Rochelle Jordan is Redefining What Freedom Sounds Like

Although the wind can be unpredictable, Rochelle Jordan moves like someone who’s learned to trust it fully. Her sound lives between genres and doesn’t chase direction — it catches it. It shifts, glides and circles back, bending genre and emotion until both dissolve into something freeing. She’s reached a place where surrender feels more like control, and the unknown isn’t as intimidating as it was before. Why? Because she’s filled what was once a gray area with color, painting in bold, fluid strokes to carve her own lane of music that’s equal parts beautiful, kinetic and revolutionary.

The Toronto-born, L.A.-based artist has long existed between two worlds: R&B that flirts with electronica, house that carries the breath of soul, and lyrics that balance isolation and intimacy. Her third album, Through the Wall, doesn’t just expand on these intersections—it dissolves them entirely.

The duality within Jordan’s music is both striking and magnetic. There’s a ’90s nuance to her tone, a ’70s disco-diva glamour to her aesthetic and a timeless vulnerability that anchors it all. On Through the Wall, that duality becomes tangible. The record pulses, sending listeners into a euphoric, body-led trance while exuding a kind of freedom that’s earned, not given. And as an independent artist, Jordan moves with the quiet confidence of someone who’s learned how to transform autonomy into art.

Before the collaborations with Kaytranada or the comparisons to icons like Diana Ross and Donna Summer, there was simply Rochelle — a kid in London, before moving to Canada — listening to a unique mix of house and non-secular sounds courtesy of her older brother. That brother held a deep connection to music, and was the first to introduce a young Rochelle to the sounds that made her feel. Those early moments became part of her creative DNA, a secret stash that she still draws from today. 

As effortless as it may sound, it didn’t come easy for Rochelle Jordan. Since first emerging in the early 2010s with her mixtapes ROJO (2011) and Pressure (2012), followed by her albums 1021 (2014) and Play With the Changes (2021), she’s been tacitly creating her own blueprint for what independent artistry can look like. Despite not having the traditional machine behind her or the capabilities and access some of her major label contemporaries may rely on, she’s leaned on her intentionality — her ability to make purpose feel magnetic. It was her second effort, Play With the Changes, that positioned her as one of R&B’s most forward-thinking voices, alongside her creative bond with Kaytranada, whom she says “is his very own genre.”

When speaking with Okayplayer, Jordan is grounded yet luminous, reflective but self-assured. She carries the calm of someone who’s learned to stop fighting the current. Instead, she moves with it.

The interview transcript below has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

Okayplayer: Your third album, Through the Wall, dropped in September. There’s almost a cinematic feel to it: a late-night, “90-in-a-30” vibe where you’re driving and just zone out. What did you have to channel to create this project?

Rochelle Jordan: Creating this project was really about owning back to the past and my childhood and what made me even want to do music in the first place. I’ve been independent for a long time, and it’s been an interesting journey. I’ve had a producer that has executive produced me since the very beginning — KLSH — and we’ve always pushed ourselves to evolve, to stay daring, to blend the genres, and to make sure we’re touching on all points of soul. I never want to be predictable. For Through the Wall, it was about moving forward but not being so predictable—pushing toward greatness, like the artists who inspired me: Chaka Khan, [Aaliyah], Anita Baker.

How has your personal journey overlapped with your musical evolution?

Life shapes everything. I look back and I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Being independent — having little to no resources — and having to step up to the plate to create, literally building your house from scratch, brick by brick… It's a lot of anxiety, imposter syndrome and struggle. But through that, I was really able to find myself. It builds character and makes you strong enough to see your vision through.

You’ve been in this long enough to see success defined in different ways. Do you chase milestones, or has your idea of success changed?

Success looks different for everybody. For me, it’s about being a vessel. Creating something that touches souls. The accolades and all that will come in time. After 1021, I thought my breakout was coming, and it didn’t. That was a huge blow to the ego. Now I let success come. When “Lowkey” went viral on TikTok, it reminded me that divine alignment is real. I’m focused on the purpose, not the outcome.

You’ve blended electronic textures into your sound and earned comparisons to icons like Janet Jackson, Diana Ross and Donna Summer. How do you process that?

At first it’s intimidating — and sometimes a little annoying — that’s natural. But I get it. People are trying to correlate what they’re hearing with something they’ve loved before. I’ve had to surrender to that. Over time, they’ll just start hearing me.

What drew you to those influences in the first place?

Growing up in London, then Canada, and later living in the States, I’ve been surrounded by culture. My parents are Jamaican, so I’ve always been in a melting pot of sound. My older brother, who’s autistic, played Aretha Franklin gospel-house mixes and jungle tapes nonstop. I couldn’t tell you every artist or track because of the way the tapes were labeled, but I remember the feeling. Those moments shaped me. They taught me to speak the language of everything I’ve ever loved.

You mentioned getting “butterflies” from songs you loved as a kid. Do you still create with that instinct?

Always. My main focus is to give people the butterfly feelings I felt, like hearing Mariah Carey’s “Honey,” or 112’s “Only You.” I never want to be one note. I like to be entertained [by] music, taken on a ride that’s unexpected. That’s the intention behind what I create.

Your visuals feel intentional. How do you approach the visual side of your storytelling?

Visuals can make or break intention, especially now. Being independent means you have to be careful and strategic. Less is more, more natural, more honest. [KLSH] and I handle everything with care. With this rollout, I wanted to expand on my inner diva — channeling Diana Ross and Chaka Khan — and move into my femininity. I’ve always been a tomboy, but now I’m stepping into being that strong woman, empowered and full of soulful essence.

That duality — the strength and vulnerability — is part of what makes those women timeless. How do you interpret that balance in your work?

Truth and honesty. The greats took their real stories — or stories of their loved ones — and shaped them into music. Less was more. Minimal, wild and free. That’s what registers with me now: simplicity that still feels powerful.

You’ve spoken about challenges as an independent artist and as a Black woman in electronic and R&B spaces. How have you navigated that?

It’s always difficult. Independence gives me control, but being a Black woman adds another layer. People are still learning that Black music is pop music. You see giants like Beyoncé and Rihanna constantly trying to break that mentality. I stay confident in my voice. I know my music is pop, centered in R&B, with dance and electronic elements. If you have an ear — and taste — you’ll recognize that. It’s a fight, but it’s a good one.

Your creative partnership with Kaytranada has been powerful. How has it shaped your artistry? 

He’s incredible. We share the same influences and love for soulful dance music. When he heard Play With the Changes, he was like, “We’ve got to work together,” and we made “Lover/ Friend.” He’s become family. Honestly, Kaytranada is his own genre — you hear a beat and you know. He’s a master at what he does, and I’m grateful to have that energy woven into my story.