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	Current EURO200
	New entries in the EURO200                                       Review for week 33 - 2025
	Chappell Roan lands at #29 on the Euro 200 this week with “The Subway,” marking another strong entry in her growing European chart presence. Roan, born Kayleigh Rose Amstutz in Missouri, has already made waves with previous hits like “Pink Pony Club,” which currently sits at #51 and has spent over 30 weeks on the chart. Known for her theatrical style, queer identity, and emotionally rich songwriting, Roan is quickly becoming a staple in the alt-pop landscape. “The Subway” is a synth-driven ballad that captures the aching beauty of missed connections. The song opens with a moody, atmospheric soundscape that evokes the sterile hum of underground stations. Roan’s voice enters with a whisper, gradually building into a soaring chorus that feels both cinematic and deeply personal. The lyrics describe a fleeting moment — locking eyes with a stranger on public transport — and the emotional spiral that follows. It’s not just about longing; it’s about the stories we invent in silence, the emotional weight of what never was. Roan’s vocal performance is a standout. She moves effortlessly between vulnerability and power, her voice trembling in the verses and exploding in the chorus. The production is sleek but never sterile, with layered synths and echoing percussion that mimic the rhythm of a train in motion. There’s a theatricality to the arrangement, but it’s grounded in genuine emotion. At #29, “The Subway” is Roan’s highest debut this week, and it reinforces her growing popularity across Europe. She’s no longer just a cult favorite — she’s becoming a chart regular. With her unique blend of glam, grit, and heart, Chappell Roan is clearly here to stay.
	Debuting at #99 on the Euro 200, “Parisienne” is a collaboration between French-Congolese superstar Maître Gims and rising urban artist La Mano 1.9. Gims, a founding member of Sexion d’Assaut, has long been a dominant force in Francophone music, known for blending rap, pop, and Afrobeat into chart-topping hits across Europe. His voice — instantly recognizable, deep and melodic — has become a fixture in the European charts over the past decade. La Mano 1.9, meanwhile, is part of the new wave of French urban artists bringing gritty realism and street poetry to the mainstream. “Parisienne” is a love letter and a lament, wrapped in a sleek urban production that mixes trap beats with melodic hooks. The track paints a portrait of a woman who embodies the contradictions of Paris itself — elegant yet elusive, romantic yet ruthless. Gims delivers his verses with his signature vocal gravitas, while La Mano 1.9 adds a raw edge, grounding the song in the realities of modern city life. The chorus is catchy but melancholic, with a melodic line that lingers long after the track ends. Lyrically, the song plays with duality — the Parisienne as muse and mirage, as symbol and siren. There’s a subtle commentary on fame, desire, and the emotional cost of chasing illusions. The production is polished but not sterile, with atmospheric synths and a bassline that gives the track a nocturnal feel. It’s the kind of song that feels best played after midnight, cruising through city streets with the windows down. At #99, “Parisienne” enters the chart modestly, but with the pedigree of Gims and the rising profile of La Mano 1.9, it wouldn’t be surprising to see it climb steadily. It’s a track that blends style with substance — much like the city it’s named after.
	Jul enters the Euro 200 at #102 this week with “Toi et Moi,” a smooth, melodic rap track that showcases his signature blend of street realism and pop accessibility. Born Julien Mari in Marseille, Jul is one of the most prolific and commercially successful artists in French music history. Known for releasing multiple albums per year and maintaining a fiercely loyal fanbase, he’s a chart veteran whose influence stretches far beyond France’s borders. “Toi et Moi” (“You and Me”) is a mid-tempo track that leans into Jul’s softer side. The production is built around a mellow beat, with airy synths and a laid-back rhythm that gives the song a reflective, almost nostalgic tone. Jul’s delivery is understated but emotionally resonant, as he raps about a complicated relationship marked by distance, misunderstanding, and longing. There’s no bravado here — just vulnerability and a desire to reconnect. Lyrically, the song avoids clichés and instead focuses on the small details that define intimacy: shared memories, quiet regrets, and the hope for reconciliation. Jul’s voice, slightly autotuned but never robotic, adds a layer of melancholy that fits the mood perfectly. The chorus is simple but effective, repeating the titular phrase like a mantra, underscoring the emotional core of the track. At #102, “Toi et Moi” makes a modest debut, but Jul’s history on the charts suggests it could climb steadily. His ability to release music that resonates with both mainstream audiences and underground fans is unmatched in the French rap scene. This track may not be a club banger, but it’s a slow burner — the kind of song that gains traction through word of mouth and repeat listens. Jul continues to prove that emotional depth and commercial success aren’t mutually exclusive. With “Toi et Moi,” he adds another layer to his already expansive catalogue.
	There’s nothing subtle about “Kriminal,” and that’s exactly the point. Debuting at #106 on the Euro 200, this explosive collaboration between Italy’s Baby Gang and Dominican heavyweights El Alfa and Omega is a sonic collision of drill, dembow, and pure swagger. Baby Gang, known for his gritty street narratives and legal controversies, brings the raw edge of Milan’s underground rap scene. El Alfa, the self-proclaimed “King of Dembow,” adds his signature rapid-fire delivery, while Omega — a veteran of Dominican merengue urbano — injects rhythmic flair and vocal charisma. “Kriminal” doesn’t waste time. From the first beat, it’s a barrage of bass, sirens, and aggressive flows. The production is dense and chaotic, with trap drums layered over dembow rhythms, creating a hybrid that feels both global and hyper-local. It’s the kind of track that demands movement — whether in a club, a car, or a protest march. The energy is relentless, and the chemistry between the three artists is electric. Lyrically, the song plays with themes of notoriety, survival, and defiance. Baby Gang’s verses are confrontational and unapologetic, referencing his own criminal record and media portrayal. El Alfa brings the bravado, rapping with machine-gun cadence, while Omega’s melodic interjections offer brief moments of relief before the next wave hits. It’s not a song that asks for approval — it dares you to keep up. At #106, “Kriminal” enters the chart with a bang, and while it may not be radio-friendly, it’s undeniably impactful. This is pan-Latin street music at its most unfiltered, and its presence on the Euro 200 signals a growing appetite for genre-blending, border-crossing bangers. “Kriminal” isn’t just a song — it’s a statement.
	At #118 this week, “Maneskin” enters the Euro 200 with a title that immediately raises eyebrows — not because it’s a cover, but because it’s a tribute, a reference, or perhaps a provocation. The track is a collaboration between Sadturs, an enigmatic producer known for moody trap beats and cryptic visuals, and three prominent names from the Italian urban scene: Kiid, Ghali, and Shiva. Each artist brings their own flavor to the mix, resulting in a track that’s as layered as it is unpredictable. “Maneskin” opens with a dark, atmospheric beat — sparse hi-hats, a brooding bassline, and ambient textures that feel like fog rolling over Milan at 3 a.m. Kiid sets the tone with a verse that’s introspective and slightly surreal, referencing fame, alienation, and the weight of expectations. Ghali, who’s long been a bridge between Italian rap and global pop, adds a melodic hook that’s both catchy and melancholic. Shiva, known for his sharp delivery and streetwise lyricism, closes the track with a verse that grounds the song in gritty realism. Despite the title, this isn’t a glam-rock anthem — it’s a meditation on identity, performance, and the cost of visibility. The lyrics hint at the pressures of being seen, of living up to a name, and of carving out space in a crowded cultural landscape. Whether the title is a nod to the band Måneskin or a metaphor for artistic duality, it adds a layer of intrigue that invites interpretation. Debuting at #118, “Maneskin” is unlikely to storm the top 10 immediately, but it’s the kind of track that builds slowly — through word of mouth, playlist placements, and late-night listens. It’s not loud, but it lingers. And in a chart full of instant gratification, that’s a quiet triumph.
	There’s something hypnotic about “Antalya,” the new entry at #135 on the Euro 200 this week. It’s not just the beat — though that helps — it’s the mood. Amo and Ché Salah, two emerging voices from the French and North African diasporic scenes, have crafted a track that feels like a mirage: sun-drenched, slightly surreal, and emotionally elusive. Amo has been quietly building a reputation for introspective rap with melodic leanings, often weaving personal narratives into atmospheric productions. Ché Salah, meanwhile, brings a more experimental edge, blending spoken word, trap, and Maghrebi influences into something that defies easy categorization. Together, they’ve created a song that doesn’t shout for attention — it drifts in like heatwaves off the Mediterranean. “Antalya” is named after the Turkish coastal city, but it’s not a tourist anthem. It’s more like a dream of escape, a place imagined rather than visited. The production is minimal but immersive: soft synth pads, a slow-burning beat, and vocal layering that feels like memory rather than dialogue. The lyrics hint at longing, displacement, and the desire to disappear — not in defeat, but in reinvention. There’s a subtle tension throughout the track. Amo’s verses are delivered with quiet urgency, while Ché Salah’s contributions feel like fragments of thought, half-sung and half-spoken. It’s a song that resists structure, and that’s part of its charm. You don’t follow it — you float with it. At #135, “Antalya” enters the Euro 200 without fanfare, but it’s the kind of track that could quietly build momentum. It’s not designed for the club or the radio — it’s for headphones, for twilight walks, for moments when you want to be somewhere else. And in that sense, it’s already arrived.
	“12 to 12” is not a song you stumble upon — it’s one that finds you when the lights are low and the silence starts to hum. Debuting at #136 on the Euro 200 this week, it’s the latest release from Sombr, the 20-year-old American singer-songwriter born Shane Michael Boose. Raised on the Lower East Side of Manhattan and now based in Los Angeles, Sombr has quickly become one of Gen Z’s most intriguing voices in alt-pop, known for his emotionally charged lyrics and minimalist production style. Unlike his breakout hits “Back to Friends” and “Undressed,” which leaned into melodic hooks and viral appeal, “12 to 12” is more subdued — almost meditative. The track unfolds slowly, like a fog creeping in. A sparse beat, ambient textures, and Sombr’s breathy vocals create a soundscape that feels suspended in time. It’s not about climax or resolution; it’s about the in-between, the hours that stretch and blur when you’re emotionally adrift. Lyrically, “12 to 12” is elliptical and introspective. Sombr doesn’t tell a story so much as he sketches a mood: isolation, repetition, and the quiet ache of routine. Lines like “I watch the clock but it never watches back” capture the emotional stasis of someone caught in their own loop. There’s a poetic stillness to the track, and it rewards close listening. At #136, “12 to 12” enters the Euro 200 modestly, but Sombr’s momentum is undeniable. With two other tracks already in the top 20, his presence on the chart is growing — and this quieter entry adds depth to his catalogue. “12 to 12” isn’t trying to be a hit. It’s trying to be honest. And in Sombr’s world, that’s more than enough.
	There’s a certain gravity to “Uçurum” — fitting, since the title translates to “cliff” in Turkish. Debuting at #143 on the Euro 200, this new track from Mero is a return to form for the German-Turkish rapper, whose rise to fame was meteoric back in 2019 with hits like “Baller los” and “Olabilir.” Born Enes Meral in Rüsselsheim, Germany, Mero has built a career on emotionally charged lyrics, rapid-fire flows, and a deep connection to his cultural roots. “Uçurum” doesn’t reinvent his sound — it refines it. The track opens with a melancholic piano loop, soon joined by a trap beat that’s crisp but restrained. Mero’s voice enters low and steady, more reflective than aggressive. He’s not flexing here — he’s confessing. The lyrics speak of emotional distance, inner conflict, and the feeling of standing on the edge of something irreversible. There’s a vulnerability in his delivery that feels earned, not performed. What makes “Uçurum” compelling is its balance. The production is polished but never overbearing, allowing Mero’s voice to carry the emotional weight. The chorus is simple, almost chant-like, and it sticks. There’s no flashy hook, no guest feature — just Mero, alone with his thoughts, staring into the void. At #143, “Uçurum” enters the Euro 200 quietly, but it’s the kind of track that resonates deeply with fans who’ve followed his journey. It’s introspective without being indulgent, melodic without being soft. In a chart filled with maximalist pop and viral bangers, “Uçurum” is a reminder that sometimes the most powerful songs are the ones that whisper, not shout.
	“Viano” rolls into the Euro 200 at #148 this week, and it doesn’t arrive quietly. RK, the French rapper known for his sharp delivery and streetwise lyricism, teams up with Genezio, a rising name in the drill and trap scene, to deliver a track that’s equal parts flex and reflection. RK has been a fixture in the French rap landscape since his breakout mixtape Rêves de gosse, and while he’s no stranger to chart success, “Viano” feels like a recalibration — leaner, darker, and more focused. The title “Viano” refers to the Mercedes-Benz van often associated with artists, athletes, and street culture — a symbol of mobility, status, and escape. But the song isn’t just about the ride; it’s about what’s happening inside it. The beat is cold and minimal, built around a haunting piano loop and a trap rhythm that hits hard without overwhelming. RK opens with a verse that’s all about movement — not just through the city, but through life, through trauma, through ambition. Genezio follows with a more melodic flow, adding contrast and texture to the track. There’s a cinematic quality to “Viano.” You can almost see the rain on the windshield, the city lights blurring past, the tension in the silence between verses. The lyrics touch on loyalty, paranoia, and the cost of success — themes that resonate deeply in the current French rap narrative. It’s not flashy, but it’s potent. At #148, “Viano” enters the Euro 200 with quiet confidence. It’s not trying to be a summer anthem — it’s a night-drive track, built for introspection and low-volume intensity. RK and Genezio don’t reinvent the genre here, but they refine it. And in doing so, they’ve delivered a track that feels both familiar and fresh.
	Huntr/X isn’t just a pop group — they’re a phenomenon born from fiction and thriving in reality. Originating from the animated film KPop Demon Hunters, this South Korean trio (Rumi, Mira, and Zoey) has crossed over from screen to chart with surprising force. Their latest entry, “Takedown,” debuts at #154 on the Euro 200, and it’s easily their most confrontational track yet. “Takedown” wastes no time. It opens with a jagged synth line and a percussive pulse that feels like a warning. The production is gritty, industrial, and unapologetically intense — a stark contrast to the polished sheen of their earlier hits like “Golden” (#2) and “How It’s Done” (#17). This isn’t a song designed to please; it’s designed to provoke. Vocals are delivered with clipped urgency, alternating between Korean and English, adding to the track’s cryptic allure. Lyrically, it’s a study in power dynamics and emotional warfare. Lines like “I see the wires behind your smile” and “You blink, I break” suggest a world of hidden agendas and quiet rebellion. It’s cyberpunk pop with teeth. The chorus hits hard — short, sharp, and rhythmically addictive. There’s no soaring melody here, just a rhythmic punch that sticks. The soundscape is dense: glitch effects, distorted bass, and transitions that feel like digital malfunctions. It’s the sonic equivalent of a system crash — chaotic, thrilling, and strangely satisfying. “Takedown” might not be the most radio-friendly entry on the chart, but it’s arguably Huntr/X’s boldest. It proves that even a fictional group can push boundaries and redefine what pop can be. In a chart full of safe bets, “Takedown” is a risk — and it pays off.
	Justin Bieber’s “Yukon” arrives at #159 on the Euro 200 with the quiet intensity of a late-night drive through unfamiliar territory. It’s not a flashy comeback or a chart-hungry anthem — it’s introspective, atmospheric, and surprisingly restrained. For an artist who’s spent much of his career in the spotlight, “Yukon” feels like a moment of solitude. The production is sparse but immersive. A muted beat pulses beneath ambient textures, with hints of trap and R&B woven into the mix. Bieber’s vocals are subdued, almost whispered at times, as if he’s confiding in the listener rather than performing. There’s a sense of distance — not emotional detachment, but geographical isolation. The title “Yukon” evokes vast landscapes, cold air, and a kind of spiritual wandering. Lyrically, the song touches on themes of escape, reflection, and the weight of fame. Lines like “I left my name in the snow” and “I don’t know who I am when the lights go low” suggest a search for identity beyond the public persona. It’s not melodramatic — it’s quietly vulnerable. What makes “Yukon” compelling is its refusal to chase trends. There’s no explosive hook, no TikTok-ready drop. Instead, it leans into mood and texture, trusting the listener to meet it halfway. It’s the kind of track that grows with repeated listens, revealing new layers each time. At #159, “Yukon” may not be storming the charts, but it’s carving out its own space — one that feels personal, reflective, and refreshingly unpolished. For Bieber, it’s less about reinvention and more about revelation.
	“Mann muss” marks Apache 207’s return with a track that’s as ironic as it is introspective. Debuting at #172, the song dives headfirst into the mythology of masculinity — not to glorify it, but to dissect it. With his signature blend of pop-rap and poetic bravado, Apache crafts a track that’s both catchy and culturally sharp. The production leans into 90s nostalgia: punchy drums, melodic guitar riffs, and a pop-rock backbone that feels familiar but fresh. It’s upbeat on the surface, but there’s a satirical undercurrent running through every line. Apache’s delivery is confident, almost theatrical, as he rattles off exaggerated tales of manly exploits — swimming with sharks, fighting bears, winning trophies he gave away. But beneath the bravado lies critique. The chorus — “Mann tut, was Mann muss” (“A man does what a man must”) — is repeated like a mantra, exposing the pressure behind the phrase. The lyrics touch on therapy avoidance, emotional suppression, and inherited ideals passed down from grandfathers. It’s masculinity as performance, and Apache plays the role to perfection — only to unravel it. The music video adds another layer: set in a fictional “Mann-Heim” factory, young men are molded through wood-chopping and weightlifting into “real men.” But the twist at the end — with statistics on male suicide and mental health — flips the narrative. It’s not just satire; it’s a call for reflection. At #172, “Mann muss” may not be a chart-topper yet, but it’s a cultural statement. Apache 207 proves he’s more than a hitmaker — he’s a storyteller with something to say. And with his new album 21 Gramm dropping August 29, this track sets the tone for something deeper.
	ENDSHPILE’s “10 (Desyat)” enters the Euro 200 at #181 like a cryptic broadcast from a parallel dimension. The Russian title “Desyat” (meaning “Ten”) hints at structure, but the song itself is anything but conventional. It’s a sonic collage — part rap, part spoken word, part fever dream — and it demands your full attention. The production is sparse and eerie. A looping synth motif pulses like a distant alarm, while distorted vocal samples flicker in and out like broken transmissions. ENDSHPILE’s delivery is hypnotic — half-whispered, half-chanted — with lyrics that feel like fragments of a manifesto. There’s no clear narrative, but the mood is unmistakable: tense, surreal, and slightly unhinged. Lyrically, “10 (Desyat)” plays with repetition and abstraction. The number ten recurs like a ritual — ten steps, ten rules, ten lives — but the meaning remains elusive. It’s poetry in code, and ENDSHPILE seems more interested in evoking emotion than explaining intent. There’s a sense of urgency throughout, as if the track is counting down to something unknown. What makes the song compelling is its refusal to conform. It doesn’t chase hooks or radio play — it builds a world. The aesthetic is post-Soviet cyberpunk: cold, glitchy, and defiantly underground. It’s the kind of track that would soundtrack a late-night art installation or a dystopian video game. At #181, “10 (Desyat)” might be buried deep in the chart, but it’s a standout for those willing to dig. ENDSHPILE isn’t here to entertain — they’re here to provoke. And in a chart full of polish, that kind of raw experimentation is a welcome jolt.
	“Free” enters the Euro 200 at #187 as a shimmering, cinematic ballad that feels like a breath of fresh air in a chart dominated by heavy beats and dark moods. Brought to life by a quartet of Korean vocalists — RUMI, JINU, EJAE, and Andrew Choi — the track blends K-pop elegance with Western pop sensibility, resulting in something both universal and deeply personal. The production is lush and expansive. A gentle piano intro gives way to sweeping strings and ambient textures, creating a soundscape that feels like sunrise over Seoul. Each vocalist brings a distinct tone: RUMI’s airy delivery, JINU’s soulful depth, EJAE’s emotional clarity, and Andrew Choi’s polished warmth. Together, they form a vocal tapestry that’s rich without being overwhelming. Lyrically, “Free” is about release — from expectations, from heartbreak, from self-doubt. Lines like “I let go of the weight I used to carry” and “Now I breathe without asking permission” speak to a quiet kind of liberation. It’s not a rebellion — it’s a reckoning. What makes the track stand out is its sincerity. There’s no posturing, no overproduction — just emotion, melody, and space. It’s the kind of song that would feel at home in a film soundtrack or a reflective playlist. And while it may not be a club hit, it’s the kind of track that finds its way into hearts. At #187, “Free” is a low-key debut, but it’s a meaningful one. These four artists — each with their own pedigree in the Korean music scene — have come together to create something timeless. And in a chart full of noise, “Free” is a moment of quiet clarity.
	Some songs feel like postcards from a forgotten place. “Afini” is one of them — a delicate, aching memory wrapped in melody, sent from the Carpathian highlands and sealed with longing. Ukrainian singer and actress FIÏNKA, born Iryna Vykhovanets, has made it her mission to revive and celebrate Hutsul culture, and with “Afini,” she doesn’t just sing it — she embodies it. The track opens like a lullaby: soft, earthy, and unhurried. There’s no rush to impress. Instead, FIÏNKA invites you into her world — one of mossy forests, barefoot summers, and the bittersweet taste of wild berries. The word “афини” refers to bilberries, but here it’s more than fruit. It’s a metaphor for love, for innocence, for the kind of joy that’s too pure to last. Her voice — warm, textured, unmistakably regional — carries the song like a breeze through pine trees. She sings in her native dialect, unapologetically local, and that’s what makes it universal. You don’t need to understand every word to feel the weight of it. The chorus — “То є моє вічне літо на твоїх губах” (“That is my eternal summer on your lips”) — lands like poetry. FIÏNKA isn’t new to the spotlight. She’s twice reached the finals of Ukraine’s national Eurovision selection, and she’s known for her comedic YouTube project Lizhnyk TV, where she blends satire with folklore. But “Afini” is no joke. It’s a love song, yes — but also a cultural artifact. A bridge between childhood and adulthood, tradition and reinvention. At #197, “Afini” barely makes a ripple in the Euro 200. But that’s fitting. It’s not a wave — it’s a whisper. And sometimes, the quietest songs leave the deepest mark.
	Look at last week's reviews here
	"The Hitmaster: mastering the rhythm of chart-topping hits."