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Aht, aht, you not finna embarrass me!” Latto jokingly warns her pet shih-poo, Coca. The fluffy little pup — the first of several in her brood, soon, if Latto has her way — is deciding whether to use a grassy area outside a North Hollywood rehearsal studio as the bathroom. Fresh off a delayed flight and clad in a cheetah-print bonnet, matching maroon sweatsuit set and her trademark cheetah-print thong, Latto is living up to her latest alter ego’s name: Big Mama has arrived.
After a two-hour-long, energy-boosting IV drip treatment and a few vitamin C shots directly in her posterior (“It’s OK because I got a lot of cushion back there!”), the Atlanta rap superstar will head straight into hours of rehearsal for her upcoming performances at BET Experience Fan Fest on June 29 and the 2024 BET Awards the following evening, where she’s nominated for best female hip-hop artist — an honor she won last year — and best collaboration (“Don’t Play With It,” her Billboard Hot 100 hit with Lola Brooke and Yung Miami).

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The 25-year-old rapper moves through the rehearsal space with a seasoned professional’s composure and a Gen Zer’s sardonic humor. At the BET Awards, she’s set to perform a medley of “Sunday Service,” “Big Mama” and “Shoutout to Me” — the latter two for the first time on TV. All appear on her upcoming album, Sugar Honey Iced Tea, due in August. Today, not a single detail gets past the artist born Alyssa Michelle Stephens — from the volume levels in her in-ears to the drums on her different live mixes to every last hair flip in her high-octane choreography.

“I’m not going to be rolling around on that stage forever. I even told them I don’t want to twerk onstage no more!” Latto says with a laugh. “I said, ‘I’m too grown for that now!’ ” Still, she’s hell-bent on flawlessly presenting her new material. You can almost see the gears turning in her head as she runs through her set, keeping track of her volume, breath control and overall stamina as she transitions from the soul-baring vulnerability of “Shoutout to Me” to the seductive purr of the first half of “Big Mama,” which dropped just days earlier.

Latto may be nearly a decade into her rap career, but she’s still hungry — and better positioned than ever to realize her dream of bringing authentic, female Southern rap to the top of the charts on her own terms. Throughout our time together during her whirlwind weekend in Los Angeles, she keeps returning to three words: “I want more.”

Dolce & Gabbana bodysuit from UmaLu Vintage, The Vault by The Ivy Showroom coat.

Christian Cody

That same hunger helped fuel her crossover into the pop world following the release of her second album, 777, in spring 2022. A month after 777 dropped, its lead single, “Big Energy,” climbed to No. 3 on the Hot 100 and No. 1 on Pop Airplay, bolstered by a remix featuring Mariah Carey and DJ Khaled. Its success — as well as that of follow-up singles “Wheelie” (with 21 Savage) and “Sunshine” (with Lil Wayne and Childish Gambino) — led to a pair of 2023 Grammy Award nominations, including for best new artist. Then, in July 2023, Latto joined forces with BTS’ Jungkook for his single “Seven,” which became the first Hot 100 chart-topper for both artists.

But amid her newfound pop success, Latto has doubled down on her hip-hop bona fides, making culture-shifting records like her ­Cardi B-assisted “Put It on Da Floor Again.” She says it was that track, made with producers Pooh Beatz and Go Grizzly, that “sparked a whole new energy for me as an artist. It just felt Southern.” That new energy inspired Sugar Honey Iced Tea, where she seeks to champion her ATL roots — and, maybe, deliver a Southern hip-hop classic of her own.

Over a leisurely, rich dinner — complete with wagyu and caviar — a few days after the BET Awards, Latto reminisces frequently about her Clayton County upbringing, from American Deli runs to smashing trays of hot honey wings with friends and her younger sister, Brooklyn. And the love between Latto and Atlanta has long been reciprocal: She made history in 2024 as the first female headliner for the WHTA (Hot 107.9) Birthday Bash and unequivocally rocked the city’s State Farm Arena on June 22, bringing out special guests and hometown stars including Usher, 21 Savage and Summer Walker. “I done opened for T.I., 2 Chainz, Young Thug, 21 Savage,” Latto reflects. “These people know my story, and they really respect me.”

Now her city is watching as she eyes a new phase of stardom and aims to reiterate one thing above all else: that Latto is, in fact, the sh-t.

“The whole album is the single. It’s a story — it ain’t just hot records,” RCA Records president Mark Pitts stresses. “I haven’t loved a female rap album since Lil’ Kim. There’s songs I love, but an album? This album, from top to bottom, is that. She put in work and it’s curated.”

Though she’s keeping the album incredibly close to her chest — “Even my DJ, my brother, be like, ‘How you dropping an album and I ain’t heard it?’ ” she jokes — Latto’s confidence in the project is clear. When she speaks about Sugar Honey Iced Tea, her eyes light up, her shoulders roll back and her back straightens. She exudes pride — not quite cockiness, but a deep-seated reverence for how she has been able to translate her past few years of growth into a potentially career-shifting album.

Christian Cody

Latto kicked off 2024 collaborating with a pair of pop icons (Usher and Jennifer Lopez) while also remaining in conversation with her peers, tapping Megan Thee Stallion and Flo Milli for her “Sunday Service” remix — a preview of sorts for Sugar Honey Iced Tea, which will include guest appearances from both “respected” Southern hip-hop OGs (in the words of her manager, Kayla Jackson) and collaborations with peers that Latto arranged herself. That ability to find common ground with both veteran and new-school stars is also a reminder of Latto’s unique position among female rappers right now. The proverbial middle child (as J. Cole once described himself), she became known after winning a reality competition (the first season of Jermaine Dupri’s The Rap Game) but, by her own admission, has more in common with the pre-social media generation of women in hip-hop. She still butts heads with a few of her peers, namely Bronx rapper Ice Spice, with whom she has been trading subliminal shots for the past six months.

With 10 years — and, now, top 40 success — under her belt, Latto is ready to prove she can maintain her pop presence by injecting the mainstream with pure Southern hip-hop. Pitts notes that as RCA (a label historically known as an R&B powerhouse) works to fortify its hip-hop offering, Latto is “one of the leaders,” and he believes Sugar Honey Iced Tea is the album that will “bring [Latto’s] core sound to the pop world and educate them.”

“A true benchmark [of success] would be everyone talking about, ‘She has her Ready To Die,’ ” he continues. “Or comparing it to [any] classic album.”

Sugar Honey Iced Tea also represents a new personal era for Latto. Big Mama just closed on a house in Atlanta, and she has been wading further into acting. (She auditioned for the forthcoming sequel to horror hit Smile but was not cast.) Later this year, she will appear as a judge on season two of Netflix’s rap competition show, Rhythm + Flow, alongside Ludacris and Khaled, a full-circle moment, considering her own reality TV roots. And as her career continues to blossom, she says she’s focusing on meditation and prayer, using both practices to balance the energies of her different alter egos: Latto, the polished public figure; Alyssa, the private A-town girl who enjoys watching Nara Smith’s TikToks; and Big Mama, the boss.

At dinner post-BET Awards weekend, Latto basks in relative relaxation. She’s balancing celebrations — recently splurging on blue light glasses complete with factory diamonds, much to the chagrin of her mother and business manager — with nightly studio sessions wrapping up Sugar Honey Iced Tea.

“On my mama, this day has been a blur,” she confesses, nibbling a mini blini topped with smoked salmon mousse. “We was in the studio the day before yesterday, and I was like, ‘This sh-t fye, but it don’t fit this album.’ I’m already working on the next album. I’m ready to drop this off and keep going. I’m in a whole new bag right now. Promise you.”

Christian Cody

So, who is Latto versus Alyssa? Who is Big Mama?

I’m really trying to be [better with] making them all one person, but I think they’re just very different. Big Mama is probably like my more bossy version of myself. I’m Big Mama when I’m telling [Coca] to sit the f–k down or when I’m on the phone with my business manager like, “I need to bring at least 60% of my motherf–king profit home! I ain’t going on tour for that much money!” That’s when I got my business hat on and I’m making money decisions.

Latto is like the personality — that’s the politician who kisses babies and shakes hands. Alyssa is right now at the dinner table; I be my little quirky self.

Producer 9th Wonder was on X gassing the “Shoutout to Me” part of your BET Awards performance. It’s a very magnetic and vulnerable track. What inspired it?

I had this song that I dropped within the first few months of being signed [to RCA] called “No Hook.” I was very vulnerable on it, so I wanted a song like that on the new album, but a more grown-up version. I got way more to talk about now. I wanted that texture of vulnerability.

What new things do you have to talk about?

Sh-t, from 21 to 25, I feel like I became a woman. Everybody used to tell me, “Oh, when you turn 25, something is going to change in your brain.” I really feel like it did. I’ve had new relationships, I bought my first house, signed deals, fell out with people. Every year that I’ve been in the industry, I feel like I’ve reached more success, so there’s just more sh-t to talk about.

You really are a girl’s girl by nature. How do you balance that with treating rap as a competitive sport?

As a Capricorn, I’m naturally competitive already. I always want to be better and better. I’m competitive not just with other people, but with myself, too. I’m like, “Well, last year, I was streaming this amount, and this year, it’s not doubling?” Growing up with a sister as my only sibling, it’s me, my mom and [her]. That’s my family. I grew up around women. I just like working with women. I think it’s more protective — I feel like as a girl, you have to have girls around that understand. I got men that work for me, and I can’t be like, “Bro, I just started my period.” They don’t understand doing shows on my period or doing a red carpet on my period. There’s so much more emotional elements to a female artist that men can’t understand.

How have you been navigating your new pop stardom?

It’s so weird because that was never a goal of mine coming into this. For a little girl from Clayton County, I never really thought outside of Clayco. I was like, “Damn, OK. K-pop? What?” That sh-t just be falling in my lap. The opportunities, the production, the people that you have access to work with; it all grew as I grew. But I was never like, “Oh, I want to make a pop song.”

Latto photographed July 5, 2024 at Resonant Studios in Atlanta. Eastie LA tank, archive Dolce & Gabbana shorts, Dsquared2 belt.

Christian Cody

Speaking of K-pop, what was entering that world like?

Stepping into K-pop was very different for me. I was like, “Oh, these people running low-key cults! They do not play.” I’m posting regular pictures on Instagram, then I post the picture with JK — Jungkook — I’m seeing my comments, likes, everything tripling. They got a real cult following. That sh-t is crazy. And then performing with him in New York and seeing the fan base in person, that sh-t was different. I’m tryna get like that.

Did your recent cross-genre collaborations influence how you approached your new album?

I want to say yes because they broadened my horizons and made me start thinking outside the box. I’m trying new BPMs. Being from the South, I noticed I stay in certain slow bop, Southern BPMs, so [I’m] trying different sounds and experimenting.

When did you decide on Sugar Honey Iced Tea as the album title?

When I met Pooh and Grizz and locked in with them, everything just felt Southern. One day, shortly after we cut “Put It on Da Floor,” I just walked in the studio like, “Sugar Honey Iced Tea is the name of the album.” People be trying to be messy and thinking it’s a response to something. I promise you, this is before any of that sh-t. This is something that just felt Southern to me. Where I’m from, we be like, “I’m the sugar honey iced tea!”

Do you feel any pressure going into this new record?

I’ve proven myself. People like to hate, but I’d rather people be talking than not talking. People like to play with me a lot, but at the end of the day, baby, I turn 26 this year. Y’all met me when I was 16. I’ve been rapping since I was 8, but the whole country met me on TV on The Rap Game when I was 16. I paid my dues. I’m 10 years in. I got a whole wall of plaques at the crib. All the OGs love me. They show me love when I’m backstage at these awards shows, and I get my flowers [from] the motherf–kers that matter.

I love the music that I’m making right now. I’m not chasing achievements. I’m just doing me. This is the happiest I’ve been to the point where I even told the label [to] fall back. I’m in the studio — I don’t want y’all sending me no beats, no songs, nothing. I’m doing what I want to do. I really haven’t been this confident for a project yet.

Christian Cody

Who was on the mood board for Sugar Honey Iced Tea?

I feel like what I’m doing has not been done before, so let’s start there. [Aesthetically], I’ve been pulling from Mariah Carey, Beyoncé and Lil’ Kim. [Musically], I’ve been pulling from Kelis, but obviously with a Southern hip-hop twist. They have very feminine energy, but masculine in the sense of confidence. I feel like they was boss b–ches. It just gave “I’m that girl.” When you hear and see them in that prime era, it gave “I’m here to stay.” In a world where everybody do music, I’m looking up to the GOATs at this sh-t. Ain’t no microwave artists here. I’m tryna be here for a minute… I am going to be here for a minute. I’ve been here for a minute already.

What about Lil’ Kim? Any connection between “Big Mama” and “Big Momma Thang”?

I swear to God, no! (Laughs.) [My producers] reminded me of that and I was like, “Oh, sh-t. I hope [she] don’t take that as offensive, like I’m tryna run off with her swag.” But I spell mine different. And Kim love me down. Me and Kim like this. (Crosses fingers.) That’s my b–ch. I don’t even think it’s like a Kim or Latto thing. It’s just a female’s bossed-up version of herself.

How have you felt yourself mature over the past two years?

I really had to start paying attention to myself because in this sh-t, you are treated like a number [or] you work for the world. I’m still figuring it out. You have to please your fans, you have to please the label, manager calling me with these to-do lists, and then I have a personal house that I have to come home to and my personal [romantic] relationship I have to attend to. I was giving too much of myself away. I was running myself into the ground. I needed to start taking care of myself or I was going to take a break.

Shortly after I turned 25, I just started looking at life as more limitless. I’ve been cussing [my team] out every day, like, “I need some more business stuff!”

What parts of your stage show are you proudest of, and what do you think you still need to work on?

I’m most proud of my comfort onstage. When I watch footage back, I’m like, “Oh, my gosh. Who is she? That’s not the same girl from rehearsal.” I feel like I’m looking at a star.

I definitely want to get more into choreography. I started off with [none], and now I’m hitting a little one, two here and there. I be telling them I need my “Roll on the floor, get back up” dramatic moment. Being more comfortable in heels, too. I should be able to give a good show in heels. It just looks more elevated. Beyoncé not going to be up there onstage in Air Force Ones!

Do I need to start putting money aside for the Big Mama World Tour?

Yes, I am going on tour later this year. I’m taking a loss on my touring because I told them I don’t want my tickets no higher than $40. I was like, “If you really want to make me happy, make it $39.99.” I don’t want it to be this overpriced thing. I want it to be an experience, but also affordable. I don’t want people to be like, “Damn, this or buy my mom a birthday gift.”

You’ve called yourself “Queen of Da Souf,” and with that comes some influence to help dictate where the sound of hip-hop is headed. Are you interested in trying other new styles? Could we hear you on some Cash Cobain, sexy drill-type music?

I don’t like to venture too far out to where it gets confusing. I feel like drill is just too far from an Atlanta sound. So honestly, no. Unless it was like a feature or a remix. I don’t see me hopping on no drill beat. I just think it’s not authentic to an Atlanta girl.

Where do you want to see hip-hop go?

This whole female wave right now, we’re going to look back and be like, “2024, it was 10 female rappers performing!” The female rap category went from three names to like nine. I love that. Beat switches too, like the “Big Mama” beat switch. That’s the thing right now for hip-hop. I think a lot more storytelling and substance is going to start coming back because it’s been so much, “Pop your sh-t. What you wearing? What drugs you doing? What you sipping? How you looking? What you pulling up in?” I think it’s been so much of that for such a long time that storytelling is putting people’s antennas up now.

You’re deep in your storytelling bag with “Shoutout to Me.” How do you get into the right headspace to open up emotionally on a track like that?

I like to write those kinds of songs at home and then bring them to the studio to record. I cried writing that song. I have to go through my emotions and be in an “alone” type of space where I can be that vulnerable. I’m so tough. I be thinking I’m a whole-ass mafia n—a in the ’70s. In my past life, I had to be one of them Italian mob bosses. (Laughs.) But I’m really one of those little hard-shell chocolates that’s milk in the middle. I’m not going to sit in the studio and cry. Even some of those lyrics, I would not say that sh-t in front of nobody. I have to be at home, write that on my own and take it to the studio.

Christian Cody

As a rapper who respects bars, what did you think of the Kendrick Lamar-Drake battle?

I ain’t going to lie: I liked it! I liked the back-and-forth. I thought it was healthy for the culture. It just felt nostalgic. I don’t think our generation has even seen a rivalry like that. I f–ked with it. I also think people get too in it. I feel like it’s two n—as that’s killing this sh-t, and they both so talented and they both on they high horse flexing their talent and capabilities. They both still that n—a, they both still the GOAT. That shit fye for the culture, bruh.

What was your favorite track out of all of them?

Probably “Family Matters.” We was leaving from a Mariah the Scientist concert and they said Drake dropped another one. I played that sh-t the whole ride home, and then sitting in front of the house, I’m like, “Hold on, just play it again!” That was the one.

Would you battle like that with, say, Ice Spice?

I mean this in the most understanding [way]: I’m a fan of music. I’m not one of them “lyrical only, anything else is bullsh-t” people. There’s so many subgenres that I’m a fan of — like mosh pit-type music; when Drake is in his melodic bag, I like that type sh-t — and all of it is still hip-hop.

If I was to do [a battle], it would have to be with somebody I feel like Imma go tit for tat with. I really don’t mean it as shade. Would she even want to do that? I feel like she’s doing her in her lane. It’s two different types of vibes. I don’t even think she gives me like, “Oh, she wants to engage in an actual rap beef.” Everybody gon’ take their lil jabs in the music, and it’s not even that serious to me; I feel like you should do that. Continue to! But as far as actual whole dis records to each other, I don’t think she would even want to do that. I feel like… would it even make sense? It wouldn’t.

Outside of hip-hop, what’s been catching your ear recently?

Country music. My mom, her mom and dad listen to country, so it reminds me of being in Ohio as a kid. As I got older, I realized I really like country music, so I been playing Cowboy Carter. And this might not be technically country, but it reminds of it — that Sabrina Carpenter song “Please Please Please.”

You mentioned that you keep track of streams. Do you consider yourself a numbers watcher?

To a certain extent. When I first got signed, I didn’t give a f–k about none of that sh-t. I feel like fans and blogs have made me care more about it. Then, being a Capricorn, once I learned about it, now I’m like, “OK, what you said ‘Sunday Service’ was streaming the first day? OK, so this one doing better.” I try not to let it consume me because I don’t ever want that to interfere with the art of it. I came into this because I genuinely wanted to rap. At the end of the day, I make music for me. As long as I like it, I don’t give a f–k how much it streams.

This story will appear in the July 20, 2024, issue of Billboard.

“Aht, aht, you not finna embarrass me!” Latto jokingly warns her pet shih-poo, Coca. The fluffy little pup — the first of several in her brood, soon, if Latto has her way — is deciding whether to use a grassy area outside a North Hollywood rehearsal studio as the bathroom. Fresh off a delayed flight […]

“Now I swear this green is just everywhere,” Charli xcx jokes. The British pop star is sitting in a crisp leather seat within a black Mercedes-Benz van, a few minutes into the long journey across London from her home to Wembley Arena. Tonight, Charli will be making a surprise appearance at her friend, collaborator and soon-to-be tourmate Troye Sivan’s late-June concert there — but right now, she’s focused on the neon green hue of both the tissue box across the seat from her and my laptop case. Outside, I spot a car of the same color passing by, then a man in a neon green construction vest. Has this color always been so prominent, or are we only just now noticing it?

Everything about Charli’s sixth studio album, brat, released June 7 to massive critical acclaim and commercial success, started with its title and its cover: the now ubiquitous lime green square with “brat” printed on it in slightly blurred Arial font. Scrolling through her old texts later, Charli searches for the exact day when she came up with the cover art. “OK, found it,” she says finally, leaning in to share. “On March 16, 2022, I texted my friends, ‘I think it should just be one word on the album cover… Maybe it should be called brat.’ ” When she started writing the album’s music about six months later in Mexico City, she used the title as a jumping-off point for the attitude and brazenness she wanted each song to embody.

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Inspired by a 1990s neon rave flyer and the title credits to Gregg Araki’s 2007 comedy, Smiley Face, Charli, 31, calls the album art’s color “actually quite disgusting” and says she picked it because it “spark[s] a really interesting conversation about [desirability]… It had to be really unfriendly and uncool.” Its shocking shade (it’s Pantone 3570-C, by the way) and easily replicable format has spawned mass virality — even the LinkedIn business bros, far from her target audience, are heralding it as “genius marketing.”

It’s hard to overstate brat’s current chokehold on the culture at large. “Bestie got a parking ticket and it’s BRAT CODED,” one fan recently tweeted, along with a photo of a green-colored citation. Hangers, earrings, lice shampoo, T-shirts, laundry detergent, olive oil, traffic signs, some old lady, grocery store chain Publix — if any trace of that characteristic green is involved, it can, and will, be labeled “brat” and posted online. Major brands like Amazon, Duolingo, Google and Netflix have embraced the hype, making “brat” memes of their own. Vegan sausage company Field Roast even created ads with lime green packaging featuring the word “bratwurst” in Arial font.

It’s the type of craze any marketing guru would kill for — which is why it’s even more noteworthy that, according to Charli’s team, the brat-uration of the internet started naturally. In fact, Imogene Strauss, her longtime creative director, has a more old-fashioned explanation for the cover art: She and Charli felt it was “loud” enough to stand out in a record store.

“We did hundreds of versions of the cover,” Strauss explains. “We knew it was going to be green, but the conversations around the shade of green were weeks long… There’s so many versions that existed before the final. We analyzed every single element: where has this color been used before, what are its associations, who reacts to it and how.”

Dilara Findikoglu top and shorts, Givenchy heels, 866 Royal Mint jewelry.

Charlotte Hadden

As it caught on, Charli’s team rushed to create a “brat generator” for fans to more easily make their own art inspired by the cover. When Charli followed up the hit album three days after its release with a deluxe version — brat and it’s the same but there’s three more songs so it’s not, featuring… well, three more songs — her team built a second generator to mimic its black-and-white cover art. When a brat wall mural in Brooklyn announced the deluxe set’s release one painted letter at a time, Charli livestreamed it. As her marketing and digital guru, Terry O’Connor, puts it, a “big focus” of the campaign was about “making and creating real-life, in-person moments” that can then be captured digitally, like the phenomenon of fans posting selfies in front of the wall.

And this is just the tip of the brat cultural iceberg. The 15-track, 41-minute album’s lyrics include several lines that have already infiltrated the internet lexicon: “I’m so Julia” (a reference to actress Julia Fox), “You gon’ jump if A. G. made it” (a nod to brat executive producer A. G. Cook), “Bumpin’ that” (a refrain on brat’s opening and closing tracks) and “Let’s work it out on the remix” (a line from Lorde’s “Girl, so confusing” remix). The song “Apple,” which Charli admits almost didn’t even make the album, has spawned a TikTok choreography craze. The posts about the record are mutating and evolving so fast that Atlantic Records A&R executive Brandon Davis says, “We joke that someone from the team always needs to be on night watch. Someone always needs to be awake, watching the internet, so we can just pop up and go.”

But the internet-fluent project, its party-ready music and its discourse-dominating rollout belie its deep emotional core, which grapples with ego, womanhood and relationships. On the stripped-back “I might say something stupid,” Charli admits insecurity: “Guess I’m the mess and play the role.” With the bombastic “Von dutch,” she embraces arrogance: “It’s OK to just admit you’re jealous of me.” Then, on the strobing “Girl, so confusing,” she questions friendships: “Sometimes I think you might hate me.” On the intimate “I think about it all the time,” she wrestles with complex life choices: “Should I stop my birth control?/’Cause my career feels so small in the existential scheme of it all.” By the full-circle album closer, “365,” she’s ready to go out: “Should we do another key, should we do another line?”

Alexander McQueen coat and boots, 866 Royal Mint jewelry.

Charlotte Hadden

Overly analytical therapy-speak has infiltrated pop music lyricism, but listeners have latched onto the sincerity of Charli’s direct and “conversational” club music. Modern discourse has fixated on the meanings of girlhood and womanhood, but brat has effectively stripped away the sugar coating, laying bare the jealousy, messiness and confusion inherent to many female relationships, even if it often goes unspoken.

“I didn’t want any metaphors — like, at all,” Charli says, interrupted by the van’s abrupt stop and the driver laying on the horn. “I wanted this record to feel like I was having a conversation with the listener in a true way. I could say that to you in the back of a cab on the way to a club. Like tonight? I want to dance with A. G.,” she says.

With that creative conviction, Charli hasn’t just made the album she always wanted to: She has scored the biggest success of her career. But as Twiggy Rowley, a member of Charli’s management team since 2014, puts it, brat’s impact is an “intangible groundswell” as much as it is a quantifiable achievement. “She’s always operated three steps ahead. The only change is that people are now catching on.”

“It’s weird because I’ve been here before,” Charli says, peering out the window as the London streets whip past. She’s reflecting on the commercial success of brat, which debuted at No. 3 on the Billboard 200, her highest position on the chart to date. “But last time, I was here in a very different way.”

About a decade ago, the Essex native born Charlotte Aitchison was poised to become the next big British pop star. After spending her teens cutting her teeth as a singer in the London rave scene, she signed with Atlantic/Asylum in the United Kingdom in 2009. In 2013, she hit No. 7 on the Billboard Hot 100 by way of her guest appearance on Icona Pop’s “I Love It,” and the following year, she topped the chart thanks to her feature on Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy.” Her own 2014 single, “Boom Clap,” propelled by its synch in the John Green teen drama The Fault in Our Stars, reached No. 8 on the Hot 100.

Known for her quick pen — she co-wrote hits for Camila Cabello and Shawn Mendes (“Señorita”) and Selena Gomez (“Same Old Love”) — and signature smudged black liner and dark mane of unruly waves, Charli seemed destined to continue dominating the charts as both songwriter and artist. But she amassed cultural cachet as an artist far quicker than commercial successes. Charli’s Angels — her cultlike fandom primarily comprising queer kids and partiers (or queer kid partiers) — have lauded her as a pop innovator for years, one so cool that the mainstream just didn’t get it. Each successive album found her striking out in new sonic directions — what she now calls “pendulum swings”— from Sucker’s pop-rock to How I’m Feeling Now’s pandemic hyperpop to, most recently, 2022’s Crash, a pop princess concept album that she says is “what it would sound like if I sold out.”

While Charli maintained a somewhat steady stream of critical acclaim for her work during these years, sometimes even the critics did not understand. An infamous Pitchfork review panned her now widely celebrated Vroom Vroom EP — produced by one of Charli’s mentors, the pioneering late artist SOPHIE, and today considered a foundational text of the subgenre known as hyperpop — with a dismal 4.5 rating upon its February 2016 release. In 2019, the critic “publicly disavowed the nonsense I wrote about Vroom Vroom” in a tweet; when Pitchfork rescored several of its most controversial reviews in 2021, it bumped the EP to a 7.8.

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Charli is used to this. At a screening for her high-concept “360” music video — featuring a veritable parade of “It” girls from Chloë Sevigny to Fox — at Brain Dead Studios theater in West Hollywood, she proclaimed to the crowd: “It’s hard being ahead, you know?” But despite her impact, Charli also tends to critique her past work. Reflecting on some of her early songs during our car ride, she calls them “just not very potent” versions of who she is as an artist; she considers 2014’s Sucker, for instance, “an attempt at what Olivia Rodrigo’s Sour was able to do much better.”

“My vision wasn’t fully realized,” Charli explains. “I made decisions that maybe were suggested to me but that I actually didn’t fully believe in. I was 19 years old. Whilst I think a lot of the songs that I was doing then were good songs, I wouldn’t necessarily have listened to them if it was another artist releasing them. I think I knew that at the time, but I also think I knew that that was OK. At that time, I was writing for a lot of other people, and I wanted to be doing that. I knew I probably wouldn’t have been in those [writing rooms] had ‘Boom Clap’ and those songs not happened the way they happened.”

Despite Crash being Charli’s open bid for mainstream approval, it turned out her “no compromise” record brat would be far more successful commercially. (Crash debuted at No. 7 on the Billboard 200 and fell off the chart after three weeks.) “Now every single move is considered in depth. I think about every element of my artistry so in depth that I feel truly potent now,” she explains, fixing her hair — which, after a few years of sporting a bob or various wigs, is back to its natural waved look, albeit with waist-long extensions.

“This is the most unabashedly, unapologetically Charli yet,” says Good World founder Brandon Creed, another member of her management team. “It is a paradigm shift for her and, in some ways, for the industry. This is a high-charting album, but it’s not being led by just one hit single. There’s a number of songs going at once.”

Charli xcx photographed July 4, 2024 at Loft Studios in London.

Charlotte Hadden

Still, Charli says, “I don’t really do this for the charts,” quickly couching her dismissal with a half-hearted “no offense.” On the brat track “Rewind” she does admit to contemplating it sometimes, singing, “I never used to think about Billboard/But now, I’ve started thinking about/Wondering about whether I think I deserve commercial success.”

“That line is actually referencing ‘Speed Drive’ [from the Barbie soundtrack],” Charli explains. “I wrote the song in 30 minutes. I didn’t think anything of [“Speed Drive”]… I feel like [soundtrack executive producer Mark Ronson] asked me a little late in the game. He was like, ‘We need something for the driving scene. Do you want to do it?’ And I was like ‘Yeah, sure, whatever.’ ”

When “Speed Drive” became her biggest hit in years, climbing to No. 73 on the Hot 100, she was in the middle of writing brat. “I wrote ‘Rewind’ as a reference to the feeling of ‘Wait, now I’m having this big moment with “Speed Drive.” F–k, that feels so random.’ ” Unfortunately, she says that due to the song’s interpolations of The Teddy Bears’ “Cobrastyle” and Toni Basil’s “Mickey,” “there are now like 25 writers listed on it or something, which really sucks for us… though I don’t really make much money from publishing anyway.” (Billboard estimates that Charli earns between $500,000 and $900,000 in publishing royalties from her artist catalog annually, depending on the nature of her publishing deal. This estimate includes both her publishing for her artist catalog and the songs she has written for others.)

Charli appears satisfied, if ambivalent, about her chart debut inroads with brat, but some of her Angels took offense on her behalf, particularly with her No. 2 debut in the United Kingdom. The same week that brat dropped, Taylor Swift — the rumored subject of brat track “Sympathy is a knife” — surprised fans with two new variants of The Tortured Poets Department. Both were specifically locked for only residents of the United Kingdom, where many believed Charli had a shot at No. 1. The Angels decried Swift’s move, accusing her of “blocking” Charli. In response to those rumors, Creed simply tells Billboard: “We stayed on our course, and we’re thrilled with the results of the album.”

At the 12,500-capacity Wembley Arena, Charli’s van is ushered through a back entrance. As she’s led down a long, low-ceiling hallway and hurried into her designated green room, her stiletto-heeled boots clack loudly on the concrete floor.

The hallway opens into the empty arena, where lighting techs are busily building the LED displays that will backdrop Sivan’s show a few hours later. Again, brat green is seemingly everywhere, from employee uniforms to venue signage; as it happens, it’s the color of the arena’s branding.

During the show, Sivan brings out Charli to perform their 2018 duet, “1999.” This fall, they’ll co-headline the Sweat Tour of U.S. arenas. After being friends for much of their careers and sharing Creed as a manager, Charli says that it finally “made sense” for them to tour together due to the “dance-leaning” nature of brat and Sivan’s latest album, last fall’s Something To Give Each Other. Largely citing seating charts on Ticketmaster, some outlets have reported low ticket sales for the tour, which was announced in mid-April, several weeks before brat’s release. But Jenna Adler, Charli’s agent at CAA, calls the rumor “fake news.”

“That’s just clickbait. It’s crazy,” she says. “My conviction is so strong about how well this tour is doing because I have the numbers and the numbers don’t lie.” (Adler declined to provide sales figures.) Charli also has four U.K. arena dates lined up for late 2024.

Patou top and skirt, Balenciaga boots.

Charlotte Hadden

Live performance has already been essential to brat’s rollout, starting with Charli’s immediately legendary Boiler Room DJ set in February, which broke the record for the highest number of RSVPs in the company’s history within hours of its announcement. Flanked by brat executive producer Cook; her fiancé and co-writer, The 1975’s George Daniel; and producer Easyfun, she played many of brat’s songs for the first time. But to keep fans on their toes, all the versions she played were remixes.

“The reason I love electronic music and clubs and DJs so much is that everything is endless. Everything can be repurposed, reimagined,” she says. “As a pop writer, I find that exciting. It was cool to use Boiler Room as a space to demonstrate that artists often make five different versions of a song and the song that is put out is not the only one.”

Playing with the idea of “inclusivity and exclusivity,” as she puts it, is a core theme of brat. “I like the marketing of pop music more than I am interested in actual pop music,” Charli says. “I think we’ve been living in this world now for a while where there’s this desire to appeal to the most people, to have the biggest smile and be the nicest person with the widest appeal. But desire is cultivated by being a little bit hard to reach, a little bit separate. That’s why people want to wait in a queue at f–king Supreme, you know what I mean?

“With brat, it was really interesting to just do things for the fan base and make that feel exclusive — but then once you’re in the club, it’s actually very inclusive,” she continues. “Actually, everyone can join the club. It’s just that everybody joins at slightly different times in slightly different ways — whether that be on my private Instagram posts, or the 400-person Boiler Room, or a random cinema screening of a new music video in L.A., or a text message from me.”

Alexander McQueen coat and boots.

Charlotte Hadden

Around brat’s release, Charli followed up her Boiler Room success with a brief underplay tour that stopped in London, New York, Chicago and Los Angeles. Held in far more intimate rooms than her upcoming arena tour, each became the hottest ticket in town. The show at New York’s Brooklyn Paramount in particular turned into an in-person reunion of Charli’s cast of characters mentioned, featured or alluded to on brat. (She says the album’s frequent name-checking also embodies that inclusivity-and-exclusivity concept: When you learn that “so Julia” refers to Fox, for example, it unlocks some of the meaning of “360.”) Fox attended that night, along with Cook; Daniel; The 1975’s Matty Healy; his fiancée, Gabbriette Bechtel; and the subject of “Girl, so confusing”: Lorde.

Like many of brat’s songs, figuring out the subject of “Girl, so confusing” isn’t difficult — which is why Charli reached out to Lorde ahead of its release. “I had to go through the process of telling her that this song is about her and her being OK with that first,” Charli explains. “I was trying to meet up with her for almost a year, and we kept having this weird, like, we were [going to], then we wouldn’t. It spoke to the narrative of the song itself. In the end, it didn’t work out. Then the day before the record came out, I left her a voice note. [Lorde] replied straight away and was like, ‘Oh, my God, I had no idea you felt this way. I’m so sorry.’ And then was like, ‘You know, maybe I should be on a version of the song.’ I didn’t even ask her. She brought it up.

“So much of this rollout was planned, but sometimes it was not,” she continues. “Lorde’s remix of ‘Girl, so confusing’ is a perfect example. That wasn’t planned. It took three days total.”

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Within a few days, Lorde cut her verse. She sent it off to Charli and then headed out to attend the Brooklyn Paramount show. Lorde tells Billboard her first reaction to the song was a “two-part thing of both deep empathy for my friend and this feeling of ‘Man, I’ve been misunderstood, and I really want to make it right.’ ”

“It’s funny,” Charli says. “When I was listening to [Lorde’s] verse for the first time, I was backstage at the show. My hair stylist also does her hair. He had also just done her hair for the show, too, so he was just with her, and then he came to me and was like, ‘I’m so happy you guys are good.’ ”

“When I was writing this verse, I was saying these things to her for the first time,” Lorde says. “There was such a rawness and an immediacy to what I was saying. I love that we truly did work it out on the remix. There’s something very brat about that, something very meta and modern. Only Charli could make that happen. She had opened up a channel between us, and it made me say things that I had never said. I was articulating things I’d never said or maybe even things I’ve never even heard said. This whole thing has been such a huge honor.”

A week after the Sivan show, Charli is at her London home, getting her hair and makeup done for her Billboard cover shoot. With an 8 a.m. call time for glam and plans to later attend a promotional event in Northern England until late into the night, it’s evident that brat’s omnipresence is not due to sheer luck or even just great songs: It’s also largely the result of a relentless schedule of marketing and promotion by Charli and her team.

Sam Pringle, another co-manager of Charli’s since 2014, credits her as the mastermind behind all of it. He says Charli sent the team “a 20-page PDF breaking down every element of brat in full” in January before everything kicked off. “I should have known then that this was going to be a campaign like no other.”

Since then, Charli admits she has had practically no downtime, especially not after the album release. She did have a couple of days of recovery after her late-night DJ set at the Glastonbury Festival the weekend before her Billboard shoot, but “that’s about it,” she says, shrugging. “I feel good, but I’m overwhelmed as well. But also, I just love the music that I’ve made so much, which is not always the case… Luckily, I want to be doing all of this.”

Charli xcx photographed July 4, 2024 at Loft Studios in London. Balenciaga top, skirt and boots.

Charlotte Hadden

Still, in the zenith of so-called “brat summer,” as fans say, Charli says she has more planned. The wall in Brooklyn that she used to tease out the deluxe release was recently taken down, which fans read as the end of the brat era. But Charli assuaged those fears on social media: “brat summer is only just beginning :).”

When asked if more remixes are yet to come, she answers, “Yes,” but coyly declines to offer details. She also says she’s planning to go to Poland for three weeks in August “to write a film there with…” Then she hesitates, catching herself before she gives too much away. “Well, I don’t really know if I should say because I also don’t know if we’re going to do it. We might actually just go to Poland and not do that, but that is the idea.”

She has never written a script before, but as a longtime cinephile, she’s excited to try. Why Poland? “Because it’s going to take place in Poland. We would write it and shoot it at the same time, kind of like making an album. One of the guys is the director — he works that way all the time.”

Long term, she’s less sure about where her musical career will go next. “I saw this tweet the other day that was like, ‘Does anyone think that this is Charli’s last album?’… Then I was like, ‘Actually, that could be cool if I didn’t really make music anymore after this,’ ” she admits. “I’m definitely thinking about it because I really want to act.” Then she pauses. “I don’t know. I’m just so deep in this, I can’t see outside of brat, but it’s funny. I kind of want to make a Lou Reed record, to be honest. That would definitely be a pretty big swing.”

And for that reason, it could be the perfect Charli move. The rest of the world might only just now be catching up to her, but “Charli’s been doing this,” as Lorde says. “She’s been Charli this whole time. She’s just put one foot in front of the other. Learned something from every project. Michelangelo apparently once said, ‘I’m just going to carve away all that is not David,’ and I feel that that’s what we are getting to witness in real time: Charli saying to herself, ‘I’m going to carve away all that is not Charli.’ It’s very, very big and special, powerful, fun, sick work that she does.”

This story will appear in the July 20, 2024, issue of Billboard.

“Now I swear this green is just everywhere,” Charli xcx jokes. The British pop star is sitting in a crisp leather seat within a black Mercedes-Benz van, a few minutes into the long journey across London from her home to Wembley Arena. Tonight, Charli will be making a surprise appearance at her friend, collaborator and […]

You won’t see Ty Dolla $ign’s name in the production credits for Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us.” But without him, the song that this spring put an exclamation point on Lamar’s long-­simmering beef with Drake — a jovial but menacing track primarily produced by Mustard, built around a pulsating set of strings — might very well not exist.
Long before Mustard became the top purveyor of Cali bounce, he was a friend and student of Ty’s. They both rolled with a crew called Pu$haz Ink that included artists across disciplines — rappers, singers, graffiti artists, producers and even a few gangsters for good measure. As part of the group’s in-house production squad, Ty would host the crew at his home while he cooked up beats for them. And while he toiled away, the young DJ Mustard steadily documented everything he saw, clocking Ty’s every move to see just how the magic was made. One night, the crew was having a party at a house in Los Angeles’ Baldwin Hills neighborhood when Mustard played the song “Scotty” by Atlanta snap group D4L; Ty still remembers how everyone went crazy and started dancing. He was blown away by the beat’s simplicity, which reminded him of the jerk music then growing in popularity in California.

The next morning, still inspired, Ty started making some new beats. One of his production partners, Chordz, gave him a record to sample that Ty slowed down and pitched perfectly to accentuate the 808s, hi-hat, a snare and a piano sound. The beat became “Toot It & Boot It,” the 2010 debut single for Ty’s Pu$haz Ink peer, the rapper YG — and Ty’s first hit record. But, more importantly, the beat laid the foundation for what became the de facto sound of the West Coast for the next decade, one that Mustard perfected and made his own.

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“Mustard [was] always in my ear like, ‘Yo, you got to stop, the sh-t is done, the sh-t is done, stop adding all that sh-t,’ ” Ty remembers today. “I guess it was irritating him so bad that he was like, ‘I’m finna do my own beats. Give me some sounds,’ ” he adds with a laugh. So he did. “The same sounds he’s using, I gave him years ago.”

Ty’s easygoing nature can mask his intense work ethic and deep musical knowledge. But that combination has helped him endure and soar in this industry for more than a decade. In addition to a solo career that has redefined the sound of R&B, he has worked with an astounding number of artists across genres, from 21 Savage to Fifth Harmony to Charli XCX to Post Malone.

“To me, he is someone who is such an ambidextrous player,” says Julie Greenwald, chair/CEO of Atlantic Music Group, where Ty is signed to Atlantic Records. “You could put him in any room, any studio environment, and the guy will always rise to the occasion of making great music. He’s so comfortable in his own skin and with what kind of contributor he is. Ty is that guy who makes great music on his own and makes great music with whoever you put him with.”

Enfants Riches Déprimés pants, Gentle Monster eyewear.

Sage East

That comfort is why Ty didn’t think twice about helping Mustard find his sound. “Mustard brought it to a whole ’nother level,” he says today over Zoom from his house in L.A. At 42, Ty still looks like the baby-faced crooner who first appeared back in 2010. His hair is longer, of course, and he’s a bit heftier, but he still loves blowing trees. As he’s talking, he preps a pile of spliffs to take with him as he runs errands; you get the feeling that Ty’s checklist before leaving the crib is, “Keys, phone, wallet, spliff.” “I tell people when it comes to music, people have already played every single line — there’s just different ways you can do it,” he says. “Mustard just brought it to a whole ’nother level. I’m super proud of what he’s doing, and we’re just setting it up for the next generation.”

These days, the artist born Tyrone William Griffin Jr. has a lot to be proud of. It has taken him a while, but 20 years after starting his first musical group, the R&B duo Ty & Kory, Ty has finally attained the one accolade that had thus far eluded him: a No. 1 as lead artist on the Billboard Hot 100. Earlier this year, his collaborative album with Ye, Vultures 1, topped the Billboard 200, and one of its songs, the uproarious “Carnival,” rose to the Hot 100’s top spot. It was a feat many believed wouldn’t or couldn’t happen — not because either artist lacked the ability to make a No. 1 album or single today (before 2024, Ye already had 10 Billboard 200 No. 1s and four Hot 100 chart-toppers to his name), but because, well, no one really understood why or how the project was happening in the first place.

By 2022, Ye (the artist formerly known as Kanye West) had ostracized himself from nearly every industry of the many he had participated in, following a ceaseless series of offensive remarks and actions, both in person and on social media. He lost his lucrative sneaker deal with adidas after he made inappropriate sexual comments to employees and following a series of antisemitic remarks he made publicly. He lost his longtime deal with Def Jam Records and Universal Music Group, and high fashion brands like Balenciaga, which Ye once helped find success in the hip-hop world, cut ties with him. The usual Ye redemption cycle — which has historically involved him doing something public and widely considered offensive, then releasing a remarkable piece of art that makes much of the public all but forget the offense — would not work this time. Despite making a public apology on Instagram for his harmful antisemitic comments, it seemed as if Ye had finally crossed the Rubicon and become radioactive.

So when news broke last fall that Ye and Ty were dropping an album together, many fans were perplexed. But the pair’s alignment made sense in multiple ways. The two had worked together many times before: Ty wrote and lent vocals to songs on 2016’s The Life of Pablo (“Real Friends” and “Fade”) and produced and sang on its 2018 follow-up, Ye. Historically, Ye has relied on someone else to help him bring a project across the finish line — Rick Rubin famously helped him assemble what became Yeezus in 2013, and most recently, Mike Dean has been his go-to homestretch guy. On Big Boy’s Neighborhood, a popular L.A.-based radio morning show, Ye explained why Ty was that essential player for Vultures 1. “Mike Dean was the kind of person that you can hand him something and he’ll hand you a finished product back. That’s how Ty is,” he said. “You can give him something, even a murmur, and he’ll bring it back with the words, he can fix all the notes on it, he can bring in the drums, the music.” Today, Ty agrees with his collaborator’s assessment. “I remember Thundercat’s dad [drummer Ron Bruner Sr.] telling me one time that he used to teach his son to be a master of one thing instead of trying to do all the things,” he says. “But what I feel like I was the master at was completing songs — whatever [their] f–king genre.”

3 Man jacket, Gabriela Coll shirt, Gentle Monster eyewear.

Sage East

As for the why of Vultures 1 — why Ty, a low-key, affable guy who seemingly gets along with everyone, would align himself with someone as caustic as Ye — as Ty sees it, the answer is pretty simple.

“Ye is the best artist of this generation, besides me, and I don’t give a f–k about what people were talking about. I know my n—. He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met,” he says. Ty also shrugs off the notion that he might have feared the album would perform poorly because everyone else thought Ye’s musical career was over. “Just with my analysis of how it goes with him, he goes all the way to the top. And something may happen and he’ll say [something people find offensive] — and then people [get] right back, you know. Because this sh-t is undeniable.”

The “how” of Vultures 1 is a bit more complicated.

Coming off his 2023 single “Motion,” a Chris Brown-featuring track heavily inspired by South African amapiano music, Ty wanted his next album to reflect the sounds he has loved while traveling. When Ty ran into Ye at a club in Tokyo in the spring of 2023, he was just starting work on the project, and he asked Ye to executive-­produce. Ye agreed, and the two started working on music together the very next day. Ye’s involvement moved the music away from the Black diasporic and house and club influences that Ty was experimenting with — and marked the genesis of Vultures 1.

Ty already had a bunch of songs in the can that he says he started right where we’re sitting a few weeks before our Zoom, in his studio in downtown Hollywood. He has had this space for just about a year, and a remodeling is ongoing; the only signs that a major hit-maker owns the spot are the vintage cars parked in the back in various states of restoration and the collection of rare synths and keyboards usually housed in the main studio.

Despite its current appearance, this is where Ty feels most at home creating. The freedom he has here led to the experimentation that yielded “Burn” — probably the warmest, most soulful track on Vultures 1. “The ‘Burn’ that I brought [Ye] was a completely different song. It had a whole different beat. A whole different direction,” Ty remembers. “He took it, loved it, stripped it down, redid the beat, and we got ‘Burn’ — and it’s the second-biggest streaming song on Vultures.”

3 Man jacket, Gabriela Coll shirt, OTW by Vans shoes, Gentle Monster eyewear.

Sage East

That’s pretty much how the entire album went: Ty would bring Ye a track, and the two would then deconstruct it and build it back up — a laborious, time-intensive undertaking, especially amid the globe-trotting the two did while making the project. Largely at Ye’s behest, Vultures 1 was recorded in Las Vegas, Miami, Los Angeles, Japan, Italy, Saudi Arabia and Dubai, United Arab Emirates. In trademark Ye fashion — he famously recorded Watch the Throne with Jay-Z between European castles and the Mercer hotel in New York — the duo set up in wildly varying locales at each stop.

“Japan was hotel rooms, Italy was hotel rooms. Then we got Sting to let us use his [Italian] villa,” Ty says. “At first we were just recording in the living room, recording by the pool, setting up recording equipment out there, and then we found out that there’s an actual recording studio there,” he adds with a laugh. In Dubai, Ye and Ty took over an empty building in a hotel complex and built a bunch of makeshift studios throughout it. That’s where they made “Do it,” the YG and Nipsey Hussle-featuring track that sounds like a baroque strip club anthem. “It’s a very expensive album, I will say that,” Ty admits. “It would make for a crazy documentary.” (Ty has footage of some of the songs being made, but probably not enough for a movie, he allows.)

The Ye and Ty world tour of sorts was, Ty says now, nothing new for him: “I’ve always done that. All of my songs; all of my albums — traveling everywhere, laptop, mic, speakers. I’ve done music that way ever since you could make music that way.” But he got his start much more traditionally. Born in South Central L.A., Ty was raised in a musical home. His father, Tyrone Griffin Sr., was a session musician who played all over L.A., sitting in with acts ranging from rap royalty (2Pac and Snoop Dogg) to R&B rising stars (Immature) and the legendary funk band Lakeside (best known for the 1981 hit “Fantastic Voyage,” sampled by Coolio on his track of the same name).

Griffin Sr. and Ty’s mother, a real estate agent, separated when Ty was young, and he stayed with his mom while his older brother went to live with his dad — but Sr. left a lasting impression on Jr., who had started fiddling with his dad’s instruments before he could talk and later amassed his own collection at his mom’s place. (Today, Ty can play a multitude of instruments by ear, including the drums, keyboard and guitar.) When Ty started making beats as a 12-year-old, he would use two cassette tapes to make his own loops. Realizing that method’s inefficiency, Griffin Sr. bought his son his first MPC and set him on his way.

Listening to the ambrosial blend of ’90s R&B, G-Funk and rap that constitutes Ty’s solo catalog today, it’s easy to hear his musical DNA and the complementary influences of his funk musician dad and the gangsta rap that dominated the airwaves of his youth. Both powered Ty’s fresh vision for what popular Black music could be.

Alpinestars RSRV hoodie, pants and boots; Sucia Rata gloves; 032c for MYKITA eyewear.

In the early 2000s, Ty worked to fine-tune that vision — and the world got its first glimpse of what he had in mind with Free TC, his 2015 debut studio album dedicated to his incarcerated brother, Jabreal Muhammad. (The project’s title references Muhammad, nicknamed Big TC, who has been serving a life sentence since 2004 for a murder he says he didn’t commit.) At the time, most fans knew Ty from “Toot It & Boot It” and his Beach House mixtapes and EP, which birthed his first top 40 hit, “Paranoid.”

Those songs were good and catchy but belied Ty’s true musical dexterity, revealed more wholly on Free TC. Thanks to his songwriting and production résumé by that point, Ty was able to call on a stunning list of heavy-hitter guest stars for his debut — Lamar, Ye, Future, Brandy, Wiz Khalifa and Babyface, among many others. Combining classic R&B melodies and styles with modern rap energy, he melded the two worlds in a way few had successfully done before. Think Future, if he could sing traditionally well, produce and play instruments, and you start to scratch the surface of Ty’s capabilities.

“[When we signed Ty in 2012] R&B was in kind of an uncool space. He was, like, bringing it into the future with his songwriting, with his production, with his melodies, the way he was approaching songs,” recalls former Atlantic A&R executive Shawn Barron, who signed Ty to the label after hearing some of his early music. “It was just all so new. And I feel like really he’s the forefather of the R&B that we hear today.”

3 Man jacket, Gabriela Coll shirt.

Sage East

In person, Ty is usually humble. When prodded about his influence over modern R&B, he impishly acknowledges some similarities between what he has done and the R&B currently dominating the charts. But when it comes to his love of the genre, he’s unabashed.

“I love R&B. You see outside [the studio], I got my 1964 Chevy Impala on chrome spokes. When I’m in that I’m listening to old R&B — you know, love songs and that vibe that just fits the car because it’s the time,” he says, putting his spliff down to indicate how much he means what he says. He’s just as fulsome when it comes to giving props to R&B’s newer stars. “I love SZA. Chris Brown is a legend — he’s like, The One. I love Bryson Tiller and what he just dropped. Brent [Faiyaz] is hard. There’s so many people I can name… Coco Jones, as far as like, the new ones coming out. Yeah, she’s killing it. Tyla. There’s a lot of dope R&B right now.”

He trails off a bit and then blurts out one more name: “Leon Thomas!” A 30-year-old, New York-raised singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist, Thomas earned a modicum of fame as a kid actor on Nickelodeon’s Victorious. A former member of the Rascals songwriting and producing crew, Thomas went on to write and produce for Babyface, Drake and Ye. But his biggest placement came in 2022 when he co-wrote SZA’s “Snooze,” the song that would win him his first Grammy. And if it’s up to Ty, Thomas will become a household name soon: He’s the first signee to Ty’s label, EZMNY Records.

“When he took a liking to my music, one thing I noticed is that he always respected what I did as a live musician and never really wanted to change me into something quote unquote more palatable. He really respected who I was truly as a human being and as an artist,” Thomas says. “We’re doing our best to garner the best numbers we can get. But I love the fact that he’s investing in someone like myself who’s really focused on doing my best to make art and to stay true to being a musician.”

Alpinestars RSRV hoodie, pants and boots; Sucia Rata gloves; 032c for MYKITA eyewear.

Sage East

Making the music that inspires the next generation of R&B artists is one thing; taking charge of the career of one of that generation’s most promising artists is another entirely, especially for someone like Ty who has made a career out of following his own creative north star and rarely having to make tough compromises. But Barron, Ty’s partner in EZMNY, believes he’s actually the perfect person to lead a label. The two started EZMNY in 2022 as a place to showcase what they consider to be real music. “I just want to find the best artists on the planet,” Ty explains. “To me, it’s like, ‘OK, popularity is one thing, all that sh-t that a lot of people look for, how many streams did they do? How many followers do they have?’ [But] I wasn’t worried about that. Because I know that’s not what it takes. That’s one thing to figure out. But you got to be good in order to last now.”

“Ty’s a great artist, and I feel like he knows certain things that it took for him to get where he needed to be on certain things that I don’t even know,” Barron says. “I feel like he takes those thoughts and actions [on the artist side] and he brings them over to being a label executive. And he’s very artist-friendly. He’s able to describe and break down things that may be confusing to some people because he has been through it already.”

As he launched his own label and traveled the globe making an album with one of the most famous/infamous artists on the planet, Ty was also confronting personal news that seems to still surprise him: His 19-year-old daughter, Jailynn, aspires to follow in her father’s footsteps and make music, too. “She came to me the other day, and was like, ‘Dad, I want to record one record.’ I’m like, ‘What you want to do, rap or sing?’ She’s like, ‘I want to sing on my art.’ So she just made one song. It’s hard. And she’s going to keep on going.” He jokes that Ye’s oldest daughter, North, must have inspired Jailynn after North’s fan-favorite verse on Vultures 1’s “Back to Me.” “I’m like, ‘Wow, I really never heard you sing before.’ [Jailynn] really just never sung in front of me,” he recalls. “And she told me she didn’t want to do music. She was playing basketball.”

His own solo project — the one he intended to focus on when that first fateful meeting with Ye happened in Japan — will have to wait: Now he has a trilogy to finish. Today, in his main studio room, he plays music, some of which he says is from Vultures 2. As Ty tells it, the album is almost done and could be released any day now. (The album art features a masked Ty holding a portrait of his incarcerated brother, Muhammad.) As with Vultures 1, his label may well be among the last to find out, which Greenwald says isn’t a problem: “He has earned that right with us. When he calls to say, ‘I made a project, it’s coming out,’ we always say, ‘Listen, this is your name and we got you.’ ”

When asked about the rumors that he and Ye will circumvent streaming platforms and sell the album directly to fans, Ty replies, “Why not? Switch it up. He’s always got something up his sleeve. I always got some[thing] up my sleeve.” To Ty, the album’s distribution comes second to the music. He’ll let Ye worry about the marketing and distribution. His focus, as he works with an artist he believes has unlimited creative potential, is to get the rest of this trilogy out into the world — just like he has always done.

“We got all the songs. Basically, it’s just like, ‘How can we get it there? How can we go bigger than the first album?’ ” Ty says, clearly amped. He won’t say it explicitly, but it’s within reason that, as we’re speaking, he’s trying to piece together the puzzle that will become Vultures 2. After all, that’s why Ye — and everyone else — loves working with Ty. He can do anything and everything. But unless the album makes fans move and adds something new to music — something that has never been attempted before — then to him, it’s not done. “Certain people will probably expect you to just do the same exact sound,” he says. “But that sound’s already out.”

This story will appear in the June 22, 2024, issue of Billboard.

Did you come in when I was dressed like a sperm?”
Despite her wry tone, Annie Clark — the artist better known as St. Vincent — isn’t joking. Not quite an hour earlier, Clark was posing for her Billboard photo shoot in a hooded, ruffled cream mini-dress in front of a billowing blush-pink backdrop meant to evoke a different bit of human anatomy. (Let’s just say the setup was a spiritual descendant of Georgia O’Keeffe’s work.)

As St. Vincent, Clark conjures an enigmatic, opaque aura. But today, she’s in a frank, funny and freewheeling mood. She jests about the suggestive pictures of female models plastered on the walls around us (“Boner patrol, look out!”) and swerves easily from topics highbrow (abstract Russian painter Kazimir Malevich) to low (an off-and-on gamer, she was briefly obsessed with The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild). Clark chose to soundtrack her shoot with David Bowie’s coke-fueled 1976 classic, Station to Station, and as we gush over it, the singer-songwriter gives her beige Prada jacket a little shake. “I do like to think this trench coat is giving ‘Dancing in the Street,’ ” she says, referencing the outrageously ’80s music video for Bowie and Mick Jagger’s hit cover. “Minus the cocaine.”

Much like Clark herself, St. Vincent’s Grammy Award-winning output — which has run the gamut from twee indie to ass-­kicking art-rock to conceptual electropop — is an arresting mix of the intellect and the id. Her latest album, All Born Screaming, can be experienced as an atavistic staring contest with existence — or simply as a rippin’ alt-rock record.

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“It’s about life and death and love,” she explains. “And that’s it.” For the 41-year-old Clark, at least two of those topics are intrinsically linked to her own identity as a queer artist. “Every record I’ve ever made has been so personal about what’s going on in my life at any given time. I’m queer. I know how to code-switch. The idea of identity as performance has been very clear to me since I was a child.” Even so, Clark shuts down the suggestion that she adopted a mask or performative identity for the album: “I’m queer, I’m living in multitudes, but this record in particular is not about persona or deconstruction.”

Shushu/Tong dress and headpiece, Zhilyova gloves, BY FAR shoes.

Lenne Chai

Code-switching — changing one’s behavior to suit an uncomfortable environment — is nothing new for LGBTQ+ people. Even in the generally progressive-minded music community, Clark says the world queer musicians currently inhabit is “very different” than when she kicked off her recording career in 2006 with the three-song EP Paris Is Burning. “Which is one of those things which gives me a lot of hope,” she notes. “I know there are certain things in the world trending in a scary direction, but all in all, I’d rather live right now than any other time in history. We wouldn’t be having this conversation 60 years ago. I would be a nurse, I would be a secretary, or I would be a mother.”

When I suggest that 60 years ago, I would have been pushed into a heterosexual union and having same-sex dalliances on the down-low, she laughs and perks up. “Exactly! You would have a beautiful wife at home and would be getting your d–k sucked at the whatever. And you’d never know if it was a cop [trying to entrap you].”

As she references the hankie code (as early as the ’70s, gay men used different-colored bandannas to signify sexual preferences) and Hal Fischer’s 1977 photo book, Gay Semiotics: A Photographic Study of Visual Coding Among Homosexual Men, it’s clear Clark knows her queer history. “People the world was hostile to developed these secret languages, secret codes, in order to communicate. I find that fascinating,” she says. “You’re very aware there’s a subterranean, subtext layer to everything that’s going on — and you have your antennae up at all times. That is erotic to me. But I’m glad that [I live in this era].”

As for the downside to LGBTQ+ culture going mainstream? “Well, if you’re safe for the TV screen, you also invite an aspect of grift [from the outside world],” she muses. “Which… I raise an eyebrow at.” To emphasize her point, she cocks her left brow; for a moment, she could pass for a hyperlogical Vulcan on Star Trek. “But there have been plenty of queer people in music. Even if the culture was saying no, there were always queer people in the arts. Please. We have built this.”

For a college dropout, Clark has done pretty well for herself. Born in Tulsa, Okla., she relocated to Texas as a child when her mother moved her and two older sisters to Dallas following her parents’ divorce. (Clark now has four brothers and four sisters from the combined families.) Her childhood obsession with the guitar, ignited by the 1987 Ritchie Valens biopic La Bamba starring Lou Diamond Phillips, became serious as she entered her teen years, and a stint as a roadie for her uncle’s jazz-folk duo, Tuck & Patti, gave Clark her first taste of the touring business.

Clark attended Boston’s prestigious Berklee College of Music but left after three years (though her parents didn’t find out until several years later, when they read it in the press). “Other people have real educations,” she says. “I had philosophy teachers who were like, ‘How is Kierkegaard like Bob Marley?’ ” She shakes her head, almost tenderly. “It’s not. It’s not and that’s fine.” (When I ask how a music school dropout seems to have an endless fount of cultural, historical and artistic references at her disposal, she laughs and asks, “Is that your way of saying, ‘It’s OK you never went to real college’?”)

After cutting herself loose from Berklee, Clark spent 2005 and 2006 on the road with the robe-rocking, symphonic indie outfit Polyphonic Spree, joining Sufjan Stevens’ touring band for a spell shortly thereafter. Her solo debut album, Marry Me, released in 2007 on Beggars Banquet, was a chamber-pop cauldron with notes of Stevens and Spree, but had a playful, wry sense of humor that indicated it was just the tip of the St. Vincent iceberg. (For one thing, the album takes its title from a running joke on Arrested Development — a fact that today causes Clark to rest her head on her fingertips in faux embarrassment before concluding, “It is a great show.”)

On her next release, Actor, Clark’s music developed a jagged, sardonic bite that brought her to the Billboard 200 for the first time (at No. 90). Her top 20 follow-up, the 2011 art-rock statement Strange Mercy, was tinged with pain, fury, self-doubt and confusion — and dispelled any lingering misconceptions that she was a holdover from the demure, precious indie pop of the ’00s. While Clark had always seemed like an artist with something to say, on Strange Mercy, she sounded like an artist who needed to say something.

“In order to get good, you have to go through a series of humbling and humiliating experiences,” she reflects. “On the other hand, you have to have this psychotic belief — an unreasonable belief, truly — that you are going to write songs and make music that is going to matter. And that’s a really crazy thought.” She pauses. “I have that thought — with plenty of self-loathing and self-laceration — but I also have this [feeling], ‘If I don’t do this, I’m going to die.’ ”

Camilla and Marc shirt, Nour Hammour coat, Zhilyova gloves.

Lenne Chai

Among those who took notice of Clark’s creativity and drive was Talking Heads legend and fellow rock eccentric David Byrne. Their 2012 collaborative album, the funky, brass-heavy Love This Giant, netted Byrne his first top 40 entry outside Talking Heads on the Billboard 200.

“Annie is so many things all at once,” Byrne tells Billboard. “Beautiful, inventive, inscrutable — in the best way possible. I know her as someone warm and friendly, but as anyone listening to her music can hear, she’s got a dark side that as far as I know just has an outlet in her music. Would that all of us could do that.”

After a lengthy tour with Byrne — “I love playing shows. I’m up there, and truly, something else kicks in,” Clark emphasizes — she solidified her reputation as an art-rock auteur on her self-titled fourth album, the first of three on Loma Vista, in 2014. With a chromatic purple-blue-pink palette and a gray ’do teased to the heavens, Clark delivered the most stylistically cohesive St. Vincent album yet — and for the first time on wax, she sounded like she was having a blast. St. Vincent won Clark a Grammy for best alternative music album, kicking off an active streak of her collecting at least one Grammy per proper studio release since. In 2014, Clark also spoke publicly about her queerness for the first time, telling Rolling Stone, “I believe in gender fluidity and sexual fluidity.”

With 2017’s Masseduction, Clark pivoted to electropop and paired it with neon-drenched, latex-heavy visuals, as well as some of her most personal songs yet. Co-produced by Jack Antonoff, the album (her first top 10 entry on the Billboard 200) expanded her creative circle to include a range of musicians such as Sounwave, Kamasi Washington, Jenny Lewis, Mike Elizondo, Pino Palladino and Cara Delevingne (the latter of whom Clark dated for a year and a half, briefly putting her in the tabloid spotlight). Masseduction singles “New York” and “Los Ageless” hit the Adult Alternative Airplay and Hot Rock & Alternative Songs charts, and the title track won her the Grammy for best rock song. Not that she’s in it for the accolades: “I’m a musician because I’m obsessed with making music,” Clark states. “If I wasn’t, God knows, I don’t think it would be pretty.”

As her profile grew, Clark earned her first GLAAD Media Award nomination for outstanding music artist in 2018; that June, she unleashed “Fast Slow Disco,” a dancefloor remix of one of Masseduction’s tracks, along with a music video where she cavorted with a throng of leather-clad men making out with one another. “Happy Pride,” she tweeted. “It was sweet of these boys to let me crash their party.”

Fittingly, the tune’s title was inspired by a text message exchange with Wendy Melvoin, whose romantic relationship with Lisa Coleman in Prince’s backing band The Revolution provided sorely needed representation in the ’80s. “Annie’s a real artist. It’s always satisfying to be friends and compatriots with people that you have respect for,” Melvoin says. “She’s extremely talented,” Coleman agrees. “[She’s] a real musician that was so influenced by what we did, and she had a reverence for us. It was easy to return that because she is so good.”

St. Vincent wearing Ultra Open Earbuds by @Bose and Maggi Simpkins.

Lenne Chai

By 2021’s Daddy’s Home, Clark had nothing left to prove, which might explain why the album — partially inspired by her father’s 2019 release from prison after he served time for a stock manipulation scheme — was her first where she looked backward for inspiration. (Then again, maybe she meant it literally when she titled her 2017-18 tour Fear the Future.) Steeped in ’70s rock, AM pop and queer camp, the album netted her another Grammy for best alternative music album and another GLAAD nomination for outstanding music artist. As a victory lap and era-appropriate tie-in, she supplemented her own headlining trek for the record with a stint opening for Roxy Music’s farewell tour.

Beyond Roxy Music and Byrne, Clark has amassed an enviable Rolodex of rock royalty. She performed alongside the surviving members of Nirvana at their 2014 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony; produced Sleater-Kinney’s 2019 album, The Center Won’t Hold, and co-starred with the band’s Carrie Brownstein in the trippy 2020 mockumentary The Nowhere Inn; contributed to the 2021 remix album McCartney III Imagined (even getting a phone call from the Beatle himself); and feted Eurythmics at the duo’s 2022 Songwriters Hall of Fame induction, performing “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).” Having worked with so many of her own musical heroes, she has also paid that forward, contributing to tracks by next-gen fans like Willow and Olivia Rodrigo.

“I’ve been a huge St. Vincent fan since I was a teenager. I think she’s such an inspiring artist and a wonderful person. I was so excited to bring her in to work on this song,” Rodrigo tells Billboard of co-writing “Obsessed” with Clark for the deluxe version of GUTS. “She added so many unique textures and sounds that I could’ve never thought of.”

Those inventive, meticulous methods stuck out to Willow when Clark guested on “Pain for Fun” from the former’s 2024 album, empathogen. “St. Vincent’s prodigious attention to detail is something that I have admired since hearing her for the first time at 12 years old,” Willow says. “To have had the opportunity to be in the same room with her, to witness and observe her process, is something that I will always hold close to my heart and something I will always refer back to for inspiration.”

“She’s an inspiration to me, but I can see [she is] to a lot of other singers and songwriters as well,” Byrne says. “And a somewhat underrated guitar goddess.” (Clark even has her own signature axe, a collaboration with Ernie Ball Music Man, which Jack White played on Saturday Night Live in 2018 and Rodrigo trotted out on her tour this year.)

Another one of those singer-songwriters is, of course, Taylor Swift. Alongside Antonoff and Swift, Clark wrote (and played guitar on) “Cruel Summer” from 2019’s Lover. After years of fan campaigns and three subsequent studio albums, Swift finally released “Cruel Summer” as a single in 2023; it topped the Billboard Hot 100 for four weeks and has spent more time on the chart than any of her other hits, earning an astounding 1 billion official on-demand U.S. streams, according to Luminate.

“I remain blown away by ‘Cruel Summer’ being the phenomenon that is it,” Clark says. “Not because it isn’t a great song. It’s indicative of the time we’re in, where a song from many albums ago, that wasn’t even a single at the time, the fans go, ‘No, this one — we pick this one.’ And then they march it up the charts. That’s completely a testament to her fan base being so powerful.”

While some critics and fans have described the rock-heavy, emotionally raw All Born Screaming as a return to form, the album also marks a few notable firsts for Clark. Though distributed by Virgin Music Group, it’s the inaugural release on her own label, Total Pleasure Records, which she calls “just a little cozy place for me.” She’s excited about plenty of young artists but shrugs off any label boss ambitions. “I never want to be the person who is like, ‘I’m so sorry, we can’t afford to pay for your video unless you shill for cat laxatives,’ ” she deadpans. “I’m not trying to be The Man to any talent that I love. It just means autonomy.”

Clark insists that “DIY till you die” is her guiding mantra on all fronts, from making music to mounting tours on a scalable level. “I more enjoy the creative side, but you have to be across all of it. It’s your career. You can’t just let someone tell you where you are going. And putting all those pieces together is fun for me.”

St. Vincent wearing Ultra Open Earbuds by @Bose and Maggi Simpkins.

Lenne Chai

Perhaps more significantly, All Born Screaming is also the first of her own albums on which she is credited as sole producer (though she has co-produced more than half of her discography).

“I don’t think I could have made this record any other way. I don’t think I would have written these songs or explored this stuff without the solitude,” she says. “Around 2019 [I thought], ‘OK, I eventually just want to produce my own work.’ When I was making Daddy’s Home, I started making a plan for my engineer, Cian Riordan, to make my studio proper — to get more into the engineering side, hone my chops and build a playground for myself. But if I’m honest, the seed was planted earlier, because by the time I was 14 or 15 I was recording myself in my bedroom.” (Clark’s studio is in Los Angeles; she splits her time among New York, L.A. and Texas.)

A 2023 study of popular songs by the Annenberg Inclusion Initiative found that just 3.4% of hits were produced by women in 2022, and Clark is still one of very few female producers finding success in the music business — with plenty more, she notes, deserving attention. “There are lots of women making their music DIY-style, and that is production,” she says. “My friend Cate Le Bon [who guests on All Born Screaming’s title track] is a great example of someone who produces herself and other people.” (The album also features drumming from Dave Grohl, Josh Freese and Warpaint’s Stella Mozgawa.)

When it comes to ways to increase LGBTQ+ inclusion in the industry, Clark is reluctant to provide any glib or easy answers. “The answer is, ‘Of course,’ but I can’t go, ‘If we only changed this policy.’ ” The Texas-raised Clark does not, however, hold back when asked about Republican Gov. Greg Abbott, who she says is waging “an absolute war on women and reproductive rights. That dude sucks. He sucks. I hate that dude.” For a brief moment, she sounds like an exasperated teenager ranting about her high school principal, but soon regains her poise. “What I love about Texas is the toughness and the grit. You can’t be too highfalutin. With love, they’ll knock you down a peg.” She looks thoughtful. “I did run away when I was 18, but at the same time, if you asked me to name parts of my identity, ‘Texan’ would be up there.”

St. Vincent wearing Ultra Open Earbuds by @Bose and Maggi Simpkins. CAMILLA AND MARC shirt, Nour Hammour coat, Zhilyova gloves, JW PEI shoes.

Lenne Chai

As an artist who has explored both identity and technology deeply, Clark is cautiously intrigued by the musical potential of artificial intelligence in the hands of artists. “The tool is as interesting as its holder,” she says, then flashes a mischievous half-smile. “In some ways, I’m more concerned about artists sounding like AI than I am [about] AI sounding like artists.”

Clark is far more troubled by a more established technology in the digital music era. “If you are a big pop artist, streaming is fine. But there is some music that reaches you very deeply but isn’t music that you put on every single day. I’m not going to listen to John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme every day. It’s one of the most pivotal records of my life, but I’m not going to stream it over and over,” she says. “Streaming incentivizes songs to be consumable over and over again. Now, certainly there’s great music you want to consume like that — but there’s a lot of music that’s excellent and doesn’t fall into that category. And those artists, because of streaming, are wilting on the vine.” (St. Vincent’s catalog has accumulated a respectable 394.6 million official ­on-demand U.S. streams.)

Aside from friends like Le Bon, there are plenty of modern artists who keep Clark jazzed about music’s future. “I love Rosalía,” she says, leaning forward in her chair. “I saw her show last year. It was just art. It was so thoughtfully done. Post-modern choreography, ­flamenco. Just excellent.” All Born Screaming includes “Sweetest Fruit,” a tribute to the late trans artist SOPHIE, whom Clark deeply admired (though fan reaction to its literal lyrics was mixed). British rapper Little Simz is another favorite, and she lights up when talking about Willow. “She’s unbelievable. Her knowledge base and depth of reference is deep and varied. She’s pulling all these things together and making them her own, which is exactly what an artist should do.”

Whether speaking about her fellow artists, the music industry or her queer identity, Clark is animated and engaged; the only time she seems at a loss is when talking about how she fills her time that isn’t spent making music.

“I listen to a lot of audiobooks. Which is so boring,” she murmurs. “I work out. So boring.” Does she cook for herself? “Girl, no. Even playing Zelda, I would make dubious food.” Watch TV? “I will maybe watch something to fall asleep. I rewatched 30 Rock recently. I am obsessed with Girls5eva. It’s all the sensibility of 30 Rock, but with deep musical references. It makes me so happy.” Foster any unusual hobbies? “I walked into this bar across from Electric Lady [Studios in New York], but it was the wrong place — it was a coffee shop that turns into a knitting hour. I got the f–k out of there.”

After nearly two decades of making music professionally, Clark doesn’t seem fatigued or disenchanted by a business that often frustrates uncompromising creatives. If anything, she’s finding it easier to “trust in the process” with seven albums under her beloved trench’s belt. “There’s going to be speed bumps, and there’s going to be days when you don’t want to get out of bed. ‘Ugh, I can’t even face myself.’ And other days where you’re like, ‘Yeah, I am crushing it, wow!’ ”

Calling those polar mood swings “cancers to excise,” Clark says “it’s a miracle” she gets anything done. “The whole thing is chasing this feeling of being lit up and confused but excited at the same time,” she says. “It’s a bunch of people blowing into the same thing to make a balloon and, eventually, it rises. I don’t know how anything happens. I really don’t. The whole thing is mysterious. But I know if I focus on this little thing that I love, it will be OK.”

This story will appear in the June 22, 2024, issue of Billboard.

When RIIZE goes out to dinner, it’s a 20-person affair.
On this particular Sunday evening, the pioneering South Korean mega-label SM Entertainment has reserved a private room at a hot spot in Los Angeles’ Koreatown popular with music artists for its new boy band. The six members file in around a long table — along with an SM-associated translator (who is occasionally assisted by two other team members), a publicist from RCA Records (an SM partner for RIIZE), a veteran manager from Seoul and eight additional crew members who sit in a nearby booth.

The Korean group is in town for its RIIZING DAY Fan-Con Tour tomorrow — a “fan-concert” where the group intersperses choreographed performances of its own K-pop hits with casual games, informal onstage chats among themselves and special covers of both K-pop classics and global boy band hits, like One Direction’s “One Thing.” It’s RIIZE’s first time headlining a show in the United States, but its third group visit to L.A. Before the May 20 concert, the group flew here in August to attend the city’s annual KCON K-pop mega-fest and also filmed two music videos in town: the jovial “Memories” (a pre-debut single that generated buzz for the group that month) and its official debut single, “Get a Guitar,” a slick, bubblegum earworm released in both Korean and English that’s now RIIZE’s most streamed song globally, with 219.6 million official on-demand streams since its September release, according to Luminate.

“Not even a year has passed since our debut, but so much has happened,” says RIIZE’s youngest member, 20-year-old Anton, as his bandmates nibble on naan bread and citrus-splashed hamachi crudo. “Back then, our group was, like, innocent, you know? Now, we’ve sort of adjusted to traveling and visiting other countries.”

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Shotaro

Munachi Osegbu

Sungchan

Munachi Osegbu

In fact, RIIZE’s members weren’t totally green when the group made its official debut on Sept. 4, 2023, through K-pop giant SM in a partnership with RCA. Shotaro and Sungchan had previously debuted in NCT, the ambitious boy band project that SM launched in 2016, becoming its two newest members in 2020 and contributing to Resonance, Pt. 1, NCT’s highest-charting Billboard 200 release. Two years later, SM’s board of directors moved to terminate the company’s production contract with founder Lee Soo-Man (from whom SM gets its name) in 2022 in an effort to shift SM away from Lee’s creative authority. In May 2023, Korean multimedia conglomerate Kakao became the company’s largest shareholder after a heated bidding war with K-pop titan HYBE (which initially bought Lee’s stake in the company but then sold it to Kakao during a tender offer) for access to SM’s nearly 30 years of K-pop glory, including an extensive catalog, dedicated divisions for nonmusic opportunities like acting, technology and the metaverse, as well as dozens of active artists — soon to include its newest addition, RIIZE.

Just days before Kakao became majority shareholder, SM CEO Jang Cheol-Hyuk revealed that as part of a company restructuring, NCT — originally pitched as a group with infinite members splintered into localized subunits worldwide — would no longer infinitely expand and that Shotaro and Sungchan would leave to debut in a new group, joining previously announced SM Rookies (the company’s team of trainees) Eunseok and Seunghan, along with other Korean and American members. In July 2023, excitement mounted when K-pop media outlets reported that the son of acclaimed Korean singer-songwriter-producer Yoon Sang — later revealed to be Anton — would also join the project.

Finally, on July 27, 2023, SM introduced RIIZE. The group (whose name is a portmanteau of “rise” and “realize”) launched its Instagram with 27 photos — casual selfies and mirror pics without the flashy fashion, perfect makeup or glossy finishes that often characterize K-pop photo shoots even on social media — revealing the seven-member lineup of Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Wonbin, Seunghan, Sohee and Anton. (Six are at dinner tonight; in November, SM placed Seunghan on “indefinite suspension,” though he is still listed as a RIIZE member on the label’s website.)

RIIZE has sought to present itself as more down-to-earth — a noticeable change from previous, high-concept SM artist launches like the supernatural-inspired boy band EXO; the girl group aespa, which sings about straddling the real and virtual worlds; and other larger-than-life K-pop idols the label has served up since the late 1990s. RIIZE describes its music as “emotional pop,” a phrase it uses, Anton says, “because we hope that people can relate to it emotionally. The members all do, and I think that’s what our fans want from us as well.”

Clockwise from top left: Wonbin, Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Anton, and Sohee.

Munachi Osegbu

But RIIZE differs from other K-pop outfits in ways that go beyond the aesthetic or concept. For one, its social media approach is far more hands-on than that of its contemporaries, who tend to have marketing-approved captions; @riize_official sprinkles comments across fans’ TikTok accounts. The members also filmed the #GetAGuitarChallenge with influencers including Merrick Hanna (who has 32.5 million followers on TikTok), reacted to tasting Indonesian snacks with Jerome Polin (8.2 million followers on Instagram) and shot charming content with South Korea’s most prominent openly gay celebrity, the tastemaker Hong Seok-Cheon, who predicted Wonbin as a “face” to watch in 2024.

“We have a concept called ‘real-time odyssey,’” Eunseok explains. “We post a lot of pictures of our daily life and intimate [moments] on social media.” Anton clarifies: “We don’t really think of it as a concept — we’re just trying to show our authentic selves.”

Unlike many of its peers, RIIZE also does not have a designated “leader,” even if the Tokyo-raised Shotaro — at 23, the group’s eldest and only Japanese member — naturally steps up. At dinner, he ensures everyone around him (including this reporter) has water and their drink of choice. He’s the first to speak at the meal and divulges the most about his musical tastes; Sam Smith is a favorite. To his left is his fellow ex-NCT member, Seoul-born Sungchan, 22, whose beaming smile helped him become a host of the weekly K-pop performance TV program Inkigayo while he was in NCT. One day, he hopes Pharrell Williams will collaborate on a track for RIIZE. Shotaro likens Sungchan to the color sky blue because he has “a very clear heart… and is very innocent.”

Sohee

Munachi Osegbu

Wonbin

Munachi Osegbu

RIIZE’s four other members sit across from the duo. Born and raised in Seoul, Eunseok, 23, prefers calm ballads and the music of Ed Sheeran. While his outside demeanor matches his musical taste, his bandmates reveal he has a more lighthearted side: As Sohee describes, Eunseok is known for giving “very random and fantastical” nonsensical nicknames to everyone he meets. Anton calls them “basically video-game character names,” which makes everyone laugh.

The 22-year-old Wonbin — or “Dark Bean,” as Eunseok has dubbed him, to the rest of RIIZE’s amusement — was born in Seoul but raised in South Korea’s southern port city of Ulsan; he digs Justin Timberlake’s 20/20 Experience-era singles like “Mirrors” and “Suit & Tie.” Baby-faced powerhouse vocalist Sohee, 20, grew up in Siheung, located in the country’s most populous province, Gyeonggi; he is not only “really bright,” Anton explains, “[but] his mindset is always really positive as well.”

Last is Anton, 20, son of singer Yoon Sang and the actress Shim Hye-Jin. While Anton has appeared on South Korean TV since childhood (Yoon Sang is based in South Korea), he was born in Boston and raised in New Jersey; growing up in the United States fostered his appetite for music discovery and exploration, which ultimately became the foundation for his K-pop career. “I don’t really think I have a favorite artist per se,” he says, soft-spoken but self-assured. “I just like to explore as many genres [as I can] and try to listen to a lot of different music even if I don’t understand the language. People who enjoy K-pop might not understand Korean.”

From left: Anton, Sohee, Wonbin, Eunseok, Shotaro, and Sungchan of RIIZE photographed May 21, 2024 in Los Angeles.

Munachi Osegbu

Anton’s musical philosophy encapsulates the growing mindset of the young audience with whom RIIZE, as well as SM and RCA, hope to connect. As U.S. listeners become increasingly interested in foreign-language music, RIIZE has earned 37.8 million official U.S. on-demand streams — contributing to 641.2 million globally — according to Luminate. And it hopes to continue expanding its fan base (known as BRIIZE, pronounced “breeze”) with the June 17 release of RIIZING – The 1st Mini Album. Its new single, “Boom Boom Bass,” incorporates the same hooky energy of “Get a Guitar” while adding shimmery disco vibes and an irresistible bassline. Sungchan and Wonbin both say it’s their favorite RIIZE song yet.

After five different K-pop releases topped the Billboard 200 last year, driven by K-pop fans’ love of physical product and labels delivering collectible album packages in multiple versions, RCA Records COO John Fleckenstein says the label is “absolutely focused on delivering physical versions for RIIZE” in the United States — but as just one way to elevate the group’s presence.

“The vision behind our global partnership was to marry what both our companies do best across all areas to bring additional opportunities, reach, resources and growth to support RIIZE,” Fleckenstein adds. “Our passion lies in exploring the intersection of music, art, culture and then connecting that to an audience. SM have been incredible partners who truly understand the market.”

Eunseok

Munachi Osegbu

Anton

Munachi Osegbu

As the members of RIIZE dip into Basque cheesecakes for dessert, they share their personal goals for the future, both near and distant. They hope that “Boom Boom Bass” can crack multiple Billboard charts and are looking forward to their first original Japanese-language single, “Lucky,” due in July, calling it “a perfect song for the summer.” Shotaro dreams of someday performing at the Super Bowl and the Billboard Music Awards.

RIIZE wants fans to understand that the Fan-Con Tour is only the beginning, and that the members plan to visit many countries. When Shotaro and Anton burst into tears during the band’s two sold-out dates at Tokyo’s Yoyogi National Gymnasium arena in May, it brought new meaning to the group’s “emotional pop” — and conveyed how much RIIZE wants an offline fan connection that is as strong as its online one.

“I really did not plan on crying whatsoever,” Anton reflects. “That was our biggest concert to date, and seeing the fans far away holding up our signs and stuff was just sort of overwhelming.” At the concert the day after dinner, the members manage not to break into tears — but their performance is no less heartfelt. Amid heart-stopping choreography, Anton pauses to address the audience. “We’ll work hard,” he says, “to become a RIIZE that BRIIZE can be proud of.”

At just 10 years old, Christopher Brent Wood’s ­metamorphosis into indie disruptor Brent Faiyaz began.
As he collected CDs by D’Angelo, Lauryn Hill and Joe, among other R&B/hip-hop artists, the youngster would steadily pore over album liner notes, absorbing the behind-the-scenes details of how his favorite albums were made. By middle school, he had set up his first home studio, with a USB mic and downloaded software — the start of his shift from music fan to music-maker.

“I was making money selling beats; that’s how I got a lot of my friends when I was younger,” Faiyaz, 28, recalls today of his teenage years in the Baltimore area. “It’d be like grown motherf–kers coming to the house to get beats off me. My parents were like, ‘Who are these grown adults coming by the house? What’s going on?’ ”

Faiyaz’s parents had once pushed him to attend college. But eventually, that morphed into, “Can you just please graduate [high school]?” Faiyaz recalls with a chuckle, “because my grades were so bad. It was like you can do something all day every day, but if it’s not bringing no money to the house, they figured you needed a plan B or C. But music was all I wanted to do. So I kind of had to prove them wrong.”

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Faiyaz has done just that. Since he began releasing his own music on SoundCloud over a decade ago, he has upended the contemporary R&B scene with his raw, frank lyrics and ’90s-vibed alt-R&B sound — and become a bona fide mainstream hit-maker in the process. After gaining national attention with his guest turn (alongside Shy Glizzy) on GoldLink’s multiplatinum hit “Crew,” Faiyaz dropped his debut studio album, Sonder Son, in 2017. His loyal fan base continued to grow, and he broke through on the Billboard 200 in 2020 with his EP F–k the World, which bowed at No. 20; two years later, his second studio album, Wasteland, debuted at No. 2 on the chart, powered by the platinum singles “Gravity” (with Tyler, The Creator) and “Wasting Time” (with Drake and The Neptunes). Faiyaz has earned 4.7 million equivalent album units in the United States and 6.5 billion official on-demand U.S. streams for songs on which he’s the lead artist, according to Luminate, and he has charted 13 songs on the Billboard Hot 100, 20 on Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs and 33 on Hot R&B Songs. Faiyaz’s solo catalog of songs on which he’s credited as a primary artist generated 2.16 billion on-demand audio streams (inclusive of user-generated content) in the U.S. over the past 12 months ending May 30, 2024, according to Luminate. That’s the most among acts whose catalogs are distributed independently and outside of the major-owned indie distribution system.

It’s Faiyaz’s unwavering work ethic, creative visual flair and keen entrepreneurial instincts that have helped him craft one of independent music’s biggest recent success stories. In 2015, he and his manager, Ty Baisden, co-founded the label Lost Kids, which released F–k the World and Wasteland, and their success caught the attention of music distributor UnitedMasters and its founder and CEO, Steve Stoute. The company partnered with Faiyaz in 2023 to launch creative agency ISO Supremacy, and Faiyaz’s first ISO album, Larger Than Life, arrived that October, reaching No. 11 on the Billboard 200. The same year, he embarked on his F*ck the World, It’s a Wasteland world tour, playing theaters and grossing $5.3 million over 18 shows, according to Billboard Boxscore.

“A lot of it was timing,” the soft-spoken Faiyaz reflects today over his lunch of Mongolian lamb at a tony Beverly Hills restaurant. “I was fortunate enough to be in a space where I had the mainstream hit record with ‘Crew,’ and then I also had the underground sh-t. So I was able to tackle the super music heads and the mainstream audience all at one time. By the time Wasteland dropped, it was just perfect timing.”

Wales Bonner suit and Ray-Ban sunglasses.

Austin Hargrave

Of course, for him to take advantage of such perfect timing, he had to put in the work first. After graduating from high school in 2013, Faiyaz (whose stage surname means “artistic leader” in Arabic and was inspired by a close high school friend who’s Muslim) relocated to Charlotte, N.C. While he worked jobs at a grocery store and Dunkin’, Faiyaz continued to record and upload music on SoundCloud for his budding fan base. That’s where his kindred indie spirit — and eventual manager and business partner — Baisden discovered him. But it was Faiyaz’s singing, not his rapping, that intrigued Baisden.

“I clicked on a song called ‘Natural Release,’ ” says Baisden, who broke into the business as a manager in 2008 before co-founding multisector firm COLTURE in 2018. “It was the only song that Brent was singing and had more plays than all the other songs. While it gave me a whole wave like Frank Ocean, the way Brent’s tone felt made it his own world. I was like, ‘Man, this is fire,’ because he raps how he talks but he doesn’t sing how he talks. It’s a completely different audio experience.”

But despite his love of R&B, Faiyaz didn’t initially see himself as “built for R&B singing. I wasn’t really a take-my-shirt-off-and-show-my-abs kind of guy [onstage], so I didn’t think I was suited for it. And Ty said, ‘That doesn’t necessarily have to be what you do.’ So I just took the things that I would have been rapping about and put it in a way where I could sing it.”

Givenchy shirt and jacket.

Austin Hargrave

Baisden flew to Charlotte to meet Faiyaz, and the pair ultimately joined forces as founding partners in Lost Kids, named for Faiyaz’s high school crew; he has the letters tattooed on his knuckles. “The whole ideology of Lost Kids came from [Brent],” Baisden says. He handles everything related to Faiyaz’s business; Faiyaz maintains control over all creative aspects of his career. (“He isn’t in the studio with me; he isn’t picking my singles,” he says of Baisden.) As 50/50 partners in Lost Kids, Baisden and Faiyaz have — beyond music and publishing — also invested in startup companies, real estate and the Show You Off grant program, which supports Black women entrepreneurs. In a full-circle moment, Faiyaz’s mother, Jeanette, is also involved in Lost Kids’ philanthropic efforts.

“If we hadn’t met each other,” Faiyaz says of Baisden, “we would both definitely still be successful in our respective lanes because we’re both so driven and focused with similar visions. We’re learning from each other, but we didn’t go into this trying to do each other’s jobs. That’s what makes our alliance so special.”

As he and Faiyaz started working together, Baisden laid down one cardinal rule out of the gate for independent success: “That budget is the Bible.” Indie artists especially “have to really understand that,” he says today. “Brent would get mad because I’d say, ‘We can’t afford that, it’s too much. We’ll go out of business.’ ”

“Oh, man, it was the worst,” Faiyaz recalls with a laugh. “I was so focused on creativity that my ideas were outrageous. For me, a budget limited my creativity; it was like, ‘Pop the balloon.’ ”

“The funny thing,” Baisden explains, “[is] that when you look back today at our 2018 video for ‘Gang Over Luv’ [an early Faiyaz single], it only cost $50,000. But we still had Brent on a dirt bike, flying on a plane, the plane blowing up… it was incredible for being shot independently. There weren’t a lot of videos, but those that were shot were good investments. And the [budget] backlash at the time grew a smarter executive.” Now Faiyaz says he knows not only how to work with a budget but “how to maximize off the bare minimum — probably one of the most important things I’ve learned.”

When Faiyaz began truly blowing up in 2020, he found himself among a formidable contingent of male crooners including PartyNextDoor, Bryson Tiller, Lucky Daye and fellow newcomer Giveon. His supple tenor, which effortlessly slides into falsetto range in a way that’s reminiscent of R&B’s ’90s heyday, helped him stake his claim.

“I love things that sound throwback but are unique,” says Grammy Award-winning producer No ID, who collaborated with Faiyaz on Wasteland. “Brent’s music gives me a lot of the energy I felt from what I call the basement crew back then with Jodeci, Timbaland and Static. It has a gospel overtone, but it’s not gospel. There’s a tension in it. But it’s not overly soft even when he says ‘soft’ things.”

Brent Faiyaz photographed April 11, 2024 in Los Angeles. Stüssy x Levi’s pants.

Austin Hargrave

That tension stems from Faiyaz’s raw, fearless lyrics, which explore subjects ranging from life post-pandemic and the pressures of fame to romance and self-love, paired with his melodious and innovative blend of R&B, Afrobeats, rap, pop and other sonic influences. “His music always has a little edge to it. I love witty lyrics and syncopation,” No ID adds. “It’s just a great mixture for me. And a lot of people don’t have that naturally.”

Because of that edge, especially in its lyrics, some listeners have labeled his music “toxic,” pointing to songs like “F*ck the World” (“Your n—a caught us texting/You said, ‘Baby, don’t be mad, you know how Brent is’ ”) and “WY@” from Larger Than Life (“I be doing sh-t I really shouldn’t do for real/That’s why I always tell you to come through for real”). But Faiyaz says he’s simply drawing on real life, whether his own experiences, those of friends or just “keeping my ear to the street and checking the temperature.”

“R&B music is soulful and reality-driven,” he continues. “I want to portray the good, the bad, the ugly… I want to have a song for every situation you could possibly be going through. Life can be toxic sometimes, and I have records for that. That word tends to be the narrative because of the shock involved when people say, ‘Man, I can’t believe you said that.’ But people who have been following my music know that for every toxic record, there’s a heartfelt record, a sweet record. But being toxic was never the vision or intentional identity I was trying to portray. I’m making songs that to me are true.”

The initially shy Faiyaz grows impassioned as he discusses his love of songwriting. Prince and Stevie Wonder first sparked it in him, but he also names Max Martin, Dolly Parton, Kurt Cobain and more from far beyond R&B and hip-hop as influences. “When it comes to songwriting, genre doesn’t matter,” he says. “I grew up on a lot of different music, and I’m big on lyrics. I love writing music because it’s cathartic, my biggest form of release. If I leave it on a song, I don’t have to walk around with it.”

Faiyaz has considered, more than once, what a nonindependent career might look like. Early on, he pitched himself to major-label A&R executives. “The idea of going to a label and doing a deal was only something that I knew to do because that’s what I’d seen done so many times,” he reflects. “They offered me deals that I wasn’t trying to sign: Giving me a percentage of some music that I made before I even came to [them] just didn’t sit right. There was no deep spiritual stance or me planting a flag of independence. It was just, ‘This deal doesn’t make sense, so I’m not going to do it.’ ”

By 2016, multiple labels under the majors were courting him. And following the one-two punch of F–k the World and Wasteland, they came calling again. At that point, it had been several years since Faiyaz had last met with executives on that side of the industry — so despite “already having a grudge” from that first experience, he was willing to hear them out. This time around, however, he kept another of Baisden’s key rules of independence in mind: Know your value.

“It kills me when labels sign an artist knowing who that artist is creatively, but then they try to dictate their music and other things,” he explains. “Nothing is going to stifle your creativity more than having to say yes to some lame sh-t that you don’t want to do or being told no to some really cool sh-t that you want to do. It’s really no deeper than that for me. So I went with my gut.”

Isabel Marant jacket, shirt, pants and shoes.

Austin Hargrave

That brought Faiyaz to UnitedMasters and Steve Stoute. “Brent was unapologetically independent prior to me meeting him,” Stoute recalls. “In fact, that was what made me so interested in him. I knew that he was turning down major labels left and right. He had built a very strong team and infrastructure with his manager, Ty. So what he was looking for was a partner to provide him financial capital to go into other ventures that were creative.”

In a partnership deal signed in May 2023 — which a source close to the situation told Billboard at the time was valued at nearly $50 million — the pair announced the launch of Faiyaz’s own creative agency specializing in “visual and sonic art”: ISO Supremacy (ISO stands for “in search of”). “I liked the model, the creative freedom,” says Faiyaz, who serves as CEO. “And I was able to keep working with the people I’d been working with.” At the agency, “from the artists we work with to the creatives and directors we have on board, everything is pretty much about just what we think is cool [or are] hearing word-of-mouth spreading about something that is fire — and then we see how we’re going to translate and elevate this sh-t to the world.”

“Brent is a very talented musician and visual artist,” Stoute says. “He’s a very intelligent businessman whose contributions to the music business and independent artists have been profound.” One of those artists is R&B/hip-hop singer-songwriter Tommy Richman, ISO Supremacy’s first signee — brought to Faiyaz’s attention by his high school friend and ISO partner/COO Darren Xu — through a joint venture with PULSE Records. (Faiyaz’s relationship with PULSE dates back to 2016, when he entered his first publishing deal with PULSE Music Group after moving to Los Angeles; he renewed it in 2022.) Following his August 2023 signing, Richman — also managed by Xu and who opened Faiyaz’s recent tour and appeared on Larger Than Life — rocketed to No. 2 on the Hot 100 in May with his first single, “Million Dollar Baby.”

“You soak in a lot,” Richman says of his time spent with Faiyaz. “I feel like if I didn’t move with Brent this past year — with the shit that’s happening right now — I would crash and burn. Being with him at clubs or shows, seeing how he interacts with people and how he carries himself, I picked up on a lot. You’d think that hanging out with somebody like that, you’d get a big ego. But honestly, it has humbled me more. He’s just a normal f–king guy from Maryland who just makes beautiful songs.”

As with Baisden, PULSE Music Group senior vp/head of creative Ashley Calhoun and now with Xu, Stoute and Richman, Faiyaz’s business interactions reflect how he has prioritized building long-term relationships as an independent artist. “I’m about the people more than I am about anything else,” Faiyaz says. “If I can run with you and kick it with you when there’s no business being discussed, then you’re somebody I want to do business with.”

Givenchy shirt, jacket, pants and shoes.

Austin Hargrave

Since wrapping his most recent tour in November, Faiyaz, who lives in Miami, has been enjoying some downtime. But that doesn’t keep him from enthusiastically reeling off a list of projects he’s currently developing, ranging from films, commercials and signing more artists to further expanding his clothing brand, NUWO (an acronym, in keeping with his indie ethos, for Not Unless We Own). He’s even picking up a long-forgotten passion again: drawing, which he last did in a class he received a scholarship for at the Maryland Institute College of Art when he was 8. When it comes to creation of any kind, Faiyaz says, “I love everything about the ideation process, every piece of it. Then once it gets to the point of consumption, I’m past it and moving on to the next.”

As our lunch winds down and the restaurant becomes quiet, our waiter returns with the culinary director in tow: It turns out that both are major-league Faiyaz fans. “Thanks for coming,” the director says with palpable excitement. “I wish you’d been at Coachella. Keep doing your thing; you’re killing it!”

Faiyaz seems surprised to be treated like a rock star. “Thank you, man. Appreciate you,” he responds politely, seeming to register a gamut of emotions that evolve from slightly surprised to humble to quietly moved as he agrees to the duo’s tentative request for a photo. But that brief exchange encapsulates just how far Faiyaz has come in his unwavering quest to own all facets of his career — and to telegraph that message to aspiring artists and listeners alike.

“My role musically and artistically, that’s not really up for me to interpret,” Faiyaz says matter-of-factly. “There are still a lot more things I want to learn. But now I’m realizing how important it was to break the mold so that people can see my story, see what we did and say, ‘All right, I can do that. It’s just another way to go about it. It doesn’t really have to be so black and white.’ That has been my role: to usher in this new wave of creative freedom.”

Additional reporting by Shira Brown and Carl Lamarre.

This story will appear in the June 8, 2024, issue of Billboard.

It’s a sunny May afternoon in Miami’s lush Coral Gables neighborhood, and Camila Cabello greets me at her family’s one-story home accompanied by a small menagerie: four dogs — including her golden retriever, Tarzan, and German shepherd, Thunder — along with her rescued cockatoo, Percy.
Cabello is home “to recharge” amid a hectic few days that included time in California and will soon take her to New York for the Met Gala. But today, with her messy pigtails, Daisy Duke shorts and silver flip-flops, Cabello looks more like a college girl on break than a major pop star about to release her fourth solo album — a fearless artistic statement coming June 28 titled C,XOXO. Her father washes the driveway, her mother offers me cafecito, and her aunt plays with the dogs.

Cabello will receive the Global Impact award at Billboard’s Latin Women in Music, produced by and airing on Telemundo on June 9.

“Let’s go to lunch — I’ll drive!” Cabello exclaims as she grabs her tote. The 27-year-old got her license just two years ago and learned to drive during the pandemic; as we hop into her white Tesla — nicknamed “Tessie” — she admits that getting behind the wheel (with a good album or podcast on the stereo) is her favorite form of stress relief. She takes us to Pura Vida, one of her favorite local health spots, where we sit down outside with summer chicken bowls. “Girl, it’s this Met Gala coming up… I can’t wait to stuff my face after,” she jokes.

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With her still fairly new platinum blonde tresses (a fresh ’do she debuted on social media in February), Cabello largely goes incognito; some passersby seem to recognize her but are perhaps too shy to approach. Just one screams, “Camila, I love you!” — a reminder that while Cabello might periodically crash at her parents’ house, she’s still a global superstar. But while she jokes that her new look has the side benefit of granting her some anonymity in public, she explains that it has a deeper meaning.

“The voice that I found with my new album has this big baddie energy vibe,” she explains animatedly. “Part of that spirit is taking risks, not giving a f–k and doing whatever you want. I think the blonde was me staying true to that feeling. With the hair, it was like, ‘How do I tell people, visually, that this is my new era?’ Sometimes you need the physicality to let them know, ‘Oh, this is a new thing, a new character.’ ”

CD1974 courtesy of Retail Pharmacy top, SHAY earrings and rings.

Erica Hernández

On March 27, Cabello unleashed the first taste of what C,XOXO might bring: the Playboi Carti-featuring “I Luv It,” co-produced by Spanish hit-maker El Guincho (Rosalía) and Jasper Harris (Jack Harlow, Doja Cat). “I Luv It” samples Gucci Mane (“Lemonade”), interpolates a 2011 Rihanna loosie (“Cockiness [Love It]”) — and has a hyperpop aesthetic that marked a significant departure from the more conventional pop (and more recently Latin-influenced) sound that made Cabello a household name, first as a member of Fifth Harmony, then as a solo artist.

The unexpected track was also significant for another reason: It was Cabello’s first Interscope Records release after leaving Epic Records, her label home of nearly a decade where she had been since Fifth Harmony’s debut and released her first three solo albums — Camila, Romance and Familia — between 2018 and 2022.

Reactions to “I Luv It” on social media were mixed, and the song debuted and peaked at No. 81 on the Billboard Hot 100. Still, the song (and its somewhat unhinged vibes) piqued interest in Cabello’s next musical chapter. “The unpredictability of it is so different for me,” she says. “It’s such a kick-the-door-down moment, sonically, that it makes me feel strong and powerful. At least for me, in this stage of my life, it would feel so unfulfilling to just have a song that was big but felt like something that I’ve already done before. That brings me no joy. I would rather have a song that’s weird and be new territory to me.”

While the strangeness of “I Luv It” encapsulates Cabello’s new era, it was a different track that truly set the tone for the C,XOXO sessions. “At first, we played around with different genres, trying to find the sonic world the album lives in,” she explains. “ ‘Chanel No. 5’ really cracked open the album. For me, as a writer, that was the voice I wanted for the album: coy, cheeky and kind of devious.”

Gucci jacket, SHAY earrings, Harlot Hands rings.

Erica Hernández

On “Chanel No. 5,” Cabello sings between trippy piano interludes, her falsetto distorted, about being a “cute girl with a sick mind.” At one point she even raps — she has recently taken inspiration from “c–ty, cocky girl rap” like Flo Milli and Baby Tate, she explains.

“We realized we hit this key transition in the process,” says Harris, who co-produced the album, of the track. “That’s the first song we knew was very C,XOXO, and creating every song forward, we would ask if it felt as true as ‘Chanel.’ It was our north star.” (“Chanel No. 5” will be released pre-album drop as a fan track.)

Cabello, El Guincho and Harris devoted most of 2023 to working on the album — in New York, Los Angeles and the Bahamas but primarily Miami — and along the way, she had another creative epiphany: Her previous sets all had a why, a when and a who at their center, but never a where. C,XOXO would: It’s a love letter to Miami.

Cabello wasn’t always a Miami girl, but her journey here — a city full of sounds and culture enriched by immigrants — was a big part of what ultimately made her one.

Born in Havana, Cuba, she moved to Mexico City with her parents at age 6 and ultimately arrived in Miami with her mother (her father joined almost two years later). Her mom, who had been an architect in Cuba, worked in the shoe department at Marshalls; her dad washed cars at Dolphin Mall. Today, they run a successful contracting company called Soka Construction (named after Camila and her younger sister, Sofia).

In ninth grade, Cabello auditioned for The X Factor, where she eventually joined contestants Ally Brooke, Normani, Lauren Jauregui and Dinah Jane to form Fifth Harmony. With Cabello in the fold, the girl group — one of the most commercially successful ever — went platinum with its first two albums, in 2015 and 2016, and notched a top five Hot 100 hit with the Ty Dolla $ign-featuring “Work From Home.”

Erica Hernández

Amid Fifth Harmony’s success, Cabello started exploring opportunities outside the group. In 2015, she teamed with Shawn Mendes for “I Know What You Did Last Summer,” which cracked the top 20 of the Hot 100; the following year, she released “Bad Things” with Machine Gun Kelly, which went to No. 4. In December 2016, Fifth Harmony announced Cabello’s departure from the group on social media. “After 4 and a half years of being together, we have been informed via her representatives that Camila has decided to leave Fifth Harmony,” the other four members stated. “We wish her well.”

Cabello quickly flourished on her own: Her first three solo albums all reached the top 10 of the Billboard 200, and she has logged 21 Hot 100 entries as a solo artist, plus picked up two Latin Grammys. All the while, she continued notching star collaborations, like “Hey Ma,” an early-2017 teamup with Pitbull and J Balvin from the Fate of the Furious soundtrack. But her solo career really took off in August of that year with the Young Thug-featuring “Havana,” which climbed to No. 1 on the Hot 100 the following January. Her second Hot 100 chart-topper followed two years later: the steamy duet “Señorita” alongside Mendes, with whom she was in a much-photographed, two-year relationship.

Still, Cabello hasn’t yet delivered her lasting, full-length statement — the one that strongly defines her creative ethos and is entirely her own. Her latest album, 2022’s Familia, scored a top 40 hit with the Ed Sheeran-featuring “Bam Bam,” but it was Cabello’s lowest-charting solo project. (Her feature film Cinderella the previous year — a splashy starring role that could’ve further boosted her profile — received, at best, middling reviews.) In September 2022, Cabello left Epic to sign with Interscope — home to young stars like Billie Eilish and Olivia Rodrigo, who have become some of the biggest names in pop music by unapologetically establishing strong musical identities. With C,XOXO, Cabello is poised to potentially do the same.

“This was the first time she had the chance to decide on her own record label,” says Cabello’s longtime manager, Roger Gold of Gold Music Management. “[Epic was] wonderful and super supportive, but there’s a difference between being signed to a label without your own selection process and making decisions and then really getting to do that for the first time. It was a big deal for her to find people who deeply wanted to work with her, respected her and understood her. [Interscope] truly makes us feel like we’re the only artist on the label sometimes.”

“She’s the kind of artist who doesn’t compromise,” says Michelle An, Interscope Geffen A&M president and head of creative strategy. “It sounded like Camila wanted a label team that really gets into the weeds of everything. What are the big looks with the [digital service provider] partners? What is the strategy with radio? How are we implementing it internationally? She’s the boss of the boardroom, and she can tell us how she feels and how she wants to market. She’s really embracing the fact that she has a big team that operates like a boutique.”

No Sesso dress, SHAY earrings.

Erica Hernández

That level of label support, Gold says, allowed Cabello to treat C,XOXO as the kind of creative departure she had never explored before. “She’s feeling very confident in her womanhood, owning her own power,” he says, “and feeling like this is her time to bravely say the things she wants to say.” It may have been a sonic jolt and, to some fans, an outlier, but “I Luv It” was no red herring.

On C,XOXO, Cabello’s musical hallmarks remain — her hypnotic falsetto, her vulnerable ballads, her heartfelt songwriting — but in an entirely different sonic context that now blends hip-hop, Afrobeats, R&B, reggaetón and electronic music. They’re the sounds of Miami itself, vividly evoking the scenes of the city: driving past the clubs on Collins Avenue in Miami Beach or through bustling, artsy Wynwood on a busy weekend.

“So much of the inspiration for this album was driving, listening to music, rolling the windows down and hearing what people in the city are listening to,” Cabello says. “The voice she was using as a writer felt very much like the city itself,” El Guincho adds. “I thought it was a very interesting angle to have Camila represent her city strongly in a pop album context, which are usually very displaced and decentralized.”

Because the album was made almost entirely in Miami, Cabello says she looked at the city “with binoculars and extra-close attention. Sonically, it feels like it’s a Miami art piece.” For her palette, Cabello drew on a diverse group of collaborators to add unique colors, including Carti, Lil Nas X, The-Dream, fellow Floridians City Girls and BLP Kosher ­— and, most notably, Drake. That much-discussed (and paparazzi-snapped) jet ski adventure Drake and Cabello took in the Turks and Caicos Islands last year? They were finishing up a track together.

“He’s the f–king GOAT, so it felt like shooting for the stars,” Cabello recalls of initially approaching the Canadian rapper by sliding into his Instagram DMs. “I showed him the album when I felt comfortable enough and he really liked it. [The feature] came out of a nontransactional place. He had this idea of a song called ‘Hot Uptown,’ and it just felt like I was in the city. I was in Miami.”

ABLONDI dress

Erica Hernández

The flirtatious, Caribbean-infused track (which until their Turks meetup was, according to Harris, the only album cut created with a remote collaborator) isn’t Drake’s only C,XOXO appearance. On the nearly two-minute-long interlude “Uuugly,” sequenced immediately after “Hot Uptown,” he sings over soft synth beats and Cabello’s ghostly backing vocals. According to Harris, the interlude was Drake’s idea: “He wanted to do one more thing for the album.”

“Why does he have his own song? Because selfishly, I just want to hear Drake on my own album,” Cabello says with a laugh. “I love that for me — it’s like that rebellious mood. Who says I can’t do that? It’s Drake talking his sh-t.”

Another ballsy move for Cabello: This is the first time she has written all her lyrics and lyrical melodies for an album, taking full responsibility for the ideas and concepts behind them. “She’s fast, curious, has great instincts for melody, is strong with her opinions but also open for them to be challenged. She’s pretty much a freestyler with great first takes,” El Guincho says. The producer “really believed in me to take on the writing,” Cabello says. “That felt good and important to me. It makes me feel different when the whole body of work is purer, my thoughts and my taste in words. I think that’s why it sounds so cohesive, because it really feels like me.”

Today, at Pura Vida, Cabello pulls out her phone and opens a Pinterest board she created last fall. It has movie stills from Spring Breakers, girls wearing balaclava masks, long manicured nails, BMX bikes, photos of the city at night — all conjuring the quintessential DGAF Miami girl energy that Cabello telegraphs on the cover of C,XOXO, which features the sweaty-haired star with heavily mascaraed, just-out-the-club lashes, licking an electric blue lollipop, her tongue stained with its fluorescent color.

“She had specific memories of Miami and growing up there,” An says. “She described driving through the tunnels, with [their] very specific yellow lighting that you don’t see anywhere else. She described a specific hue of blue at the beaches and was focused on blue hour. The blonde hair was also a big deal. The party culture. She spent a lot of time trying to get us to understand the visual world of Miami.”

Erica Hernández

As she honed the album’s voice and vision, Cabello started dressing differently, always wearing lip gloss, fully embracing her bold new persona. “It was important for me on this album to feel that way,” she explains. “Pop music is so uncomplicated — it’s very one-toned. In a weird way, this album shows these chaotic, sometimes toxic scenarios, and I think we as humans are like that — we’re messy, complicated, super twisted.”

“There’s a lot of people that want you to be formulaic in this business,” Gold says. “There’s pressure in general to not rock the boat too much: If something isn’t broken, don’t fix it. Camila is not that type of artist.”

With C,XOXO finished, Cabello has some time to unwind and focus on herself. She finally started watching Breaking Bad; she’s currently into cold plunges; and she’s maximizing the time that she spends in chancletas (flip-flops).

“It’s when I feel the freest. I just want my toes to be free,” she confesses with a smirk. “I hate heels, I hate sneakers, I just want to be in chancletas all the time. This is actually the first time that I’ve gone to an interview in chancletas, and I feel that this album has given me the permission to do that.”

C,XOXO also allowed her to embrace her personal relationships. Simply being able to hang out with her friends at home enriched the creative process, she says: “That energy of being with your friends and that girl gang vibe felt so sick to me.”

That vibe particularly comes through on “Dade County Dreaming,” the final track she recorded for C,XOXO. Inspired by its namesake county, the collaboration with Miami hip-hop duo City Girls (who Cabello connected with through her sound engineer) captures the essence of both the album and who Cabello is today: a city girl herself, having fun and living life. The hard-hitting track — with its ’90s freestyle undertones, haunting piano lines and geographic name drops — was, Cabello says, “the missing piece on the album [because] City Girls represent Miami so hard.”

Erica Hernández

Just weeks ahead of releasing C,XOXO, Cabello tells me she doesn’t have any expectations. “Many things can happen, and they are out of my control,” she says. But she’s ready to face the feedback with the clarity and maturity she has cultivated in the 12 years since her Fifth Harmony debut.

“[When I was starting out], I wish I knew that not everybody is going to like me, and it has nothing to do with me,” she admits. “That affected me a lot in the beginning. When you’re that young all you want is acceptance and love, and you can’t understand when people don’t like you. You take it so personally, and it makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong. Once you get older, you realize that people’s reactions have nothing to do with you, and you don’t have to take it so personally and be affected by it. I’m way more at peace with it today.”

On an ordinary day, she’ll go to the beach, read a book, invite her friends to her condo in Sunny Isles for dinner, sip a Bacardi and sparkling water, put on a cute outfit and go dancing at Swan, a chic Euro-style spot in the luxurious Miami Design District, or Dirty Rabbit, an edgy Wynwood dance club. After a night out, she’ll make a mandatory stop at the 24-hour Pinecrest Bakery for some croquetas. Even if she’s tired, she pushes herself to go out and won’t hold back from dancing with a cute guy if she feels a vibe. “I’m living the Sex and the City life, but Miami,” she says with a laugh. But really, it’s the C,XOXO life.

“To me, it’s about going out more, going to more parties and just being a bit more fearless and rebellious,” she muses. “Before, I would go out and not care about what I looked like. If I felt kind of ugly, it was whatever — but now, I always want to feel pretty for myself. It’s about really enjoying life, and I always think to myself, that’s what sensuality is all about. It’s a sensory thing: enjoying the food you eat, enjoying putting on a few outfits in the mirror, enjoying the senses of being alive. It’s about taking in that baddie energy.”

This story will appear in the June 1, 2024, issue of Billboard.

When Lainey Wilson played ­Australia for the first time in March, she made sure to meet the country’s animal ambassadors: She held a koala; she pet a kangaroo. But it wasn’t all furry fun.
“I got crapped on by a bird twice,” Wilson says in her thick Louisiana drawl, shaking her head in bemused disbelief. “In the exact same spot. I heard it was good fortune, so I was like, ‘Go ahead. Do what you got to do, bird.’ ”

But if there’s anyone who doesn’t need luck, it’s Wilson. With a perseverance and grit that’s reflected in her music, the ascendant 31-year-old country star has made her own. After she moved to Nashville in 2011, Wilson endured a decade of disheartening struggles — including seven American Idol rejections. But over the past two-and-a-half years, she has broken records and reached new milestones at a staggering pace — all without compromising her traditional country sound.

Trending on Billboard

When “Save Me,” her urgent duet with Jelly Roll, reached No. 1 on Billboard’s Country Airplay chart in December, only six weeks had passed since her solo hit, the coming-of-age tale “Watermelon Moonshine,” had summited the list — the shortest stint between No. 1s for a female artist in the chart’s 34-year history. “Watermelon Moonshine” appeared on Wilson’s most recent album, 2022’s Bell Bottom Country (Broken Bow Records/BMG), which took home both the Academy of Country Music (ACM) and Country Music Association Awards for album of the year, as well as the Grammy for best country album — only the ninth record ever to complete that trifecta. And at November’s CMA Awards, Wilson became the first woman to win entertainer of the year since Taylor Swift in 2011 and the first artist since Garth Brooks in 1991 to win best new artist one year and entertainer of the year the next.

At times, the rush has been overwhelming. “I do feel like the 10 years of nothing happening slightly prepared me, but I don’t think you can ever really fully prepare yourself for everything coming at once, and you’re just trying to hold on for dear life,” Wilson says.

“Sometimes when you’re moving that fast, maybe artistically you’re not ready. But she spent 10 years honing her craft,” says Jon Loba, BMG’s president of frontline recordings for North America, who signed Wilson in 2018. “The music was there, the personality was there, the performance was there. So in a sense, that happened overnight, but it has been a long build. It’s just the awards and the recognition have all come in an accelerated fashion.”

Georges Chakra suit, House of Emmanuele earrings.

Joelle Grace Taylor

One line in particular from Wilson’s acceptance speech for female artist of the year at the ACM Awards last May encapsulates her personal credo: “If you’re going to be a dreamer, you better be a doer.” And Wilson is nothing if not a doer. On this late-March morning, she has flown 14 hours on a commercial flight from Sydney to Los Angeles, landing at LAX at 7:30 a.m. and coming straight to Pasadena for this interview and its associated all-day photo shoot, even showering on location instead of first stopping at her hotel.

Getting a caffeine jolt from an iced brown sugar oatmeal shaken espresso from Starbucks, she sits on a bench in the lush backyard as birds chirp. Clad in a cozy, loose-fitting sweatsuit, Wilson pulls her knees up against her chest to shield against the slight morning chill. She’s not wearing any makeup, her long blonde hair sticking out from under a ball cap, her bare feet still sunburned from sitting in a Sydney park.

Wilson’s relaxed vibe contrasts markedly with the electric buzz she says she’s still feeling from the reception she received in Australia. “All I could think about was little 9-year-old Lainey just wanting to write music about my life and how in the world could somebody on the other end of the world relate to it,” she reflects. “It just goes to show you that we’re all a lot more alike than you think.”

Growing up in tiny Baskin, La. (population 200), 9 was a big age for Wilson. It was when she wrote her first song, “Lucky Me,” while at a sleepover with a friend; when she got her first horse; when she went to the Grand Ole Opry for the first time, where she saw Bill Anderson, Crystal Gayle, Phil Vassar and Little Jimmy Dickens. “My daddy actually still has the ticket stub,” she says. “He put it in the lockbox.” And it was when she first knew that one day she would perform on that stage. “My sister was asleep on the church pew like she could care less,” she says. “I remember eating popcorn and thinking, ‘Oh, I’m going to do this.’ ”

She worked her way through high school as a Hannah Montana impersonator, learning how to entertain audiences at places like St. Jude Children’s Hospital in Memphis and realizing she was “born” to perform in the process. Wilson, who calls herself a “fifth-generation’s farmer’s daughter,” combined that desire with the whatever-it-takes work ethic she inherited from her father. “It definitely has to do with coming from a farming community, getting up and planting those seeds and watching them grow,” she says of the diligence she applies to her career. “I really do view it as ‘I’m a song farmer.’ I just try to take care of what I have, and I take a lot of pride in what we’ve grown.”

By 2011, Wilson had moved to Nashville, where her career as a singer-songwriter started germinating. But with a traditional sound out of step with the pop-dominated country in vogue, she had to survive years of setbacks before reaping her first rewards. She hit a low point in 2014: On her third year living in a camper trailer, career stagnant, the man she was dating impregnated another woman, and Wilson’s producer, who was letting her live in his studio parking lot, died. “It was a lot of dark moments in my life,” she recalls, “and I just felt not worthy.”

(Years later, she would draw on that challenging time when she collaborated with Jelly Roll on “Save Me” and its desperate yearning-for-salvation theme. “I love Lainey’s ability to be vulnerable, and I wondered if that would translate on the song,” Jelly Roll says. “Lainey has such an authentic voice [that] I felt if she could connect with the song, then she could share these lyrics from a woman’s point of view.”)

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Still, even amid those struggles, there were bright spots, like when her pal Luke Combs cut a song they co-wrote for an EP he released before he got signed. (Wilson, who considers herself first and foremost a songwriter, has also co-written songs cut by Chrissy Metz, Flatland Cavalry and Thompson Square, among others.) While working on her songwriting, she also started developing a signature country-hippie look, with bell bottoms and a wide-brimmed hat, and her sound, which combined traditional country with a slight rock edge. Around 2017 — the year she inked her Sony Music Publishing deal and a year before she signed with Broken Bow — she began tagging her social media content with #bellbottomcountry. “I just felt like during that time people were having a hard time getting it — everything from the way that I dress to the way that I sound,” Wilson says. So she came up with her own clear explanation: “country with a flare.”

Half-jokingly, Wilson says she succeeded by outlasting the gatekeepers. “I think we just kind of shoved it down their throat enough to where they’re like, ‘All right, she ain’t going away,’ ” she says.

In an era when women still struggle to get airplay on terrestrial country radio, that has been no small feat. As her popularity has grown, Wilson has flexed different facets of her artistry — and scored radio hits — by both releasing solo songs and featuring on duets with male artists. After “Things a Man Oughta Know” became her first Country Airplay No. 1 in September 2021, she featured on Cole Swindell’s “Never Say Never,” which reached No. 1 in April 2022. The following April, her “Heart Like a Truck” peaked at No. 2, as did “wait in the truck,” her collaboration with HARDY the same month. She then returned to the top spot with “Watermelon Moonshine” and “Save Me” in October and December, respectively.

“Honestly, there was not a grand strategy of alternating singles with collabs,” Loba says. “Quite simply, it has been those acts reaching out to Lainey with great songs she connected with, and the timing has fortunately worked out well.”

As Wilson’s career gained momentum, Loba says that — in addition to making sure her music was where it needed to be — her team focused on stressing Wilson’s authenticity, which was on ample display in her charming, gracious Grammy acceptance speech earlier this year. “She’s not copying anyone else,” Loba says. “At the end of the day, everyone can see her heart and is cheering for her.”

Lainey Wilson photographed on March 26, 2024 at Paradise Pasadena in Pasadena, Calif. Kelsey Randall shirt and pants, Double D Ranch boots, Brit West necklace and cuff, Minnie Lane earrings and Tenee Estelle Trading Co & Modern Myth Jewelry rings.

Joelle Grace Taylor

Long-awaited success hasn’t diminished Wilson’s ambition — when asked if she wants to headline stadiums in five years, she answers three — but she is temporarily pulling back on the throttle just a little.

After spending only 15 nights in her own bed in 2022 and then playing 180 shows in 2023, she has trimmed her itinerary to a more manageable 80 concerts in 2024; following brief Australian and European runs earlier this year, she’ll mostly play North American festivals and headlining shows (other than opening for The Rolling Stones in Chicago on June 30) for the remainder of the year. “I feel like you can see the light at the end of the tunnel when you hear, ‘100 less,’ ” she says. But with new opportunities come fresh obligations.

“As this career grows, I feel like there’s a lot of other jobs that come along with it,” Wilson says. Her expanding list of brand partnerships includes Wrangler, American Greetings, Stanley, Tractor Supply and Coors — and she even appeared on the fifth and most recent season of Yellowstone in late 2022. (Wilson doesn’t know what her future on the show holds, but she would like to return if her schedule allows.) This summer, Wilson will open a three-story bar, Bell Bottoms Up, in Nashville’s entertainment district in partnership with TC Restaurant Group.

“She won’t say no, so we have to for her,” Loba says. “Since we signed her, she has not left a moment unscheduled. Every time I see her, the only question I [usually] have is ‘How are you?’ We both come from farm families. We’re not taught how to rest in farm families. From management to agency to label to publicist, I think we’re getting better at creating that space for her.”

“Last year was a hard year,” Wilson says. “It was the best year, and I don’t know if we’ll ever have a year like that again. But everybody was tired by the end of it — not just me, but my whole crew. Everything we’ve said we would do, we did it. And then bigger opportunities would come, and you can’t pass them up either.”

Roberto Cavalli shirt, pants and shoes, Charlie 1 Horse hat, Double D Ranch necklace.

Joelle Grace Taylor

And at a time when she could understandably be focused on her own material, she wants to leave space to work with other artists. With her appearance on “Wilted Rose” off The Black Crowes’ new Happiness Bastards, she became the first act to ever feature with the storied blues-rockers. The group’s Rich Robinson tells Billboard he and brother Chris reached out to Wilson because “her voice is so powerful. You can tell that she really feels what she is singing.”

Wilson says she would “love to collaborate with Victoria Monét,” especially after seeing her perform at Clive Davis’ pre-Grammy party in February. “She just turned it on,” Wilson continues. “At the Grammys, her [victory] speeches were from the heart. I was like, ‘I want to be her friend.’ ” And she hopes to work with new pal Lana Del Rey, though she hasn’t written for Del Rey’s country album that’s due later this year.

As the demands on her time increase, Wilson is leaning into time-honored practices to help her cope. In Australia, she started waking up an hour early to pray, journal and meditate. “I do sound a little hippie-dippy, but it works for me,” she says. “Just kind of starting my day with an attitude of gratitude.”

She vows to do the same when her WME-booked Country’s Cool Again tour starts May 31 in Nashville. “I have no choice because it has made me feel so good and grounded,” she says. When following that routine, “the shows have gone better. I feel more levelheaded. I got to treat myself like an athlete.”

Over the last two years, one word seems to keep coming up around Wilson.

“Whether I’m running into somebody and they’re saying, ‘Man, your life has been a whirlwind,’ or whether the word’s coming out of my mouth, or I open a book and see the word ‘whirlwind,’ it just seems to be surrounding me,” she says. “Whirlwinds cause turbulence that cause chaos. But at the end of the day, you figure out how to come back to the center.” Which is why it’s also the title of her third full-length Broken Bow album, out Aug. 23.

She describes Whirlwind as “the Western sister of Bell Bottom Country,” and lyrically more “introspective” than previous efforts: “I feel like it’s got a little bit more character [and] cinematic storytelling.” Wilson teamed again with producer Jay Joyce (who produced Bell Bottom Country and its predecessor, 2021’s Sayin’ What I’m Thinkin’), but in a sign of her increasing clout, her road band plays on Whirlwind instead of the cast of studio musicians who typically appear on country albums. “We’ve played close to 400 shows in the past two-and-a-half years. I knew they could do it,” Wilson explains. “I felt like that’s where the magic was going to come from this time.”

Dolce & Gabbana top, Norma Kamali pants, Charlie 1 Horse hat, Modern Myth hat band, Double D Ranch boots, Alexis Bittar bracelets, We Dream in Colour earrings, Minnie Lane, Modern Myth Jewelry, Boochier Jewelry and Established Jewlery rings.

Joelle Grace Taylor

Wilson co-wrote all the songs on the album. While her sound still leans traditional and her voice has an old-fashioned twang, her lyrics usually avoid country’s common nostalgic bent and have separated her music from some of her contemporaries’. Longing for the imaginary good old days — whether in life or her music — isn’t her focus.

“It’s important for me to be proud of where I come from and the way that I was raised, but not dwell on it too much — because who really cares? Let’s take that and move forward with it,” she says. “That’s just how I like to view life. You just got to keep trucking along.”

While she has nothing against a light-­hearted ditty — and has written a few herself, including “Hold My Halo” and “Straight Up Sideways”— as a songwriter, Wilson prioritizes depth. “I think about the songs that made me fall in love with country music and made a difference in my life,” she says, citing Brooks’ “The Thunder Rolls,” Keith Whitley’s “When You Say Nothing at All,” Reba McEntire’s “Fancy” and Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss’ “Whiskey Lullaby.” “I just think, ‘I’ve got to do that.’ Of course, there’s nothing wrong with a beer-drinking song, but even with that, I think you can dive a little deeper and get people to think a little bit.”

Listeners relate to the authenticity of Wilson’s writing, says her musical hero, Dolly Parton. “Even though Lainey is breathtakingly beautiful to look at, her true beauty comes from deep down where songs are born and written,” Parton tells Billboard. “People feel her heart and soul in what she writes because she knows what they know, feels what they feel and has the gift to present it in words. God bless her. He has and he will.”

The night after her Grammy win in February, Wilson was enjoying a celebratory dinner in Los Angeles with her manager, Red Light’s Mandelyn Monchick; Loba; and Broken Bow executive vp JoJamie Hahr when Loba mentioned his 6-year-old nephew was being picked on at school.

“Lainey goes, ‘I hate bullies. I’m going to go to his school and do show and tell and sing some songs and say what an amazing little guy he is… I can make a difference,’ ” Loba recalls. “She has just won [best country album], and the night after, she’s sitting there concerned about my nephew.”

Wilson is a people-pleaser by nature. Say something she agrees with and she looks straight at you, nods and says emphatically, “100%.” The effect is powerful — and that natural empathy has helped her connect with both fans and fellow artists. “Lainey is someone you can get in the foxhole with and get raw and real,” Jelly Roll says. “She is also a very grounded person, so if I’m ever overwhelmed, I know I can call her.”

Georges Chakra suit, Sam Edelman shoes, House of Emmanuele earrings, Minnie Lane rings.

Joelle Grace Taylor

Wilson attributes that down-to-earth sensibility to her upbringing, though she admits she has had to work to maintain it as her star has risen: “I have fought tooth and nail to make sure that I am doing the things that make me feel like me, [like] calling my family at home, checking to see how the farm’s going and see if Daddy has planted his crops, [checking in] on my nephews, hanging out with my boyfriend on the porch and those kinds of things.”

She went public with her relationship with former pro football player Devlin “Duck” Hodges at the 2023 ACM Awards, but otherwise vociferously protects the privacy of herself and those around her. In her personal life, too, Wilson has looked to Parton — who has spoken about the importance of keeping some things to yourself when you’re sharing so much else with the world — as a guide.

“I think that was probably [about] her husband,” Wilson says. “When it comes to mine and Duck’s relationship, there’s going to be some things that we can’t escape and people are going to say and do whatever, but me and him are on the same page about the less we put out there, the less that we’re going to have to deal with people making anything up and saying anything. We want to keep that as sacred as we possibly can between me and him, and so far, it has worked for us.”

Wilson, whose first Broken Bow album features a song called “WWDD” (short for “What Would Dolly Do”), got to spend some time with — and glean some useful advice from — her inspiration last year at Dollywood. “She dove right in,” Wilson says of Parton. “She was like, ‘You got a good manager?’ And I was like, ‘Yep.’ She said, ‘Well, is he an a–hole?’ ” Wilson pointed to Monchick and said, “ ‘She’s a big a–hole.’ And [Dolly] said, ‘That’s all I needed to hear. That’s what you need.’ ”

Kelsey Randall shirt and pants, Double D Ranch boots, Brit West necklace and cuff, Minnie Lane earrings and Tenee Estelle Trading Co & Modern Myth Jewelry rings.

Joelle Grace Taylor

Parton has faith in Wilson’s ability to navigate fame’s tricky waters. “In this business, as in any other, you have to sacrifice and compromise to get things done,” she says. “But I believe Lainey, like myself, will never sacrifice her principles and values for a dollar bill.”

Another icon, Brooks, has also encouraged Wilson. After winning CMA entertainer of the year, she anticipated naysayers who believed her ascent had happened too quickly and that even her own doubts would creep in, but Brooks helped silence that inner critic. “He said, ‘I feel like you’ve got the keys to country music and you’re going to be driving it for a while.’ And I was like, ‘Oh, Lord. I hope I don’t wreck this thing,’ ” she jokes. “But when somebody like him says that to you, it does make you feel like, ‘OK, yeah, that imposter syndrome can just go kick rocks.’ ”

With that mindset, it’s easy to believe Wilson can do anything — and to understand why, at the end of the day, she sees herself as a cowgirl: rough and ready, and hanging on to the rollicking ride she’s on. “Being a cowgirl is digging in. Getting up, dusting your jeans off and not being scared to get your hands dirty,” she says. “I’m from a long line of cowgirls.”

This story will appear in the May 11, 2024, issue of Billboard.