Parce que

Locko operates in a zone where Cameroonian Afropop meets contemporary R&B smoothness, and this track exemplifies that synthesis at its most refined. The production opens with a delicate guitar figure — acoustic-adjacent but processed through a warm digital glow — before a confident mid-tempo groove takes hold underneath. There's real restraint in how the beat is constructed: space is used deliberately, and the arrangement never crowds Locko's voice, which is its centerpiece and justification. His vocal delivery is particularly expressive here — a tenor with a honeyed upper register that can shift from conversational to soaring within a single phrase. The song is built around the simplest and most durable of lyric architectures: because. Because I feel this. Because you are this. Because it cannot be helped. The repetition of that structural word functions as both explanation and surrender. Emotionally, the track moves between certainty and vulnerability, the narrator absolutely sure of his feeling and completely undone by it simultaneously. This is late-evening music, the kind you put on when the guests have left and you're alone with someone or alone with a memory, the city quiet outside the window.