’s the part people miss when they talk about an evolution of a genre. It’s never immediate. It’s slow-cooked. Built in half-empty rooms, fed by long studio nights and collaborations with friends. And like the artists who carry it, it takes time.
Norah’s World proves the next era of R&B isn’t about reviving a golden age. It’s about reimagining that classic feeling of R&B for the times and letting good singing do the rest.
Gotta Get Serious is out now on all platforms.