A player for artists at the beginning.
Rytmify is a native iPhone music player connected to the Audius libraries. It is not a social feed. It is not a warehouse of famous catalogs. You listen. The artist keeps the name on the song.
Home is the first room: nine doors — Shuffle, Radio, Offline, For You, Meditation, Classical, the station you left, Favorites, Trending. Tap one. The night begins.
Navigate the genres. Choose the piece that stops you.
The catalog is already moving. Electronic, Hip-Hop, Lo-Fi, Pop. Each row is a current. You scroll, you see artwork, you tap. Playback begins in that same world. You do not hunt through menus.
Further down the same river.
Funk, Reggae, Punk — then Rock, R&B, Jazz, Metal, Ambient, Latin, Folk, Classical, House, Techno, Trap, Alternative, Acoustic, Blues, Country, World, Soundtrack, Experimental. Twenty-five genres, one scroll. The bar at the bottom never lets go.
When the night wants only a string.
Meditation. Piano, Violin, Cello, Double Bass, Saxophone. Instrumental rooms for work, for sleep, for the hour with no words. What you played last, and what you loved, wait underneath.
The air of a place, live.
Radio is a second player for the whole map — not a playlist wearing a tower as a costume. A field for country: three letters are enough. The app begins to recognise the name; stations already narrow to that country.
Below it, a field for city. Type the one you miss, the one you are in, the one you have never seen. Choose a station. Distance does not close the frequency. Heart it, and it waits at the top.
Ask for a name.
Search is for an artist, a title. You type; the Audius library answers. When you find them, you do not leave the list to begin — you play from the row. Add, download, share, and love sit on the same line.
Letters, then the room answers.
Type a little more. The list follows. Radio can keep breathing in the bar below while you look for the next voice. One gesture to hear them. Another to keep them.
My Favorites.
Every heart you have given lives here. The songs you refused to lose. Open Library, stay on My Favorites, tap a row — the night continues from where you left it. The row that is playing glows.
Downloaded, and the playlists you name.
Downloaded is music saved on the phone. A tunnel, a plane, a mountain — anywhere the signal ends. Playback does not ask the network for permission.
My Playlists are collections you name: a morning, a journey, a room you return to. You listen by the hour you are in — not by what an algorithm decided that day.
New on Audius.
Fresh work, still warm, beside what you already kept. Independent artists, in the same tab. No second app. No other door.
You tap. The song begins.
The player opens full screen. The track starts at once, in the quality the stream allows — clear, close, meant for headphones and for a quiet room. Artwork, title, artist.
If the piece holds you, you can love it, or place it in a playlist so it will be there again. You can download it to the phone, for the hours without a tower.
Share, then let the night close.
Share does not copy the file. It sends the artist’s page on Audius — the title, the name, the original link — so the person you send it to arrives at the work. The credit stays with the musician.
From the same screen, a sleep timer. The music fades when you ask it to. You do not have to stay awake to be kind to the song.