Blane Muise, known as Shygirl, has been South London’s gift to warehouse raves, couture catwalks, and likely some BDSM dungeons for the past seven years. Last fall, she lit up Charli XCX and Troye Sivan’s Sweat Tour after unleashing her sleek, six-track EP Club Shy in February. Its high-energy dance songs hit with the potency of a gay forand her profound, mallrat lyricism dilated pupils with unpredictable lines like, “Who wants to be real/I just want to be fake.” Like body glitter in your bed, her minimal words linger and provoke; though she frequently insists her approach to this synthetic music isn’t meant to be that deepits silicone still gets implanted under the muscle.
In March 2024, she released her DJ set recorded at the legendary fabric London, proving she’s more than just an exquisite performer—Shygirl is a master curator. Even more, she’s evolved into a Y2K-filtered Oracle of Delphi, dropping sensual, philosophical bangers with the same finesse as texting the group chat on a Razr. But where last year’s release was cut for the chaotic white-twink-wasted crowd—trotting to frenetic techno or blissing out to trance on tabletops—Club Shy Room 2 feels like something else entirely. It’s as if you’ve been invited to sit at the Unfriendly Black Hotties’ table, where shaking ass and slow whining is reserved for those who can actually keep up.
Room 2 is an experimental Black femme imagining of what lies behind Club Shy’s velvet VIP rope: Champagne cheersing to you and your homegirls’ collective slay as a soundsystem’s bass beads sweat down your back. A little classy pregame turns into a dirty martini, which turns into rapping a few verses with the besties. And at barely 15 minutes, its exclusive guestlist ensures that only the boldest make the cut—like Toronto’s rising electronic trailblazer BAMBII. “Flex” turns into a bad ting charm school, with BAMBII and Shygirl devouring a haunted-ass trap beat as they spit tutorials on how to pop your shit. Its violins and organs dip into dark academia, with a twist of early aughts hip-hop when the Timbaland-like flutes drop in. The pulsing hook, “hot, steady, tight,” sounds exactly like what 2000s music videos promised going out would feel like—glamourous, magnetic, and soundtracked by euphoric, stilettos-on-the-couch music.
Shygirl’s ability to cook cutesy, juvenile references into grown and sexy club candy shines on “Wifey Riddim.” Its vintage lunchroom table production, evoking Lil Mama’s “Lip Gloss” or Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl,” gets a refreshing update with the addition of hip-rocking Jersey club breakdowns. Joining her is SadBoi, another rising Toronto artist running its highly experimental and distinctly Caribbean electronic scene. Her command of the mic—“Give me that ring/Let the gyaldem know”—channels the spoiled princess energy from her latest album, DRY CRY, a fusion of baile funk, Jamaican patois, and West Indian influences. As if that weren’t enough, Jorja Smith slides in with her effortless Walsall swagger, staking her claim as wifey alongside Shygirl on the chorus. “You like me the way I am/Don’t need to change a thing,” Smith sings: two unmarried British body queens sharing a knowing giggle. In Room 2, being wifey is a state of mind.
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