GENRE; Pop/R&B
LABEL; RTW
REVIEWED; 12 November, 2025
RATING; 7.0
dexter in the newsagent’s Time Flies arrives as a short, striking mixtape that feels less like a debut statement and more like a carefully written letter — intimate, aware of its own fragility, and quietly confident in the way it dresses memory in melody. The tape was released November 7, 2025, and runs roughly half an hour across a dozen tracks, a compact runtime that the project uses to its advantage: no filler, just impressions.
What makes Time Flies arresting is its emotional framing. Charmaine Ayoku (the voice behind the stage name) wrote these songs while processing the death of her father, and that grief hangs in the air like sunlight through curtains — always present but never shouted. The record treats time as both healer and thief: songs contemplate who you become after loss and what’s left of who you were. That thematic core gives even the most delicate production choices weight.
Sonically, the mixtape sits at a tasteful intersection of Y2K-adjacent alt-pop and bedroom R&B. There are featherlight acoustic moments that recall early-2000s confessional balladeering, but they’re threaded with contemporary touches — clipped electronic percussion, subtle Jersey-club inflections, and lo-fi textures that nudge the songs into the present. The result is nostalgic without being pastiche: nods to artists in the current Y2K revival (PinkPantheress is an obvious reference point) are evident, but Ayoku’s songwriting keeps the sound intimate and distinct.
“Special” is the mixtape’s clear standout — a slow-blooming love song that balances daydreaming sweetness with grounded lyricism. Its sparseness allows Ayoku’s warm, conversational vocal to lead; when the arrangement slowly opens up, it feels earned rather than forced. Other highlights include the plaintive “Care” and the wistful “T-shirt,” both of which lean into the record’s motif of small, sensory memories carrying outsized emotional weight. A few quieter acoustic moments aim for intimacy but occasionally feel underproduced against the glossier cuts, moments when the mixtape’s brevity and restraint can be a double-edged sword.
Across press and streaming platforms critics and curators have already taken notice: outlets from Pitchfork to The Fader and Paste have highlighted Ayoku’s storytelling and the tape’s Y2K-tinged palette, and the record is appearing across major streaming services and editorials as one of the week’s new essentials. That early attention feels deserved — Time Flies is the kind of debut that announces a clear artistic personality while leaving enough mystery for future growth.
Time Flies is an intimate, neatly crafted mixtape, melancholy without melodrama, nostalgic without leaning solely on retro signifiers, and consistently centered by Ayoku’s warm, articulate voice. It’s short, which makes it repeatable rather than exhausting; and while a couple of acoustic choices could have used fuller production, the mixtape’s emotional honesty and strong songcraft make it a memorable introduction to a voice that’s already finding its lane. If you like small, emotionally precise pop that sits somewhere between confessional singer-songwriter and modern alt-R&B, this one’s worth your time.
