Born in Zimbabwe and raised across cities like London, New York and Toronto before eventually settling in Calgary, Kuzi Cee doesn’t come from one fixed scene—and you can hear that in the music. His approach to R&B feels shaped by movement: different cities, different influences, all landing in one place.
Over the past couple of years, he’s been building steady momentum, first catching attention online with early snippets of ‘Rather Be,’ a track that went on to pick up millions of streams and views across platforms. That moment translated offline too—festival slots, opening sets, and a growing audience that’s been following him from social media into real rooms. He’s shared stages with artists like Mario, Nelly and Ashanti, while also performing at spaces like the Calgary Stampede, slowly building a live presence to match the online buzz.
In 2026, that trajectory took a bigger step forward with his signing to Universal Music Canada, marking a shift from independent momentum to a wider global push. But what’s been consistent through all of it is the core of his music—songs that sit in vulnerability and lean into love, even when it’s messy or unresolved. His recent releases continue to double down on that space, positioning him as part of a new wave of Canadian R&B artists who aren’t trying to fit into one lane, but are instead building their own from the ground up.
For Rolling Stone Canada’s Future of Music 2026, Kuzi Cee talks about coming up outside the usual industry centres, why emotion still sits at the centre of his writing, and how he’s thinking about building his career one release at a time.
You’re coming out of Calgary, which isn’t always seen as a central R&B hub. How has that shaped the way you approach your music and audience?
For me, my background is tied to many cultures and regions, so naturally, my music incorporates different sub-genres and production elements. That has played a major role in shaping my take on R&B and how it’s been received locally. It’s still deeply rooted in R&B, but it also welcomes listeners who gravitate toward pop, rap/hip-hop, Afrobeats, dancehall, and dance music. Blending genres came naturally to me, and it’s helped bring both new and existing listeners into the space. Calgary has seen a lot of success in folk, pop, and country, so it’s not always easy to pull people’s attention away from those legends and get them to take a chance on my music and on R&B as a whole.
R&B right now is pulling in a lot of different influences and directions. Where do you feel your voice fits within that space?
I like to think I’m carving out my own lane in the R&B space with the yearners, the lovers, and the “wear your heart on your sleeve” types. The best part of R&B, in my opinion, is the vulnerability and emotion tied to the music. That is exactly where I try to live. I don’t shy away from telling uncomfortable stories that people can relate to and think, “I’ve definitely been there.”
As a songwriter, what are you trying to say that you don’t feel like you’re hearing enough from other artists?
It’s okay to be happy. It’s okay to be sad, depressed, or overjoyed. Emotions are just that—emotions. There aren’t necessarily good or bad ones, even though they can feel difficult at times. It’s important to feel things fully and take your time with that. That’s one of the best parts of being human.
A lot of artists today are building through singles and moments rather than full projects. How are you planning to pace your releases?
It’s hard to push a full-length project of all new songs as an emerging artist, especially in the attention economy we’re in. I have hopes of doing that one day, but for now, I want to stay consistent with releases and continue building out my artist world before taking that on. I’m an album listener too, so I’d want to really take the time to build out the music and then tell that story in a longer form. For now, let’s keep the singles pushing. It’s definitely a different game from what I grew up on as a music listener, but the change has allowed a lot of voices, including mine, to be heard.
If someone listens to your music for the first time, what do you want them to sit with after it ends?
“Man, he really loves to love” or “who hurt him?” (ahaha). I want first-time listeners to be hit by the sonics right away—strong instrumentation, tight vocal arrangements, storytelling. I also want them to be brought into a world of love they might not have heard before, or haven’t felt in a long time.
Do you think R&B right now is being shaped more by artists or by the platforms it lives on?
I would say R&B is being shaped by the artists. When I look at the ones leading the genre right now, they all have their own distinct sounds, which isn’t easy in R&B. Artists like Leon Thomas and Kehlani each have their own way of telling their stories, which inspires millions. From production to themes to visuals and live shows, artists are the driving force. Platforms help amplify that spotlight, but the genre is in a really healthy place because artists are focused on the details and care about their craft.
What are your thoughts about the Future of Music in Canada?
Music in Canada is in a strong place. We have so many talented people being recognized on a global stage and across platforms. It’s amazing to see our voices being heard, our stories being shared, and our community continuing to grow.
Courtesy of Martin Garrix
Louis Van Baar*
Liam Payne (left) and Harry Styles of One Direction onstage during the 2013 American Music Awards at Nokia Theatre L.A. Live on Nov. 24, 2013
Harry Styles Finds the Right Words on Liam Payne Tribute Song
For the past seven weeks, Harry Styles has reserved two minutes at each of his Madison Square Garden shows to reflect on the last time he gathered this many people in this room. Four years have passed since he performed 15 record-breaking nights at the venue during his Love on Tour. Now, every night at the new Together, Together shows, which span 30 nights at MSG, he acknowledges that “a lot of life happened to me and landed on me in ways that maybe it hadn’t before.”
Styles doesn’t usually go into much more detail; he typically just describes those in-between years as “a great reminder for me of just how wonderful and beautiful, difficult and inspiring, and also how fragile a life can be.” He encourages the audience to look around at each other and celebrate the community they’ve built together. Then he dives into “Sign of the Times.” It happens every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday like clockwork. But when he delivered this speech on Friday, Oct. 16, there was a shift. It didn’t conclude in its usual way.
Instead, Styles turned his attention to the banner commemorating his 15 consecutive nights at the Garden in 2022. “It means a lot to be able to look up there at my name up there from the last tour,” he said. “There are so many people, friends and people that I’ve worked with, that I would’ve never been able to do this without.” Two years ago, he continued, he lost one of those pillars. Friday’s show fell on the same day as the second anniversary of the death of Liam Payne, a loss that time has not made it easier to acknowledge. “I’m sure a lot of you have been through something similar,” Styles said. “I hope you haven’t.”
A frequent assessment of Styles, both among his fans and those who’ve only encountered him at a distance, is that he often talks at length before getting to the point. He recognizes it himself on the Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally song “Coming Up Roses,” where he sings about fumbling his words. But recently, comments about his long-winded way of speaking have started to feel like purposeful misreadings. There are clear and carefully considered thoughts present between his starts and stops. Anyone truly listening will pick up on those threads.
Styles cut himself off a few times during his speech on Friday. He tried to talk for a second about looking after each other, and repeated his point about the banner and the people who’ve supported him. He never mentions Payne by name, instead referring to him as a friend, which somehow became a point of criticism from some fans. The context is clear enough. Still, he seems to know it’s a gamble to expect understanding, especially when the conversation grows more complex and personal.
After about a minute and a half, Styles figured it best to show us what he means rather than tell us. “I’m gonna sing a song I wrote two years ago for my friend,” he said before premiering “Wise Enough.” The sullen tribute to Payne settled the room into a cool near-silence, punctured by quiet gasps and muffled crying. It was beautiful, devastating, and deeply exposing to watch Styles share his grief with 20,000 people in the best, and maybe only, way he knows how.
Earlier this year, Styles told Zane Lowe about the acute dread surrounding the expected performance of his mourning. “Full transparency, even the idea of talking about it, I struggle with that a little bit. There was a period when he passed away where I really struggled with acknowledging how strange it is to have people own part of your grief, in a way,” he said. “I have such strong feelings around my friend passing away. And then suddenly being aware there’s maybe a desire from other people of you to convey that in some way, or it means you’re not feeling what you’re feeling.”
Artists often describe the act of sharing new music as a change in ownership, something that is no longer their own once it has been handed over to an audience. “Wise Enough” feels protected from this. It would be confounding to see Styles ever record and release it in any official capacity. The song is openhearted in a way that exposes deep scars, anxious in a way that worries and fidgets about time and how it passes, and inconsolable in a way that doesn’t make the futile attempt to fight through anger, regret, or sadness.
“I can tell you what it’s like to bury friends on Wednesday nights/Gather in a garden around the fire,” Styles sings in a particularly cutting verse on the song, which concludes with an honest admission: “I’m not wise enough to call for a conversation/And then back it up, right?/Like you’re in the sky.”
Celebrity doesn’t obscure grief. It doesn’t come with a script for what to say when someone is sorry for your loss, or when they recollect their own version of the person you knew. No one really has the right words for these moments. Over the weekend, fans debated whether “Wise Enough” is actually titled “What Is Enough?” Styles introduced the record so briskly it was hard to decipher. The question of adequacy feels similarly impossible to answer.
Grief is so plain in how universal it is, but so complex in how and when it chooses to present itself. It can be policed only as much as it can be predicted, which is to say barely at all. That Styles let us into his now yearslong search for some semblance of understanding — knowing how his words have been picked apart before for far lesser things — shouldn’t be taken for granted.
Styles never acknowledges that banner at MSG. It’s not for lack of gratitude — he cried when it was unveiled. But the point he has reiterated every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday since the end of August is that the achievement is something that must be shared because he couldn’t have done it alone. He talks about being on stage as if what happens in that room exists far beyond and outside of himself, something that endures even in his absence.
It’s true in a way. There’s muscle memory tied to the music. It’s in the spinning, dizzying way fans dance to “Satellite,” or the way they wildly kick their feet and make the building shake during “Kiwi,” a song he brought back to the set just for New York. It’s just like before, but still so different.
Friday night continued as usual after “Wise Enough.” Styles belted out “Sign of the Times” in the sobering way he always does, then “Aperture” let in a cathartic flood of strobing lights and pulsating beats. The emotional whiplash took physical form as fans consoled one another, holding out their hands to help up friends and strangers who crumbled to the floor at the conclusion of the tribute. Some were crushed by their memories of loving One Direction, and the care they hold in their hearts for Styles. Some were just as wrecked by their own personal losses.
A lot of life and loss can happen in four years, as Styles says each night. For some people who were at MSG on Friday, there are friends present in their memories from the last tour who are missing from the new ones they’re making. The lyric “You dance until you’re tired/No, you don’t, and now you never will/Will you?” surfaces their own devastation completely separate from what inspired Styles to sprawl those words on a page. How do you dance to “Aperture” — the beating heart of this show in its declaration that “we belong together” — after hearing something like that?
You take the hand of the friend or the stranger who pulled you from the ground and use it to lead each other back to the dance floor. When Styles talks about community and stresses the importance of caring for one another each night, he reminds everyone of the fragility of a moment, and urges them to cherish every second they get. To dance wildly and sing loudly and wrap their arms around each other. To hold tight to what’s here right now.
It’s all any of us have, so it has to be enough.