There’s a stillness in Under My Quiet that feels familiar, yet something stirs beneath. Warm, soulful layers drift over a steady groove, carrying a voice that speaks softly but leaves echoes. It moves at its own pace, never rushing, letting each note breathe. The kind of song that lingers — not because it shouts, but because it says just enough.

[LYRICS]

Under my quiet… I’m still awake.
Under my quiet… I hold the weight.

Curtains move, the streetlights hum
Footsteps fade, but I don’t run
Hands stay warm, my breath stays slow
Not every fight is mine to show

I keep the fire where you can’t see
And that’s enough for me

Under my quiet, the ground is mine
Nothing can shake what I’ve designed
Storms can surround, but I won’t sway
Under my quiet, I’ll stay

Glass once broke, but I learned the sound
Found my steps on uneven ground
I don’t need light to know the way
Some truths don’t need to say

I keep the fire where you can’t see
And that’s enough for me

Under my quiet, the ground is mine
Nothing can shake what I’ve designed
Storms can surround, but I won’t sway
Under my quiet, I’ll stay

You’ll hear the echo when I choose to speak
But silence can carry what words can’t keep

Under my quiet, the ground is mine
Nothing can shake what I’ve designed
Storms can surround, but I won’t sway
Under my quiet, I’ll stay

Under my quiet…
I stay.

Under My Quiet - The Album’s Unexpected Pulse in Contemporary R&B and Retro Soul

I’ve always lived at the crossroads of music and poetry — where feeling becomes form, and melody turns memory into meaning. Whether it’s a lingering jazz note, a well-placed rhyme, or a shift in tempo that tells a deeper story, I’m drawn to that quiet magic where art reflects life with a little more style.

My roots are in classic music — the kind that doesn’t chase the moment but lingers with you long after the last note. Over time, that love expanded into poetry writing and jazz — especially the kind that swings, speaks, and smirks all at once. Jazz, to me, isn’t just a genre; it’s a personality. A conversation. A little tilt of the head and a grin that knows more than it says.

When I set out to create an album, it’s rarely just a collection of songs. I approach it like a personal playlist — one that drifts and flows as if the entire tracklist were one long, uninterrupted piece. Each track leans into the next, shifting mood, pace, or voice, but always carrying the same thread of feeling. I want you to listen the way I do — not as a shuffle of moments, but as a cinematic arc. One breath that lasts an hour.

Lyrically, my work is rooted in lived experience. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times it’s just the skeleton of a memory, dressed up in wit, irony, or longing. I draw from real-life events, then let the poet in me twist, stretch, or sweeten them to taste. Depending on the tone of the album — playful, romantic, nostalgic, or something in between — I try to keep the emotional truth intact while giving it a fresh coat of creativity. A little humor where it fits. A deeper dive where it hurts.

My newest jazz album continues this tradition — short-lined swing tracks, conversational duets, and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. It’s an homage to late-night alleyway ballads, rooftop serenades, and train station goodbyes — all bound together with a sense of charm and cohesion. Each song is its own little scene, but together they tell a story — one you can revisit with each replay.

Thanks for stopping by my profile. I hope you find something that earns a spot on your repeat-play list — a melody, a lyric, or a moment that feels like it was written just for you.

Under My Quiet - The Album’s Unexpected Pulse in Contemporary R&B and Retro Soul

Dikheel Aldikheel