At first glance, Snakes and Ladders looks like a game of luck, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised relationships often feel exactly the same. One moment you’re moving forward together and the next you’re right back where you started. The song explores the difference between responsibility and accountability. We often expect other people to be responsible for our happiness, our healing or our expectations, when in reality they’re only accountable for the choices they make. That distinction becamethe emotional foundation of the song. The board game hence became the perfect metaphor because every relationship comes with highs, setbacks, misunderstandings and moments that force you to grow. You can’t always control the outcome but you can control how you respond to it. That’s what the song is really about.

I wanted the music video to feel like stepping inside an absurd game show where everything looks bright, playful and inviting, but underneath it all there’s something slightly unsettling. The video opens like an old-school television infomercial advertising a breakfast cereal called Snakes and Ladders. As the story unfolds, the cereal becomes a metaphor for the emotional games we sometimes willingly consume in relationships, even when we know they’re unhealthy. Visually, I leaned into bold colours, exaggerated performances and a tongue-in-cheek sense of humour. I love storytelling that makes people smile first and think later, so there are lots of playful details hidden throughout the video that reinforce the song’s central idea.

I’ve always loved music that feels rhythmically alive and Latin pop naturally carries that sense of movement. It felt like the perfect contrast for a song that’s actually talking about emotional tension and complicated relationship dynamics. Rather than borrowing the genre at face value, I wanted to make it feel like my own. My writing has always been very narrative-driven, so the production was built to serve the story rather than overpower it. The groove gives the song its energy, while the lyrics carry the emotional weight underneath. That’s generally how I approach music. I don’t start with a genre. I start with an emotion and then build the sound around what that emotion needs.

Every release I’ve put out has lived in its own world, both sonically and visually, but Snakes and Ladders feels like the point where everything I’ve been lear ning finally came together. It pushed me further as a songwriter, producer, creative director and performer all at once. I wasn’t just making a song anymore; I was building an entire universe around it. From the music and visuals to the promotional campaign and interactive experiences — every element was designed to serve the same story. Genres evolve because emotions evolve. Snakes and Ladders feels like the clearest expression of that philosophy so far.