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	Current EURO200
	New entries in the EURO200                                       Review for week 36 - 2025
	Perrie Edwards, known to most as one of the powerhouse vocalists from the British girl group Little Mix, steps into her solo career with “If He Wanted To He Would,” debuting at position 120 in the Euro 200. Born in 1993 in South Shields, England, Perrie has spent over a decade in the spotlight, evolving from pop starlet to confident performer. This track marks a significant moment for her—not just musically, but personally. It’s a declaration of independence, wrapped in shimmering pop production and delivered with a voice that’s both vulnerable and fierce. The song itself is a mid-tempo anthem that speaks directly to anyone who’s ever waited too long for someone to show up, step up, or speak up. The title says it all: if he wanted to, he would. It’s not bitter—it’s wise. Perrie’s delivery is calm but resolute, as if she’s finally closed a chapter and is ready to write her own. The production leans into modern pop sensibilities, with subtle synths and a clean beat that lets her vocals shine. There’s no overproduction here, no vocal gymnastics—just clarity and conviction. What makes this debut compelling is how it balances familiarity with freshness. Fans of Little Mix will recognize the emotional honesty and melodic strength, but there’s a new tone here: more grounded, more adult. Perrie isn’t trying to prove anything; she’s simply stating the truth. And that makes it powerful. Landing at #120, the track hasn’t exploded onto the scene—but it’s planted a flag. It’s the kind of song that grows quietly, finding its way into playlists and hearts. For Perrie, this isn’t just a single—it’s a signal. She’s not just stepping out of the group’s shadow; she’s casting her own.
	At position 133 in the Euro 200, Eros Ramazzotti returns with “Il Mio Giorno Preferito,” a song that feels like a warm embrace from an old friend. Born in Rome in 1963, Eros has been a defining voice in Italian pop music since the 1980s. His career spans decades, with hits that have crossed borders and languages, often blending romanticism with a sense of introspection. Now in his early sixties, he continues to release music that speaks to the heart, and this new track is no exception. “Il Mio Giorno Preferito” translates to “My Favorite Day,” and the song carries that sentiment with gentle optimism. It’s not about grand declarations or dramatic emotions—it’s about appreciating the small, beautiful moments that make life meaningful. The arrangement is classic Ramazzotti: soft acoustic guitar, subtle strings, and his unmistakable voice, slightly weathered but still rich with emotion. There’s a sense of calm in the way he sings, as if he’s reflecting on a life well-lived, finding joy in simplicity. What makes this track stand out is its sincerity. Eros doesn’t chase trends; he stays true to his style, and that authenticity resonates. The lyrics speak of love, memory, and gratitude, themes he’s explored throughout his career, but here they feel more grounded. It’s as if he’s writing not just for fans, but for himself—for the quiet mornings, the shared smiles, the moments that don’t make headlines but shape our lives. Landing at #133, the song isn’t a chart-topper, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a gentle reminder that music can still be tender, thoughtful, and timeless. Eros Ramazzotti may not be reinventing himself, but he’s reaffirming what he’s always done best: singing from the soul.
	Benno! makes his debut at position 137 in the Euro 200 with “Tanlines,” a track that feels like it wandered in from a sun-bleached postcard. There’s something instantly nostalgic about it—like the memory of a summer that never quite happened, but you wish it had. Benno! is a relatively unknown name in the broader European music scene, and that anonymity adds a certain charm. There’s no big label push, no viral campaign—just a song that quietly demands attention through its mood alone. “Tanlines” opens with jangly guitars and a rhythm that rolls in like a lazy wave. It’s indie-pop at its most relaxed, with a lo-fi polish that makes it feel intimate rather than underproduced. The vocals are soft, almost conversational, as if Benno! is singing from the passenger seat of a car with the windows down. The lyrics aren’t trying to be profound—they’re fragments of moments: skin warmed by the sun, glances exchanged, the bittersweet ache of something ending before it really began. It’s not a heartbreak song, but it’s not carefree either. It lives in the in-between. What makes “Tanlines” stand out is its restraint. It doesn’t build to a dramatic chorus or throw in unexpected twists. It stays in its lane, and that lane is golden hour. There’s a confidence in that simplicity. Benno! seems to understand that not every song needs to shout to be heard. Sometimes, a whisper is enough. At #137, the track sits in the lower half of the chart, but it feels like the kind of song that could quietly climb—not because it’s trendy, but because it’s timeless. If Benno! continues in this vein, he might just carve out a space for himself as a purveyor of understated beauty. “Tanlines” is a promising start.
	Soolking’s “Tour du Monde,” debuting at #147 in the Euro 200, doesn’t ask for permission—it just starts moving. The title means “World Tour,” and that’s exactly what it sounds like: a sonic passport stamped with rhythms from North Africa, verses in French, and a pulse that could belong to any dancefloor from Marseille to Casablanca. Born in Algeria in 1989, Soolking has made a career out of blending raï, trap, and pop into something unmistakably his. He’s not just a rapper—he’s a cultural bridge. This time, he brings L2B along for the ride, a younger voice that adds bounce and contrast. The track opens with a beat that feels like it’s already in motion—no slow build, no hesitation. Percussion hits like footsteps on foreign soil, and the melody dances between continents. Soolking’s flow is smooth, almost conversational, but there’s urgency in it. He’s not just talking about travel—he’s talking about escape, ambition, and the hunger to be more than your postcode. L2B’s verse is lighter, cheekier. It’s the kind of feature that doesn’t compete—it complements. Together, they create a dynamic that feels like two friends racing through cities, chasing dreams, laughing at setbacks. There’s no bitterness here, just movement. The chorus isn’t a shout—it’s a chant, something you could hear echoing in a crowd or murmured under breath while packing a suitcase. Landing at #147, “Tour du Monde” isn’t crashing into the charts—it’s gliding in. But don’t mistake subtlety for weakness. This track has legs. It’s the kind of song that doesn’t peak immediately—it travels. And like any good journey, it leaves something behind: a rhythm in your chest, a phrase stuck in your head, and the feeling that maybe you should go somewhere new.
	Mata and Żabson didn’t come to whisper. Their track “Palma de Mallorca,” debuting at #162 in the Euro 200, kicks the door open with the kind of swagger you only get from artists who know exactly who they are. It’s not a song—it’s a statement. And it doesn’t care if you’re ready. Mata, born in Warsaw in 2000, has become a cultural lightning rod in Poland. He’s sharp, ironic, and unafraid to poke at the system. Żabson, a few years older, brings the streetwise charisma and a flow that slides like warm asphalt. Together, they’re not just rapping—they’re riffing off each other like two kids who skipped school and found a beat in the back of a bus. “Palma de Mallorca” isn’t about the island. It’s about what the island represents: freedom, excess, escape. The lyrics are full of cheeky references—designer brands, late nights, and the kind of bravado that only works when it’s backed by talent. But beneath the surface, there’s a wink. They know it’s ridiculous. That’s the point. The production is sun-soaked and synthetic, like a postcard dipped in autotune. It’s got bounce, but it’s not trying to be deep. It’s trying to be fun. And it is. The chorus loops like a chant you’d hear shouted from a convertible, half in jest, half in triumph. At #162, it’s not dominating the chart—but it’s not supposed to. This track is a flex, a vibe, a mood. It’s the kind of song that lives best in motion: on scooters, in clubs, through headphones on a train to nowhere. Mata and Żabson aren’t asking for approval. They’re already gone, sunglasses on, middle fingers up, chasing the next beat.
	Apache 207’s “Wolken,” debuting at #186 in the Euro 200, doesn’t arrive with fireworks—it drifts in like its title suggests: quiet, heavy, and full of atmosphere. Apache, born Volkan Yaman in Ludwigshafen, Germany, in 1997, has carved out a unique space in the German music scene. He’s not your typical rapper. He blends genres—pop, trap, even a touch of synthwave—and wraps it all in a voice that sounds like it’s been through something. “Wolken” means “clouds,” and the track feels like a slow float through a grey sky. There’s no rush in the beat. It pulses gently, like a heartbeat trying to stay calm. Apache’s vocals are low, almost mumbled at times, but every word lands with weight. He’s not shouting—he’s reflecting. The lyrics speak of pressure, dreams, and the fog that sometimes settles over ambition. It’s not a song about winning. It’s a song about wondering if the win is worth it. What’s striking is the production. It’s sparse but textured. Synths hum like distant traffic. The bass is soft but persistent. There’s space in the mix—room to breathe, room to think. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t demand attention but earns it slowly. You don’t dance to “Wolken.” You sit with it. Apache 207 has always had a cinematic quality to his music, and this track continues that trend. It feels like a scene from a film—maybe the part where the protagonist stares out the window, unsure of what comes next. At #186, it’s not a chart banger, but it’s not trying to be. It’s a mood, a moment, a message. And for those who catch it, it might just be exactly what they needed to hear.
	Somewhere in a smoky club in Bucharest, the lights flicker gold and red, and Tzanca Uraganu’s voice cuts through the noise like a blade dipped in glitter. “Tu Blondina Eu Brunet,” debuting at #194 in the Euro 200, isn’t just a song — it’s a performance, a spectacle, a wink across the dancefloor. Tzanca, born in Romania in 1989, is a manele icon, known for his flamboyant style, high-energy delivery, and a flair for turning everyday drama into musical fireworks. This track doesn’t waste time. It bursts open with synths that shimmer like sequins and a beat that stomps with unapologetic confidence. The lyrics? A playful back-and-forth about opposites attracting — the blond girl, the dark-haired guy — but it’s not really about hair color. It’s about chemistry, contradiction, and the thrill of chasing someone who’s nothing like you. Tzanca doesn’t sing so much as he declares, his voice full of swagger and theatrical charm. There’s no subtlety here, and that’s the point. The production is loud, layered, and proudly over-the-top. Accordion riffs swirl around auto-tuned vocals, and the rhythm practically dares you not to dance. It’s the kind of song that thrives in chaos — weddings, street parties, late-night drives with the windows down. At #194, it’s not storming the top of the chart, but it doesn’t need to. “Tu Blondina Eu Brunet” is a celebration of excess, of joy without restraint. Tzanca isn’t trying to fit in with global pop trends — he’s building his own universe, one glittery track at a time. And if you’re lucky enough to stumble into it, you’ll probably end up dancing whether you planned to or not.
	Renat Abushev’s “Ne, Letiv By Ale-Mushu,” debuting at #195 in the Euro 200, feels like a song that wandered in from a dream you can’t quite remember. There’s something elusive about it — not just in the title, which translates loosely to “No, I Would Fly Like Ale-Mushu,” but in the way it moves. Renat, a relatively unknown artist from Eastern Europe, doesn’t come with a Wikipedia page or a press kit. He arrives with a whisper, not a shout. The track opens with ambient textures that sound like wind brushing against glass. There’s no rush, no urgency. Renat’s voice enters slowly, almost hesitantly, as if he’s unsure whether to speak at all. But when he does, it’s soft and deliberate, each syllable hanging in the air like mist. The lyrics are poetic, abstract — fragments of longing, memory, and maybe regret. It’s not clear who Ale-Mushu is, or what flying means in this context, but that ambiguity is part of the magic. You’re not supposed to understand — you’re supposed to feel. Musically, the song leans into minimalism. A few piano notes, a distant beat, maybe a synth that sounds like it’s underwater. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t fill the room — it creates space within it. You don’t dance to it, you drift. It’s perfect for late nights, headphones, and introspection. At #195, it’s barely on the chart, but that feels fitting. “Ne, Letiv By Ale-Mushu” isn’t trying to be popular. It’s trying to be personal. Renat Abushev might not be a household name, but with this track, he’s carved out a quiet corner in the chaos — a place where silence speaks louder than sound.
	“Najlepsza W Tym Klubie” bursts into the Euro 200 at position 199 like a drink spilled on the dancefloor — messy, loud, and impossible to ignore. This isn’t a solo act. It’s a full-blown Polish posse cut featuring Gombao 33, Mata, Wyguś, Tadeo, and Szczepan, each bringing their own flavor to the chaos. The title means “The Best in This Club,” and the track lives up to it with the kind of energy that doesn’t ask for permission — it just takes over. There’s no slow build here. The beat drops immediately, heavy and relentless, like basslines bouncing off concrete walls. It’s club music, but not polished. It’s raw, sweaty, and proud of it. Mata, already a household name in Poland thanks to his sharp wit and cultural commentary, anchors the track with a verse that’s both cocky and clever. The others follow suit, each delivering bars that feel like they were written in the back of a cab on the way to the party. What makes this track stand out isn’t just the sound — it’s the attitude. There’s a sense of camaraderie, of five artists hyping each other up, daring the listener to keep up. The lyrics are full of flexes, inside jokes, and references that might fly over your head if you’re not plugged into the scene. But that’s part of the charm. It’s not trying to be universal. It’s trying to be real. At #199, it’s near the bottom of the chart, but it doesn’t feel like a quiet debut. It feels like the start of something loud. “Najlepsza W Tym Klubie” isn’t just a song — it’s a moment. And if you’re not dancing by the second verse, you’re probably not in the right club.
	At position 200 in the Euro 200 chart, V $ X V Prince and Bollo arrive with “Pusto,” a track that doesn’t knock — it slips in through the cracks. The title means “Empty” in several Slavic languages, and the song wears that meaning like a second skin. There’s no glitter here, no bravado. Just shadows, echoes, and a voice that sounds like it’s been talking to itself for too long. Imagine a dim room lit by a flickering screen. The beat is slow, almost hesitant, like footsteps down a hallway you’re not sure you should be walking. V $ X V Prince delivers his lines with a kind of numb clarity — not cold, but distant. Bollo follows, his voice lower, rougher, like gravel under rain. They don’t trade verses so much as they share silence between them. The lyrics are sparse, fragmented. You get pieces: a memory, a regret, a name that’s no longer spoken. It’s not storytelling — it’s confession. The production leans into minimalism. A few synths stretch like fog, a bassline hums like a broken neon sign, and there’s space — so much space. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t fill the room, it empties it. You don’t listen to “Pusto” with others. You listen to it alone, maybe at 3 a.m., maybe while staring at a ceiling you’ve memorized. At #200, it’s the last entry on the chart, but it feels like it belongs there — not because it’s weak, but because it’s quiet. “Pusto” isn’t trying to climb. It’s trying to linger. V $ X V Prince and Bollo aren’t chasing hits. They’re chasing ghosts. And in doing so, they’ve made a song that doesn’t ask to be heard — it waits to be found.
	Look at last week's reviews here
	"The Hitmaster: mastering the rhythm of chart-topping hits."