Rehab's Couch

Blog Post | Rehab’s Couch There’s a sound that lives between the bassline and the backbone. It doesn’t ask for attention—it commands it. It’s the sound of a woman who’s been through it and still shows up soft, bold, and unbothered. So here’s to the women who iron their dresses with jazz playing, kiss their own shoulders in the mirror, and never forget to water both their plants and their peace. This mix? - it’s mood maintenance. A sonic shrug, a deep breath, a reminder: even when life or love lets you down, your groove still fits. Dipped in soul-jazz honey but spiced with the truth. Not truth shouted—truth whispered, hummed, and harmonised. Because sometimes resilience doesn’t roar. Sometimes it just… grooves on regardless. Link here:

Back on That Velvet Frequency (Pt. II) by Jo 90 for Rehab’s Couch Sometimes, you’ve got to go back to that place — not because you’re stuck, but because the vibration is just too rich not to revisit. I had to hit the velvet frequency again. The first time was revelation. This time? It’s resurrection. Velvet frequency isn’t just a sound; it’s a state. A sensual throb that wraps the ribs, massages the temples, realigns the pulse. It’s that glide between soul and spirit, where the bassline breathes like it’s got lungs and the vocals brush past your cheek like whispered confessions. Deep, warm, textured — like candle smoke curling slow against silk walls. This new mix is about returning to self. After the noise. After the chaos. After trying to be too many things in too many rooms. The velvet frequency doesn’t demand anything of you — it invites you to melt. To be present. To feel. I updated the vibration. Polished the corners. Let some fresh air in. Same velvet, new dimensions...

Love in the Time of Timberlands: A 90s & 00s R&B Throwback By Rehab's Couch There was a time when love songs had a bassline you could bounce to. When heartbreak came with harmonies, and healing sounded like Joe telling you he was ready, or Brandy letting you know that she wanna be down . That’s the era this mix pays homage to — the late 90s and early 2000s — a golden stretch for R&B, and a formative period in my own life. I was young, but already deep in the thick of grown-woman life — babies on my hip, a full-time job, bills, dreams, and expectations pulling me in every direction. But through it all, the music was always there. In my headphones on a late bus ride home. On the stereo as I cooked dinner half-dancing. In stolen moments of softness that reminded me I was still allowed to feel. This mix is for that version of me. The one juggling big responsibilities but still holding on to rhythm and romance. It’s Usher reminding me to let it burn. It’s Monica telling me...

  The Velvet Frequency: Sound That Touches the Pulse Beneath the Pulse By Jo 90, your musical therapist on Rehab’s Couch There’s a sound that doesn’t just enter the ear—it settles . A tone so smooth it bypasses logic and lands somewhere between your ribcage and your recollections. I call it The Velvet Frequency . It’s not a genre—it’s a vibration. A texture. A sensual register that wraps itself around the inner you. The place where goosebumps rise unbidden and your heartbeat syncs to a stranger's falsetto or baritone like it’s known them forever. We know this frequency when we feel it: The gentle ache when D’Angelo sighs into a verse. The way Sade’s voice folds into the dark like silk on skin. The magnetic pull in Barry White’s spoken interludes, Or the tremble in Maxwell’s upper register when desire tips into devotion. These voices don’t perform—they inhabit . They don’t just sing to the heart—they score its rhythm. The Velvet Frequency lives in that lower register, th...

There’s a special place in music heaven where the candles never burn out, the wine is always at room temperature, and the background music is a smooth blend of baritone and heartbreak. Welcome to The Soulful Gentlemen’s Club — population: crooners, charmers, and falsetto philosophers. This playlist isn’t just music. It’s curated emotional therapy for people who iron their linens and still miss their first love. But while the classics—Al Green, Teddy P, Luther—still reign, the club has undergone renovations. Let’s explore how soul’s most tender men have evolved from church pews to streaming queues, beard oil in tow. The Founding Fathers of Feelings Al Green could make the alphabet sound romantic. With a holy voice and wholly seductive energy, he brought the church organ to the bedroom. Teddy Pendergrass was the baritone boss—equal parts thunderstorm and silk robe. He didn’t whisper sweet nothings; he bellowed sweet declarations. And Luther Vandross? The gold standard. Every lyric was a ...

Welcome to Rehab’s Couch, where music is more than a vibe — it’s therapy. It's been a minute, but the couch is back, the incense is lit, and this time, we're opening the windows wide and letting in the voices of the women who built the house and rewired the walls. This playlist is called “Soul Sistren: The Legacy & The Now”, and it's a tribute — no, a full-body praise dance — to the powerful female artists who have shaped, shaken, and sanctified the soundscape of our lives. Why Soul Sistren? Because soul isn’t just a genre — it’s a form of resistance, release, and reverence. It’s the echo in Aretha’s roar, the prayer in Ledisi’s phrasing, the medicine in Jill Scott’s laughter. This playlist honors powerful female vocalists who built altars out of sound and offered us refuge, rhythm, and raw truth. It’s for the lovers. For the lost. For the women carrying whole worlds in their throats. It’s for you. link here: