For nearly two months, my after school walks consisted of the same routine. I would put on my headphones and play Kaysha’s “Something Going On” for the entire two-hour walk. Whenever the song ended, I played it again. It might sound weird, but changing songs would have felt like breaking the flow. The beat scratched a part of my brain in a way that nothing else could. Eventually, while searching for more music that gave me that feeling, I found RDYDY’s Magic Goyard series.
Having been born in Haiti and later moving to the United States, Haitian music is especially meaningful to me. Its energy and rhythms connect me to the country I left behind. I can listen to the same music here, but I still miss the feeling of being surrounded by the culture it comes from. Through my headphones, that connection feels close again, even when Haiti itself is far away.
Funny enough, I rediscovered kompa through TikTok. Even though I am Haitian and the genre was already part of my culture, I began exploring it more on my own when it became popular on the app around 2022 and 2023. At first, I enjoyed the short clips that appeared on my feed. Then I started searching for the full songs, including “Something Going On” and “Saveur Gouyad 1.” Eventually, what had started as scrolling became a search for the music I wanted to hear beyond Tik Tok clips.
Rediscovering your culture is a weird experience, especially when it’s brought upon by other people’s interest. I found it ironic that an algorithm had helped me reconnect with music from home. Still, seeing other people enjoy kompa made me happy. For some, it might have been a catchy sound for a video. For me, it became part of my daily routine. A short clip was no longer enough; I wanted to hear how the whole song unfolded.
Those two-hour strolls allowed me to do so. When I was done with school, I could forget about homework and everything needing my attention. Listening to the same piece could seem uninteresting, but the more I listened to it the more things I noticed about it. There were times I was following the melody and there were times I was paying attention to the rhythm of the piece. Soon, I started to foresee the moments when I would hear certain sounds. It was interesting to wait for the sound you knew would come. Even when I knew the piece almost perfectly, the arrival of the keyboard still made me anew.
A few years ago, when I started listening to RDYDY’s music, I felt something familiar again. His Magic Gouyad series explores the steady motion of kompa music, enriching it with some expanding sounds of synthesizers. This collection of twelve pieces can be described as my cosmic symphony, and it embodies everything I can say about music that feels rooted in something familiar yet grand. The beat provides me with a steady platform, and the sound of keyboards creates surrounding space. I can stay in one position, but the music manages to take me on a journey.
“Magic Gouyad #3,” “#6,” “#8,” and “#9” are the songs I enjoy the most. I enjoy all of the tracks, but cannot refrain from listening to those four. Their openings are extremely catchy, yet the most remarkable feature is how the song starts with mostly the drum unfolding before the keyboard ignites. The opening gives the song the time it needs to find its beat. About forty seconds to one minute after the beginning, I cannot help waiting for the moment when he glides his hands on the keyboard. I imagine RDYDY’s fingers flowing over the keys, and suddenly the music is pulling me into a different dimension.
That reason explains why I continue to come back to this music. The first part creates a sense of normality that I can enjoy. When the piano becomes “crazy,” the original normality gives the movement more pleasure. The piano notes sound to me as if it flows from one to the other, but percussion is stable. My mind follows the piano notes wherever they lead thanks to the steady rhythm.
Drums are more important than I initially thought. They are often subsumed by something else, but they are indeed the reason I am able to pay attention to the rest. The steadiness they provide engages the same part of my brain that made me play “Something Going On” over and over again. I do not need variety at every instant. There are moments I want the rhythm to remain steady so as to entice me into it. Once I start listening to this rhythm, a change in the piano comes across more blatantly. The phrase becomes clearer, the run becomes stronger, and I find myself awaiting the new repetition.
The piano and synthesizer are where emotions hit me. Sometimes I feel as if I am out of my body. I still know where I am, but the thoughts in my head become less and less important. My focus shifts to sound instead. A walk or a lazy afternoon becomes something you do not want to get out of.
I can understand why someone else might find the songs repetitive, especially when listening to several in a row. They share sounds and patterns, and the collection asks you to enjoy staying with a groove. For me, that is also its appeal, although my preference for those four tracks shows that repetition alone is not enough. I need the opening to pull me in and the keyboard to give me something worth anticipating. Those are the moments that turn pleasant background music into music I actively want to hear.
Magic Gouyad gives me both distance and closeness. Its synths take me somewhere that feels far beyond the room I am in, while its rhythms bring me closer to Haiti. I like that both feelings can exist in the same song. Rediscovering kompa through TikTok did not make my connection to it less meaningful; it gave me a reason to listen more closely. Now, when the drums settle in and the keyboard begins to glide, I recognize the feeling that kept me walking with one song on repeat. I want to hear where it goes, even when I already know.
