“Radio Head” was a Talking Heads song in 1986, a few years before a group of Oxford students borrowed it for a band name. Cafe takes the phrase back to its plainest meaning: a kid whose head sits right next to a radio. Growing up in the 90s, when radio still ran a teenager’s life, Cafe skated around town with a huge silver boombox balanced on one shoulder, volume all the way up, playing DJ for the whole street.

That kid grew into a Canadian musician who spent most of two decades surfing Hawaii’s North Shore and now writes, produces, engineers and mixes every Cafe track alone. Guitar was the first love, but chill house is where the songs live, and “Radio Head” settles into the genre’s steady four-on-the-floor pulse with a warm, unhurried glow. It moves the body at a sunrise pace, the tempo of a long skate home with nowhere urgent to be.

Cafe last turned up here with “What if Sunday doesn’t call?”, a track carrying more regret. “Radio Head” is the brighter sibling, built for good moods and open windows, and its single-minded easygoing feel suits a song about a memory with no complications attached.

The boombox kid broadcast other people’s songs to anyone within earshot. Decades later, Cafe makes tracks built for exactly that job, and “Radio Head” deserves to be the one blasting from somebody’s shoulder next summer.