KiDi has spent years stacking wins, but the question that kept nagging at him was not how to get more, it was what to do once you already have it.
That restlessness became the engine behind “Where Do We Go From Here,” his third album, a 15-track project built around the kind of uncertainty most artists are too proud to admit they feel.
Speaking to Apple Music’s Africa Now Radio, the Ghanaian singer was refreshingly direct about the trap he had fallen into. “I used to be that person that I’m always like, okay, so if I achieve this thing, then I’ll be happy,” he said. “Then I’ll get it and then I’m like, is that it? Then I want more, it never stops.”
The album opens with “Crazy World,” a song KiDi describes as a meditation on gratitude for the simple act of leaving the house and coming back.
It sounds almost too small a concept for an album opener, but that restraint is kind of the point. The whole project is about slowing down enough to notice what is already there.
Across the 15 tracks, KiDi moves between heartbreak, ambition, fatherhood, and the anxiety of arbitrary timelines. “Lord Knows” speaks directly to millennials and Gen Zs who grew up with rigid life plans and are now quietly renegotiating them. Lord knows I’m trying,” he sings, pushing back against the idea that dreams have expiry dates.
Not every song is that earnest. “Babylon” flips the classic heartbreak formula entirely, framing a breakup not as devastation but as liberation.
“Usually, when a girl leaves you, she expects you to crumble,” KiDi explained. This song is basically saying, you left, it’s fine, I’m still thriving.” It is a small but telling detail about where he is mentally right now.
The collaborations on the album carry their own weight too. Linking up with Sarkodie on “IDK” clearly meant something personal to KiDi, who has been listening to the rapper since high school.
He described the track as a return to yearning music, the kind of vulnerability that gets crowded out when artists feel pressure to keep things cool and detached. “It’s nice to have the yearning, crying in the rain, begging for your girl and being vulnerable,” he said, and he seemed genuinely relieved to be saying it.
Then there is “Signature” with Lasmid, which hides its actual subject, hickeys, behind a metaphor about ownership and presence.
KiDi said he did not want to be too on the nose about it, so he reframed the whole thing as leaving a mark on someone’s life. It is a small creative choice, but it says something about how carefully this album was constructed.
Narrowing 15 songs from a larger pool was, by his own admission, brutal. “I’m not going to wish that process on my worst enemy,” he said, adding that the spirit of the album, letting go and trusting the process, was something he had to actually live through to make the record work.
Fatherhood keeps surfacing throughout the conversation as a secondary engine driving the whole thing. KiDi talked about his children as an “extra battery” that keeps him moving on the days when passion alone is not enough.
He is careful not to romanticize it, acknowledging there is no manual and that he is very much learning as he goes.
The paper plane is the album’s central image, something thrown into the air that goes exactly where the wind takes it.
KiDi clearly finds comfort in that metaphor, in the idea that uncertainty is not something to be solved but something to move with. The album does not answer the question in its title, and that feels entirely deliberate.
