The Story Behind Everyday

Everyday is something of an outlier in my catalogue. Up to this point, it sounds different from almost everything else I've released, although I suspect that won't always be the case. As I continue making music, I think I've started to discover that my work naturally falls into three or four distinct styles, and Everyday represents the fourth.

There's the sound of Ruka, which belongs to a future project called Same Same But Different. That period was defined by the moment I finally figured out an arrangement style that worked for me—a way of taking loops and turning them into complete songs. There are a number of tracks that will eventually emerge from that world.

Then there's Meniscus Reboot, represented by songs like Journey, which explores movement, uncertainty, and experimentation with structure.

There's also the space occupied by Nilikupenda and Sitachoka, songs that share a certain emotional and sonic connection.

And finally, there's the style of Nyumbani.

Everyday exists in its own corner, somewhere between all of these influences while sounding unlike any of them.

What makes Everyday special to me is how immediately it pulls me in. From the very first seconds, there's something about the opening that captures my attention every single time. More importantly, it was the first track where I experimented with a guitar—or at least a guitar-like instrument.

That experience changed the way I think about music.

Working with those sounds reminded me how much I love songs built around powerful instrumentation: beautiful guitar lines, expressive horns, and melodies that feel alive. In many ways, Everyday became the reason why later songs evolved the way they did. For example, the horns that appear in Nyumbani owe their existence, at least in part, to the experiments I began with Everyday.

The song also pushed me to think differently about arrangement.

If you listen to Everyday on headphones, you'll notice sounds moving from left to right and back again, weaving around each other throughout the track. That sense of movement fascinated me. It opened up new possibilities and inspired ideas that I would later revisit in other songs, including moments in Nyumbani where instruments drift across the stereo field.

In that sense, Everyday has quietly shaped much of the music that came after it. It helped me discover new approaches to arrangement and taught me how different elements can interact to create emotion and space.

Above all, though, Everyday is a song about hope.

When I wrote it, I was still recovering from my injury. Recovery can be painfully repetitive. Every day feels almost identical to the one before it. You follow the same routines, do the same exercises, and wait for progress that often feels invisible.

And yet, somehow, you keep going.

For me, Everyday captures the challenge of holding on to hope in ordinary, mundane circumstances. It's about believing that better days are coming, even when every day looks exactly the same as the last.

Sometimes growth doesn't happen in dramatic leaps. Sometimes it happens quietly, hidden inside the routines we repeat every single day.

And that's what Everyday means to me: the belief that even in the monotony of recovery, healing and change are taking place, whether we can see them or not.

You can listen to the track here, or on Spotify.

If you'd like to support me directly, you can purchase Everyday on Bandcamp.