Previously while on hiatus


Haven't been completely redundant over the last little while. 


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Back on the couch!

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Back on the Couch! It’s been a minute— six years , to be exact—but I’m back. Life did its thing, stretched time thin, and shuffled priorities. But like any good vinyl, sometimes you just need to flip the record over and drop the needle again. Sometimes the B side is better. That’s what this moment feels like. A restart. A return. A soft re-entry into something that’s always been more than a hobby. Music, for me, is medicine. Rehab’s Couch was born from that belief—that rhythm, melody, and bassline can do the kind of healing no prescription ever could. It’s a space where soul and reggae meet, where lovers rock whispers into funk’s groove, where the Black musical diaspora reminds us that we’ve always known how to survive—and thrive—through sound. Music evokes memory. It can transcend time and space. One chord and you’re back in your grandmother’s kitchen. One bassline and suddenly you’re sixteen again, heart racing on a sticky summer night. Music isn’t just something we hear—it’s someth...
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Part one : The velvet Frequency.

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  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...
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"Wrapped in rhythm, dipped in velvet." Part 2

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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...
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