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As the five members of NewJeans file gracefully down the stairs at their Billboard photo shoot in Seoul, they greet me with bright smiles and genuine greetings of “Nice to meet you.” Just a few days prior, the exploding K-pop girl group won artist of the year and song of the year at both the Melon Music Awards and MAMA Awards, two of South Korea’s most prestigious music prizes — and just two of the roughly 10 awards shows they attended and performed at in the country this past December and early January. Yet despite the hectic schedule of winter awards season there, they exude warmth and enthusiasm.
That infectious energy has endeared the women of NewJeans — Minji, Hanni, Danielle, Haerin and Hyein, who range in age from 16 to 19 — to fans both in South Korea and worldwide. Since debuting in July 2022, NewJeans has swiftly ascended to the top of the K-pop pantheon. Six of its eight released singles have reached No. 1 or No. 2 on South Korea’s dominant streaming measure, the Circle Digital Chart. The act has made inroads on several Billboard charts as well, including three top 10 hits on the Global 200 and four on the Global Excl. U.S. chart, five entries on the Billboard Hot 100 and six top 10s on World Digital Song Sales (the highest-reaching was “Super Shy,” peaking at No. 2 last July). The group’s songs have gained 931.6 million official U.S. on-demand streams, according to Luminate.
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Along the way, NewJeans has smashed expectations in K-pop, helping lead a new era of female influence in a genre long dominated by male groups. While it was once accepted industry wisdom that only boy bands could build a core fandom and widespread commercial success (selling both albums and concert tickets), NewJeans is part of a girl-group generation that has done both, shifting the paradigm of what achievement entails for young female groups. And NewJeans has done so under the guidance of an equally innovative leader: It’s the first act to debut under ADOR (All Doors One Room), led by founder and CEO Min Hee Jin, the rare woman leading a K-pop label and management company.
About a decade ago — when this writer started working in K-pop as a producer — it sounded very differently. Record labels emphasized melody, dynamic vocal range and cohesive track arrangements, while dance performance was simply considered support for a song. Over time, the music trended toward bombastic anthems well-suited to choreography, and so-called “easy listening” songs (those preferred by the South Korean general public, who of late have not been K-pop’s core audience) tended to get lost. But NewJeans has proved that strong performances and easy listening need not be mutually exclusive. And as Billboard’s Women in Music Group of the Year says in person in Seoul, the act is just getting started.
Danielle
Ssam Kim
Haerin
Ssam Kim
How did it feel to win artist of the year and song of the year at the Melon Music Awards and MAMA Awards?
Hanni: It was really surreal to win such big awards. Honestly, for us, when it comes to these types of awards shows, we are just excited to be there. Just to be invited is an honor. We never expected [to win]. We really are just thankful for everyone who has put in a lot of hard work toward our content and music and all the people that really enjoyed it, so I think it just makes it more fun.
Danielle: I agree with Hanni. There are so many people that put in so much effort and hard work into what we do, and we are just so honored that so many people are enjoying it just as much as we are enjoying it. Sharing that happiness and positive energy through our music is such an honor in itself.
You have a small discography but so many big songs like “Ditto,” which won song of the year at the Melon and MAMA awards. Which did you expect to become as big as they did?
Danielle: When our CEO has a new song and she’s prepared to make a new album, she gets us all in her studio and we listen to all the songs together. I remember the first time we heard the songs for our album Get Up, we were just blown away. Because we truly were just like, “This is so us! This is so NewJeans.” When I first heard “Ditto,” I felt a connection to it — I guess I felt if people hear this, I want them to feel they’re healed in some way. So to know that people out there are receiving somewhat of a positive energy, it’s really amazing. Every time we release new music, we wonder if people are going to enjoy it just as much as we do. To see people out there jamming to our songs, it puts a really big smile on our faces.
Hanni
Ssam Kim
From left: NewJeans’ Minji, Danielle, Haerin, Hanni and Hyein photographed on December 4, 2023 at Seongbuk Songjae in Seoul.
Ssam Kim
Traditionally, men have run the K-pop industry, and ADOR was notably founded by a woman. What was it like training under a CEO who has that shared perspective?
Danielle: I can’t imagine what it would be like if it wasn’t for our CEO, Min Hee Jin. We are so close to her, and we feel such a strong connection to her. After a conversation with her, we’d just be inspired and learn so much. When we go overseas and stuff, she’d take us out shopping and we’d have dinner together, and we’d spend hours and hours laughing and talking about what happened and how we’ve been and telling stories.
Hyein: She is very consistent. She’s always wondering about us and worrying about us. She’s very friendly and reaches out [to us] first, which helps us feel really comfortable around her. She gives us advice like a mother would. She’s not just a great CEO but a great human being in general.
Historically, core fandoms have been harder for women to achieve in K-pop. But in the last few years that has completely changed, and NewJeans is at the forefront of that. Why do you think you’ve been able to capture that?
Minji: It may have to do with the fact that the K-pop market became a lot bigger. That’s one of the reasons why we started with so much attention and love from the general public. We never really set a specific [goal], but rather aimed to put on a performance that we love with songs that we love. I think this probably helped our fans love us from early on.
Haerin: I agree with Minji. I think it’s also because there are so many channels we can use to communicate with our fans and the public.
Hyein
Ssam Kim
Minji
Ssam Kim
I think NewJeans has changed how music sounds in K-pop, with a trend toward returning to easy listening music. Do you agree?
Danielle: Music itself is always changing. But before we debuted, our CEO told us that she wanted to do something new, something fresh and different. But with that, she wanted it to be, no matter who you are, no matter what age or gender, you can listen to it and enjoy it. So I think with that came the easy listening music. We didn’t really think, “Oh, we’re going to change music, that’s crazy.” (All laugh.) We just wanted to try something new and fun.
You’ve accomplished so much in a short time. Where do you want to go from here?
Haerin: I want our songs to move people. My goal is not only to have songs that are emotional but also to share the emotions with people onstage and through our music.
Minji: I have similar thoughts to Haerin, but I want our music to be remembered for a long time. For example, I want people to think of last winter when they hear “Ditto.”
Danielle: Besides music and performing, I just want to become someone who stays true to myself and is always open-hearted and open-minded and modest and tries really hard because there are so many things I want to do and so many places I want to go. I want to experience a lot and learn a lot and just enjoy the time being with the [NewJeans] members.
This story will appear in the March 2, 2024, issue of Billboard.
The street that leads to Luna Líquida Hotel Boutique, above the center of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, is steep and cobbled, ending in a modest gate painted sky blue with the number 409 embedded in a yellow tile on the wall.
It’s the kind of place you find only if you’re looking. And it’s exactly how Fher Olvera, lead singer of legendary Mexican rock band Maná, imagined it when he bought it in 1994, after the group’s first major hit finally allowed him to purchase the house of his dreams: a small, rustic property with an ocean view.
“When I bought the house, I asked the agent if it had any capital gains, and he asked, ‘What do you want it for?’ ” Olvera recounts as we chat on the rooftop of Luna Líquida, from which you can see the sea, the tower of the old cathedral [Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe] and the orange tile roofs of old Puerto Vallarta. “I told him I wanted it to make songs. He asked, ‘How many?’ I said, ‘Judging from the view, at least one album.’ ‘Buy it,’ he said.”
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Exactly 30 years have passed since Maná debuted on the Billboard charts in January 1994 with Dónde Jugarán los Niños, an album of songs about love and spite, set to rock and reggae beats that revolutionized what was known as rock en español. It peaked at No. 2 on the Top Latin Albums chart. As a result of that success, Olvera bought this house, and he and the rest of Maná — drummer Alex González, guitarist Sergio Vallín and bassist Juan Calleros — hunkered down here to write the albums that would cement their position as the most successful Spanish-language rock group in the world.
“Many Maná songs were born here,” says Olvera, standing in a sunny room painted light blue with tile floors, wooden beams and long, transparent gauze curtains. Olvera, who is wearing a necklace with a silver sea turtle, his favorite animal, lived here before buying the property next door and converting both homes into this 17-room hotel that’s filled with thousands of Maná’s stories.
“Here, I finished ‘Vivir Sin Aire,’ ‘Cómo Te Deseo,’ several songs. Then on the next album, Cuando los Ángeles Lloran, you can hear the church bells from the cathedral below. The next one, Sueños Líquidos, is very linked to Vallarta. In fact, the cover — the mermaid with four arms — is the sea of Vallarta. We made all that music here with our little tape recorders. The four of us slept here, some in double beds. We hired a woman to cook for us, and our routine was to be up very early drinking coffee and stay up very late drinking red wine. Then on Wednesdays, we would go to a club called El Cactus where women got in for free. It was…” he chuckles. “You can imagine.”
Fher Olvera of Maná photographed on Dec. 1, 2023 in Fresno, Calif.
Martha Galvan
It’s Olvera’s first interview in years, just days before the band’s México Lindo y Querido Tour, its first in Latin America in eight years. The act will play 16 dates, starting in Asunción, Paraguay, on Feb. 16 and including five at Buenos Aires’ Movistar Arena and an appearance at Chile’s Viña del Mar Festival. Maná will then headline the Bottlerock Festival in Napa Valley alongside Pearl Jam, Stevie Nicks and Ed Sheeran before continuing to Spain for 11 additional dates and its first-ever London concert, at the OVO Arena.
“For me, it is a dream to play in London,” says Olvera. “Since I was a teenager, I saw The Beatles and The Rolling Stones and said, ‘Wow.’ ”
What was admiration is now, in a way, understanding. Like The Rolling Stones in the English-language market, Maná has kept its integrity and its production quality, and its live touring schedule has remained active through the decades. In 2023, the quartet played more than 55 concerts, including 16 as part of its residency at Los Angeles’ Kia Forum, where it sold over 220,000 tickets, according to promoter Live Nation. (Maná does not report its sales numbers to Billboard Boxscore — a decision based on its philosophy of valuing the artistic over the monetary.)
“It feels incredible that the band remains relevant after so many decades,” González says. “Because the songs are so good, both lyrics and music. And also, because of the way Maná plays live. And third, and most important, is that our music has been handed from family to family, from grandparents to brothers to parents and children.”
“More than representatives of Latin culture, I think we’re one of many Latin colors and that through our music, people relate in many ways,” adds Vallín.
When it comes to staying power as a live act, “Maná’s connection and reach is undeniable,” Live Nation senior vp of global touring Jared Braverman says. “The band’s total commitment to their music, their stories and their passions have meant that they reach many generations and have an influence that never passes.”
Alex González of Maná photographed on Dec. 1, 2023 in Fresno, Calif.
Martha Galvan
In terms of recordings, Maná is the rock group with the most entries (33) and No. 1s (10) on the Hot Latin Songs chart, with the most albums (15) and No. 1s (eight) on Top Latin Albums and is the Latin band, of any genre, with the most No. 1s (eight) on Latin Pop Albums.
“They’re an iconic band,” says Warner Music Latin America president Alejandro Duque. “We’ve fallen in love, mended our broken hearts and celebrated our Latin culture with them. There is no other band like them. They’ve put Latin American music at the highest level on a global scale.”
Last November, the group achieved its first Regional Mexican Airplay No. 1 with its new version of 2011’s “Amor Clandestino,” alongside Edén Muñoz. The song will be part of a currently untitled covers album of Maná’s greatest hits reimagined as duets with Mexican influence. The collection will finally arrive later this year; the band has been releasing singles from it (including “Rayando el Sol,” with Pablo Alborán, and “Te lloré un Río,” with Christian Nodal) since 2019.
“Don’t scold me, don’t pressure me,” Olvera says sheepishly. “We have been lucky — because from the beginning, we said we’d release the albums when they were ready. Less money? Yes, it is less money. It’s not an album per year.”
His attitude reflects the ethos of Maná and its other three members, who remain united “like little brothers.”
Olvera spoke to Billboard Español about what’s next for Maná, the secret of its success and what he really thinks about reggaetón and the new wave of regional Mexican music.
This is exactly where you wrote or were inspired to write some of your most iconic songs, like “En el Muelle de San Blás.”
There’s a very interesting story in this room. We went to party at one of those dives where you stay out really late. We finished like at seven in the morning, and like good Mexicans, went to kill our hangover at a taco stand. I was with my buddies, and one of them says, “See that woman over there? They call her ‘the crazy woman from the pier’ because every Sunday, she dresses in white to wait for her betrothed. So I went up to her and asked, “Why do you go to the pier?” “To wait for my boyfriend, my betrothed.” “Where is he coming from?” “From the north. By boat.” “And when is he getting here?” “Tomorrow. He hasn’t come in many years, but he’ll come tomorrow.” Then she ignored me and left.
When I came back home to this room at 8 a.m., I grabbed a pencil and wrote on the wall: “She waited for him at the pier until her eyes flooded with mornings, and her hair, like the foam of [the] sea, white.” Every time I left the room, I would read that and think, “I have to write a song about that story.” I never found the woman again, but I did find out that there were no roads back then and many people arrived by boat. So probably everything she told me was true. I called it “En el Muelle de San Blás,” which is up north, because “Puerto Vallarta” didn’t fit the song’s meter.
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What other stories does this room keep?
Tons. If this bed could talk… Once I was with a girlfriend. We were already with the candles and everything, romantic, and — I swear it’s true — this is a tile roof, and something fell through the tiles and started to move. It was a snake. We’re like, “Aaahhhhh!,” and took off running. A snake expert had to come and take it out.
What moment are you at in life right now?
A great moment. I feel very whole. My voice is whole. Emotionally, I suffered a little crisis, I had a little depression. I had many blows in a row after my father died when I was little; then another sister died, about 20 years ago; then my mother and my sister both died in 2010. I found myself almost alone with my [last] sister. There were six of us, and now there’s two. So I did get a little freaked out.
On top of that, I had some complicated relationships, and we did not have good management. But thank heaven, I’m pretty well now. I’m no longer medicated, and I just have to worry about continuing to meditate, not getting too stressed and trusting the new management we have with Jason Garner and my sister, Lourdes. They’re like a Ferrari.
Maná was always a band that sang only in Spanish. Now that music in Spanish is global, do you feel vindicated in some way?
Actually, yes. We feel good, we feel proud that as Mexicans, as Latin Americans, we said, “We’re going to do it in Spanish,” and in Spanish, we’re bigger bosses than in English. And the truth is, a culture was created through this, where we spoke about the rights of migrants, the rights of people in the United States. It’s given us credibility and consistency, and we have license to talk about all this because from the beginning we did not betray our language.
Juan Calleros, left, and Sergio Vallín onstage at Toyota Center on March 30, 2023 in Houston, TX.
Juan Botero
Fher Olvera, left, and Alex González onstage at Oakland Arena on March 18, 2023 in Oakland, Calif.
Juan Botero
A band that stays together over 30 years is almost a miracle. What’s your secret?
One, we’re still very good friends, which is very difficult. It’s like a marriage, and we are truly like brothers. And second, we haven’t fallen into the clutches of drugs, alcohol, ego, which happens to many artists. It’s hard for one person to take on so much adulation. It’s very complicated.
How did you handle those challenges? Is that something you strategized as a band?
No. Otherwise, everyone would do that. I think we’ve been blessed because we’re people who love music, love what we do and truly give our all to fans. On the other hand, the rise of Maná was slow, and we were able to understand what was going on, and we didn’t go from one day a one-star hotel to another in a five-star hotel and a private plane. No. It was little by little, and we’re still very down to earth. I can tell you Sergio sometimes comes by bus because there are no flights. I just went to see U2 in Las Vegas, and I flew commercial. We’re pretty normal.
Sergio Vallín of Maná photographed on Dec. 1, 2023 in Fresno, Calif.
Martha Galvan
In fact, people may not be aware that you cap the price of your tickets.
Yes, it’s one of the things we like to do. We want everyone to have accessible ticket prices. We have tickets from $35 … Now, if you want to smuggle a little bottle of something, it’s up to you.
In all these years, what’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned?
First, let’s define success. Success is making a living doing what you like. Whether you’re a farmer, a musician or work in architecture or design, if you’re happy doing that, you made it. You don’t have to be a superstar. So what all this has taught us is, first, that friendship is worth a lot. And also, know that you can control your ego, that it has reins like a horse, and you tell him, “Wait a minute, cabrón, you’re getting out of hand.”
How do you control your ego?
I personally meditate and say, “OK, Fher, what have you done wrong? I haven’t been too tough on so-and-so. You need to relax and let people do their jobs,” because I’m a perfectionist and I want to do everything. We can’t be saying we’re the most important rock en español band; all those things are … a bother. We truly only want to feel that we’re musicians, and that’s what we have to give.
Maná could live on its catalog and never tour again. Why do you do it?
We still love going onstage. We go out as if Mexico or any other country was playing the World Cup against another team. Every concert, we give it our everything. Everything, everything, everything. We don’t hold back anything. To this day, when I’m waiting for the curtain to open, I’ll tell Sergio, “Feel my heart. It’s going tuck-tuck-tuck.” And Maná is a band that really likes to connect with their fans. Our fans are the fifth bandmember.
Fher Olvera onstage at Kaseya Center on April 15, 2023 in Miami, FL.
Juan Botero
This is the first time you’re playing Latin America in eight years.
And we’re also returning to Spain. For the production, we hired people from Belgium, Argentina, Mexico, the U.S., so they could create a fun, beautiful production in which music is the most important element. We really enjoy the island — the set we put in the middle of the audience. That makes things a little more democratic for people who don’t have enough money to buy expensive tickets.
Why is the tour called México Lindo y Querido?
The band has always loved Mexican culture, those magical aspects of Mexico. There’s so much joy; it’s something [filmmaker] Guillermo del Toro says: “We even party with death.” Mexico has many things. For example, José Alfredo Jiménez’s songs, like “El Rey,” all that ranchera music culture narrates what happened in Mexico. Mexicans are also melancholy, our hearts ache. José Alfredo used to say, “You’re born in tears and die in tears.” That culture is embedded in Maná’s lyrics: “I cried you a river, now cry me an ocean.”
They are all evocative lyrics. You have said in other interviews that you are not a fan of reggaetón lyrics.
They’re very violent and very repetitive lyrics and sometimes even lack respect for women. That’s my feeling. I think you are running out of literary resources if you resort to that type of lyrics to be able to release your song. I respect the genre a lot, but the lyrics are not lyrics that appeal to me. Most of them are quite empty, quite simplistic, and it doesn’t look like real work was put into them. That’s my point of view. There are some better lyrics in reggaetón, but I think most are pretty poor. I don’t know if many years from now these songs will still be heard. Probably not, because they lack literary strength.
I think there has been a lot of pressure from the industry itself for artists to release a lot of music and very quickly. But I feel like right now we’re going in the direction of more melodic and crafted songs. Do you feel that way?
I think there is a point where people are going to get tired. But hey, musical taste is up to each person. Sometimes I say, “Well, it’s great that there is reggaetón and that Maná sounds different. Now, whether I like it or like it enough to dance to…” The one I definitely can’t listen to much is Bad Bunny — and I really respect him! (Smiles good-naturedly.) He has reached places no other Latin artist has, and that has merit, on the one hand. But that doesn’t mean you have to like it. It’s great to have everyone do well, but we need to change that trend. If you write a letter to a girl, you’re not going to put that stuff in there. Where’s the romance for women? Or for men, for that matter?
What do you think of the new wave of Mexican music?
That’s interesting. For example, the way the guitars and bass intertwine, everything is very well done. And suddenly they switch from four-four to three-four [time]. They’re creative. I don’t like the lyrics very much either. Our country is already violent enough. But we go back to the same thing: I see them as authentic; they’re doing something from the heart. And there are good things in the music, in the guitarrón arrangements. There are very talented people.
Juan Calleros of Maná photographed on Dec. 1, 2023 in Fresno, Calif.
Martha Galvan
Do you see Maná as a Mexican rock band? Or simply a rock band?
Along those lines. A Mexican rock band, rock pop band or whatever you want to call it. There are many fusions. Alex is Cuban, and Maná is like mestizo music. Last Saturday, I went to see Carlos Santana, and it’s the same thing. Many say, “It’s not rock,” or “Yes, it’s rock.” At one point, some bands were looking down their noses at us, saying we weren’t rock. It really bothered Alex.
Did it bother you?
The answer I gave at a press conference was, “You’re right. We’re not a rock band.” If we were, we wouldn’t have made “Mariposa Traicionera” or “Te lloré un Río.” We’re more than a rock band because we broke down the walls of rock’n’roll and went further. This whole discussion of rock, no rock is pure blah-blah-blah. Pure bullsh-t. It’s music. And in the end, Alex also said, “OK. Yes.”
México Lindo y Querido is a big tour. How hard is it to travel with it?
We send cargo to South America ahead of time, some by boat, some by plane. We want to have the exact same show as the U.S. show. We don’t have a production A and production B. Many artists, especially non-Latin acts, travel to Latin America with a trimmed tour. We take everything with us and don’t cut any music out. And if people ask us for more music, we keep on playing.
You’ve spoken for years about migrant rights, and during the U.S. leg of the tour, you donated to many immigrant organizations. What’s your position?
More than a political position, it’s a humanitarian position. When we spent time with [President Barack] Obama at the White House, we weren’t supporting Democrats. We were supporting the people who work, who put food on the table for Americans. And Obama understood that perfectly. We’re not with Democrats or Republicans. We’re for the people. For human rights. The United States benefits from Mexican workers.
Fher Olvera at home in Mexico on January 31, 2024.
Paulina Pérez
We’re in Puerto Vallarta, which has a strong connection to your environmental foundation, Selva Negra, which you created back in 1996. The beaches where you hatch the sea turtles Selva Negra is so famous for are close by.
They’re toward Nayarit, on a large beach called Platanitos. The government has a reserve that is untouchable, and we partner with them to take care of the turtles in a very large area. In Platanitos, we have a conservation station where the biologists and people who take care of the turtles are. Last year, we released almost a million baby turtles into the sea, a record. We’ve been doing this since ’96, so there are many of my daughters in the sea. And we also have a nursery in Jalisco, where we plant trees and sell them to the government, which pays us very little, but we come out even. We’ve planted hundreds of thousands of trees.
Do you feel that now more than ever artists have social responsibility?
I believe that if it comes from the heart, it’s OK. If the artist doesn’t really feel it, there is no obligation to do it. The main obligation of an artist is to make good art. Their obligation is to give their best in the songs, in the lyrics, in the arrangements, in everything that makes up a song. Now, if you feel like talking about women’s rights or human rights, education, health rights, the environment, whatever you want, then all the better, I say, because music is very powerful and young people do listen. And I think that many people have been inspired by Maná to protect the environment or think globally and act locally.
Is it exciting for you to see a new generation of artists, like Christian Nodal and Edén Muñoz, sing your songs, as they’re doing on your duet album?
They’re paying homage to Maná’s songs even though they weren’t even born when the songs were made. There is “Eres Mi Religión,” with Joy [Huerta]; “Rayando el Sol” was beautiful with Pablo Alborán; “Clandestino” with Edén Muñoz is more reminiscent of Mexican music. Christian Nodal I think is a very authentic guy, a good singer who sings from the heart. And we knew that he really liked Maná. So in this album of duets, which is more focused on Mexican music, we invited him to sing “Te lloré un Río,” and the song was so beautiful because Sergio Vallín and Christian added all this Mexican instrumentation and fusion.
You’ve told me you would like to record a duet with Coldplay’s Chris Martin. Who else is on your dream collaboration list?
Last Friday, I heard U2 at the Sphere in Las Vegas, and Bono’s singing is amazing. That would be another one to tap into and see what happens. I love Bruno Mars, too. On the new album, we’re not doing many duets, just two or three. We’re writing. We’re addicted to making music.
If there’s one word that Usher personifies, it’s “cool.” The word applies to his still-captivating vocals, deep catalog of multigenerational R&B/pop hits, fluid footwork, keen fashion sense — all of which I witnessed firsthand while watching Usher and his team rehearse for the launch of his first Las Vegas residency almost three years ago. Despite the pressure-cooker atmosphere inherent in that gamble — including lingering pandemic-related challenges — the eight-time Grammy Award winner remained chill and in control. So it makes sense that Usher would be just as unflappable on the eve of performing before the largest audience of his career: at the Apple Music Super Bowl LVIII Halftime Show.
“It’s more about anticipation than jitters,” Usher says matter-of-factly in early January, having already logged a month of rehearsals in Los Angeles, Las Vegas and Atlanta. “I’m so ready for it to happen. I just want to sing louder than I’ve ever sang; dance harder than I’ve ever danced. I want to celebrate the 30 years of this career where I’m very fortunate to have made songs and moments with people that they will remember forever.”
When he started his My Way residency at The Colosseum at Caesars Palace in July 2021, the coronavirus pandemic was far from over — audiences were still “in a life depression,” as he puts it. Two years and one bigger venue (Dolby Live at Park MGM) later, My Way finished as a massive success — and Usher is clearly ready for an even bigger stage. “What an amazing crescendo,” he marvels. “I played 100 shows in Las Vegas [across both residencies], and my 101st will be the Super Bowl.”
The crescendo won’t end there. This year marks the 30th anniversary of his self-titled debut album. And on the eve of the halftime show, the singer-songwriter will release his much anticipated, long-gestating new project, Coming Home — the first on his own label, mega, in partnership with music industry veteran Antonio “L.A.” Reid and in association with gamma., helmed by former Apple executive Larry Jackson. The gamma. deal, which Usher and Reid signed in February 2023, is the latest in a series of entrepreneurial ventures, including Flipper’s Roller Boogie Palace, that Usher has been lining up for the next phase of his career. And on Aug. 20, Usher will embark on the just-announced Past Present Future tour, playing 24 arena dates across the United States (with more dates to be announced).
Usher’s mother, Jonnetta Patton — who took him to LaFace Records when he was 13 and managed him for 17 years (he’s currently managed by Ron Laffitte of Laffitte Management Group) — isn’t surprised by her son’s stunning trajectory. “He could really sing at a young age,” she explains. “I said, ‘This is your next star. This is the next Michael Jackson.’ ” She adds with a laugh, “People said, ‘His mom’s crazy.’ ”
When puberty claimed Usher’s vocal range, everyone around him (including, at least momentarily, Usher himself) thought his career was over before it had even started — except for Patton, who made sure the label secured a vocal coach to help him find his voice again. “It was so depressing for him; he almost lost his record deal,” she recalls. “But Usher fought. He was truly determined and dedicated to the goal that he set for himself: that one day everyone would know his name. He stayed the course. [Today], he’s a true performer who has no fear.”
Bottega Veneta shirt, Alexander McQueen pants, Fear of God sunglasses, Jacquie Aiche and Veert jewelry.
Sami Drasin
To his legion of fans who sent four of his albums to the top of the Billboard 200 and nine of his songs to No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, Usher’s staying power was never in question. But in the past 12 years, since 2012’s Looking 4 Myself and after two albums (Hard II Love and A) that weren’t massive hits like his earlier projects, he has experienced an indisputable renaissance in tandem with his residencies. And those 100 shows set the stage perfectly for the Feb. 9 release of Coming Home, which coincides with the 20th anniversary of his RIAA diamond-certified 2004 classic, Confessions. Usher’s first solo album since 2016’s Hard II Love (and first studio project since 2018’s A with Zaytoven), Coming Home is, like Confessions, executive-produced by Usher and Reid (who dropped by the singer’s Billboard photo shoot but declined to be interviewed for this story). However, it’s most certainly not a sequel, one of the rumors that swirled in the long lead-up to its announcement.
The 20 tracks — which serve up R&B, hip-hop, pop, funk, Afrobeats and amapiano — include three recent releases: the R&B hit “Good Good” with Summer Walker and 21 Savage, the remix of the Michael Jackson-esque “Standing Next to You” with Jung Kook and the tender ballad “Risk It All” featuring H.E.R. from the Color Purple soundtrack album. But with the pulsating rush of tracks like “Keep on Dancin’,” the album delivers what fans continue to love about Usher: his emotive vocals, relatable lyrics and danceable beats. Standouts include the thematic title track with Burna Boy, a fun pairing with rap force Latto on the upbeat “A-Town Girl” (which contains elements of Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl”), breakup song and next single “Ruin” featuring Nigerian singer-songwriter Pheelz and “Kissing Strangers,” a striking reflection on a relationship’s aftermath.
The lattermost, a holdover from a stockpile of songs that Usher was considering for his then-untitled new album in 2021, was co-produced by the late busbee. Known primarily for his work with pop and country artists like P!nk, Maren Morris and Keith Urban, busbee might seem an unusual choice for Usher — but for the reinvigorated singer, such collaborators are part of a push to experiment more with different genres and rhythms while “digging deeper in what I choose to write about.” That doesn’t mean Usher is abandoning what has gotten him this far: The album is full of reunions with the R&B vets who helped craft his earlier successes, like Jermaine Dupri, Bryan-Michael Cox, The-Dream, Christopher “Tricky” Stewart and Pharrell Williams.
“[Malcolm] Gladwell talks about the 10,000 hours rule for becoming the ultimate expert in one’s field or craft,” gamma.’s Jackson says, referencing the author’s best-selling Outliers: The Story of Success. “And Usher has achieved his 10,000 hours of mastery. He exudes it. He’s sitting at the top of his mountain — the first independent artist to ever play the Super Bowl.” And even at this point in his career, milestones like that still matter to Usher.
Fear of God jacket, pants and shoes, and Dolce & Gabbana gloves.
Sami Drasin
How did your residency prepare you for this global performance?
I’m happy that I’m coming off a successful residency, which helped me prepare and get into the rhythm of it overall. Otherwise, I would have had to restart and relive moments. But going on that stage every Wednesday, Friday and Saturday reminded me of what my music has meant, how people feel about me and how I feel about it all. After years and years of doing this, you can grow tired and frustrated, especially as music changes the standards of how we count what’s hot, what’s cool or what’s not. All of those things can get to your mind and make you even question if you really want to continue to do it. But when I went to Las Vegas, it just made me excited about all of it all over again.
Any hints you can share about what viewers can expect?
It will definitely be an event. There are special guests. And I’ve considered new songs. But you know, it’s 12 to 15 minutes. So it’s really hard to determine what moment matters more than others, especially with a new song. But there’s the dance, the wardrobe, the lighting, how long you stay in a song, the fact that the audience may sing along … It’s a lot. So I’m trying my hardest not to overthink it.
Did you get in touch with other halftime performers for pointers?
I’ve happened to be around a few people who’ve played the Super Bowl, and they did give me some pointers. I also happened to be on a boat not too long ago with Katy Perry, who gave me some notes. I heard that Rihanna stood up for me [in a December interview with E! News] and said something really incredible [about Usher’s qualifications for the gig]. I really appreciated that. I’ve watched every performer, analyzing how they maximized those 12 minutes. But you know, your moment is your moment. And this is a moment I’ve prepared for during the last 30 years.
Usher photographed on January 5, 2024 at 1859 Bel Air Road in Los Angeles. Dolce & Gabbana suit, Calvin Klein shirt, ETAI mask, Fear of God gloves and shoes, Versace sunglasses and Jacquie Aiche jewelry.
Sami Drasin
Which past halftime performances stand out the most for you?
All of them start with the idea that the Super Bowl changed when Michael Jackson performed. I’ve enjoyed Prince, Coldplay, Beyoncé, Bruno Mars, Madonna. There are tons of things that I was able to pick up on, from looking at how they chose to enter, what they did while they were onstage and how they chose to close. But the one that really stands out is Michael. Before then, they just hired a random band or whoever. Michael brought in his own director, obviously paid a lot of money and spent a lot of time designing that incredible moment. He reframed how we look at the Super Bowl live performance.
What components must a Super Bowl halftime show have to resonate with viewers?
You should have hit records. (Laughs.) I always say that a new song is a bit of a risk. But then, Beyoncé played something fairly new [“Formation,” at the Coldplay-headlined Super Bowl 50 in 2016], which I thought was really interesting, and The Weeknd did a pretty cool job as well. You also need to have a singalong moment. I think every Super Bowl should have a live band and your mic has to be on, or should be, because people want to connect with you. They want to feel it’s live and in the moment. And every halftime performance should have dancing. Even if the artist isn’t doing that, you have to have some sort of choreography.
Is there one song that you still love to sing and dance to the most?
I love to perform all my songs. But to this day, I still love “U Got It Bad.” I think because of the connection between me and the audience. Then the fact that the song kind of reinvented the ballad in a way because it’s almost like a tempo [song]. It was no longer like a slow, sultry singalong ballad about emoting. It has rhythm and I dance to it; that’s the other side. And the fact that people sing it the way that they do when I’m performing it, they feel a connection to it and it feels real. When it all comes together — the song, the connecting message to the audience, the dance — it almost feels like classical music.
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It’s now the eve of releasing Coming Home. What can fans expect from 2024 Usher?
Every album offers a bit of where I was in my life and what I felt I wanted to share. But this is the first time that I’ve ever felt so comfortable to just be where I am. I’m 100% in my skin. And after 30 years, it shouldn’t even be a question about whether this is going to be greater than something in my past. And I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. I’m just saying it’s hard because every time you put out an album, you’re trying to figure out how not to mess up what you’ve done in the past. And I don’t want to think like that.
I just want to love what I do, make what I love, allow people to come to my space and see what I have to offer. You might identify with it. It may help you deal with some of the sh-t you may be going through, or it may be helpful in making a baby or just having a good time. (Laughs.) I’m not thinking of this album in comparison to anything other than what it is: uniquely its own. And it’s a hard thing, especially when you’ve amassed an audience that goes all the way from “OMG” to “Think of You.” Now I want [the audience] to come back to see me one more time and know that I came home to this space where I’m comfortable.
This is your first solo album since 2016. What have you learned about yourself musically that has brought you to this comfortable, creative space?
That there are new genres that I can play in; ideas and collaborations, rhythms and things that I can participate in and not be beholden to just the overall standard of creating the classic R&B album. I learned that how people listen to music is really a snapshot nowadays. So you have to kind of change your approach of how you even sequence songs; people don’t even necessarily know the difference between a hook and a bridge. Therefore, the way I’m creating is being adjusted a bit because where I was, I am no longer, and the producers that I work with, they’re no longer there either. We’re in a new space. What I also have learned is, don’t hold on to music so damn long. You’ve got to let it go. I worked literally for about four to five years just collecting music [for this album].
I’m comfortable because I’m in my own zone, on my own throne. I did it my way. I’m quoting myself. (Laughs.) I have nothing to prove. I’m not racing time. If there’s any question about whether a 45-year-old artist can release music and still be relevant: I’ve been releasing music over the last year that’s definitely connected in a different way. I hope that sets a precedent for artists who are my age. I sing harder and with more precision than I’ve ever done on this album.
Custom jacket and gloves, Saint Laurent shirt, Purple Brand pants, Veert jewelry and Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses and brooches.
Sami Drasin
What’s your take on R&B’s rebound over the last couple of years, with next-gen artists like SZA, Coco Jones, Victoria Monét, H.E.R. and Brent Faiyaz? Where will the genre evolve from here?
I’m very happy that there’s a new installation of R&B artists who care to be authentic to what they are creating, inspired by artists of the past. Everybody who has ever said to me that R&B is dead sounds crazy. Especially when I know the origins of R&B are in all other genres of music.
It’s about creating commerce in other spaces. Lovers & Friends [where Usher will perform Confessions in full in May] is a successful R&B festival that gives you a place to go and celebrate the songs that we make. We need things that you associate with R&B that you can buy into. Like with hip-hop — glasses, clothes, cars, jewelry, sneakers … ancillary things that people can access. R&B needs and has the potential to have those things as well.
My point is, I never felt like R&B was dying. I think it just needs expansion. We’re moving toward a standard where people are looking at snippets — TikTok, Instagram and other things — and when fans get it, they take it and do something with it. But if we start to think of it that way and create from that place, the standards for R&B will change. You won’t be able to compare it in an old-versus-new way. It’ll just be what it is.
What prompted your transition from major-label to indie artist as a label owner with mega and reteaming with L.A. Reid?
I wanted to do something that I felt would represent R&B and come from a place of passion. L.A. [who also consulted on the My Way residency] and I had talked about working together again. He was managing a few artists and still working on his production company, HitCo. This would be a journey that would require us resetting a second on our next go-round because we had worked together other times with Justin [Bieber] and on other projects. But he and I would find and develop artists who represent this new standard. And as the first artist on mega, I’d be the first up to bat. It seemed ambitious. But I couldn’t think of a better partner or better music man with amazing ears.
L.A. also has incredible sensibility in developing artists because he set the standard at LaFace Records for the artist I am and the way I think of entertainment. Then we managed to connect Voltron (laughs) with Larry Jackson, and it just went to another level because he had a similar interest in wanting to invest in artists and their creative; to pull from some of the things that we’ve done in our paths to create sustainable artists and teach them together. We have a studio in L.A. and Atlanta; we’re looking for artists and are very excited about the potential of building some incredible things together.
You reportedly sold your interest in Bieber’s catalog to HarbourView. Moving forward, do you plan to invest in technology and other music-related ventures?
I’ve never publicly made that statement [about Bieber]. However, I am at an incubation space in my life, looking for new ventures, new ideas, partnering with people who have like-minded interests in entertainment, not just for music but hopefully with the NFL, NBA [Usher holds a minority stake in the Cleveland Cavaliers] or other ventures. I think that we need a Black-owned team somewhere. A minority share is great, don’t get me wrong. I love it. But to at least have one team that is owned by minorities in a way that’s significant, continues to grow and you feel it — I would love to know that there is a minority and/or majority [interest] that is all Black.
Jimmy Iovine, Liberty Ross and I started a brand of skating rinks called Flipper’s, and we’re in the process of launching a skate specifically through Flipper’s. Every year now, during the hot season, we flip Rockefeller Center in New York into a skating rink. We flipped the Hollywood Palladium to a rink for Grammy Week last year, and we’re looking to do more of that. We also opened a rink in London. And I’m working on an official opening of a skating rink here in America. It is so important for people to realize that you need to smile and enjoy yourself. And the only way that I know I can pull that out of everybody is with skates.
Dolce & Gabbana suit, Calvin Klein shirt, ETAI mask, Fear of God gloves and shoes, Versace sunglasses and Jacquie Aiche jewelry.
Sami Drasin
Is your Las Vegas residency on hiatus for now?
Hopefully, we will continue to have a successful festival in Las Vegas with Lovers & Friends. I have roots there. I really did enjoy my time in Las Vegas. Am I going to go back, if I ever do, in the same way? No. I’m not planning on doing that right now. I do love what I’m seeing in Las Vegas with the type of curated experiences that are getting a front stage that they didn’t before. Love what Bruno Mars and Boyz II Men were able to do in Las Vegas and, now, to see New Edition and Wu-Tang [Clan] coming in. I love Vegas. It has an opportunity to be a cultural foundation for experiences that are not just about music but about entertainment, about other ancillary things that you experience. That’s the long of it. The short of it is, I’ll be back in Vegas someday.
Looking back now, what are the takeaways from your 30-years-and-counting career?
I really do enjoy what I do. And I don’t take kindly to the fact that people at times have doubted it. But it has definitely been motivating for me to continue to push to be great. To make something that was great and surround myself with people who don’t just want to see what I saw or what they saw but are invested in what’s happening currently and in the future. They’re invested in affirmations, being able to speak things into existence. To look in the mirror at yourself and say it, believe it. Then have the courage to not just hope but believe in what you were saying and staying invested in that. We’re as powerful as we choose to be. That’s what got me here. I just believed and didn’t pay attention to what anybody else had to say.
Location: 1859 Bel Air Road, Los Angeles @1859BelAirRd. Developer: Sean Balakhani @balakhani_estates. Architect: Mandi Rafati @tagfront. Interior Designer: Cesar Giraldo @cesargiraldodesign. Agents: Aaron Kirman, AKG, Christie’s International Real Estate @AaronKirman and Mauricio Umansky, The Agency RE @Mumansky18.
This story will appear in the Feb. 10, 2024, issue of Billboard.
A sea of tweens and teens (with a few parents in tow) covered every inch of Chicago’s Aragon Ballroom on Nov. 17. Those closest to the stage had stood outside for hours, braving the rapidly dropping temperatures of a typical Midwest fall day as they waited in an entry line that circled around the block. They were there for a therapy session with Ivan Cornejo, the 19-year-old Mexican American artist who has become the unofficial therapist for a generation, providing a healing space at his shows with songs about love and heartbreak. Cornejo, who is soft-spoken and considerably shy, looked the part of a therapist clad in gray slacks, a dark dressy shirt and a piece of fabric wrapped around like a headband that has become part of his signature onstage look.
That night was his second sold-out show at the Aragon as part of his U.S. Terapia Tour, and it was indeed therapy for the fans in attendance, who shed a few tears throughout the night while also singing every song at the top of their lungs. Cornejo performed his Gen Z-approved anthems, like “Donde Estás (Where Are You)” and “Perro Abandonado (Abandoned Dog),” powered by moody sierreño guitars, but he also covered the 2006 folk-pop classic “Hey There Delilah” by the Plain White T’s and Jesse & Joy’s 2011 Latin pop ballad “¡Corre!,” showcasing the remarkable versatility that has made him one of regional Mexican music’s most eclectic acts today.
Born in Riverside, Calif., to Mexican parents, Cornejo epitomizes the modern música mexicana artist. He has embraced the traditional instruments, including the requinto and other acoustic guitars, that have long powered the regional Mexican sound, but has also given the enduring genre an alternative edge, incorporating electric guitars and darker, emo-like lyrics for a sad sierreño approach that has connected with his young and zealous fan base.
“A lot of my influences came from regional Mexican, but it is hard to just identify as just that,” says Cornejo, who broke out in 2021 with his first single, “Está Dañada (She Is Damaged),” which landed him a No. 1 entry on Billboard’s Latin Songwriters chart dated Oct. 30, 2021, while also becoming the second regional Mexican song to appear on the all-genre Hot 100. “All the genres that I listen to, like country and rock, have inspired me. My sound is regional Mexican with a twist.”
His experimentation has paid off. The singer-songwriter has placed 13 songs on the Hot Latin Songs chart, and his second album, Dañado, was No. 1 on Regional Mexican Albums for 37 nonconsecutive weeks, the fourth-most since the chart launched in 1985. The 2022 Billboard Latin Music Awards crowned him new artist of the year, he has generated 1.6 billion on-demand official streams in the United States, according to Luminate. Cornejo landed at No. 10 on Billboard’s 2023 year-end Top Latin Artists chart.
This digital cover story is part of Billboard’s Genre Now package, highlighting the artists pushing their musical genres forward — and even creating their own new ones.
In August, following his Lollapalooza debut and on the heels of his Terapia trek, Cornejo signed with Interscope Records (he was previously signed to independent label Manzana Records), a significant and timely partnership for the mainstream label that, two months before, had added Karol G to its roster. Signing Cornejo felt like an acknowledgement of Mexican music’s global expansion in the past year, which has been led by a new generation of artists like Cornejo who are evolving the genre’s look and sound. In the first half of 2023, overall consumption of regional Mexican music jumped 42.1%, topping all other genres but K-pop.
“I’ve worked in Mexican music for many years and if you tried to step out of the regional Mexican circle 20 years ago, you would get punished,” explains Interscope executive vp Nir Seroussi. “I’m open-minded, but it was hard to think how the next generation would connect with this style of music. Now, here’s this kid who is borrowing from the roots and making it his own and there’s nothing forced about it. It feels powerful and authentic. Ivan could’ve chosen any other path, folk or indie rock, but for whatever reason, he chose regional Mexican as his starting point. But it doesn’t define him — he is defined by his songs and his guitar. I see Ivan expanding the range of Mexican music and that’s what makes it so much fun nowadays.”
After wrapping up his tour on Nov. 22 with a record-breaking concert at Toyota Arena in Ontario, Calif., becoming what the venue says is the highest-selling single Latin music show in its history, Cornejo is now focused on recording his third album — which he promises will be even “bigger” than Dañado thanks to “improvements musically and lyrically.” While the core of his sound will continue to be Mexican music, he isn’t letting genre labels box him in, and is eager to experiment with reggaetón and house music: “I have a lot of respect for artists that can do more than one genre. It’s not easy.”
Michael Buckner
While your music often falls under the música mexicana label, your sound is eclectic. What do you think helped define it?
I grew up listening to a bunch of different genres. My mom loved listening to pop, rock en español. My dad would listen to more regional stuff like Los Bukis, Vicente Fernández. My brother would listen to rock [and] alternative, like Metallica, and my sister was more into psychedelic EDM, almost. A mix of everything. I loved music while I was growing up and it was natural the way it came about.
You learned to play the guitar on YouTube. How complicated is that for someone who wants to follow in your footsteps?
I was 7 years old when I learned how to play. At first, I’d watch tutorials for the basics but when it came to learning entire songs, it was more of just watching the artist or musician play the guitar and copy what they did. Also, a lot of older songs didn’t have tutorials. I remember my dad would ask me to learn to play songs by Joan Sebastian or Los Bukis and he’d pay me $5 for a song. I mean, for a 7-year-old that was a lot of money. It was kind of my way of making $20 for the weekend. I was collecting some royalties back then. (Laughs.) But I also really loved music, so it never felt like a chore.
After you wrote your first song, who did you first show it to?
I showed my friends, and they motivated me to just keep making my own music. They were the first ones to say, “You’re kind of good.” I didn’t believe them at first but a part of me did, so that motivated me. I kept showing them the songs I was writing and asking what they thought. I was a little nervous to show them, but it wasn’t anything like an audition or anything too serious — if they didn’t like it, cool. It just meant I had to keep trying.
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Besides your father, your friends also exposed you to regional Mexican music. Tell me about your connection with the genre.
When they started showing me, it was around when T3R Elemento was dropping music. Their [2017] song “Rafa Caro” stood out to me. I thought, “I actually like this.” At the time, I wasn’t really listening to regional music; it was more like my dad’s mariachi or traditional music. A couple of years later, when Natanael Cano dropped [his 2019 album] Corridos Tumbados, it changed everything for me. He really took a big step and just changed the whole style of corridos. A lot of people adapted to that quickly.
Once you established your sound, how did you go on to make this a full-time career? Who helped you get everything up and running?
I started posting my videos [singing covers] on TikTok and Instagram. After I started getting recognition and seeing a lot of comments supporting me, it motivated me to write my own music. I dropped my first song three years ago, and that song was a big change for me. I was just doing TikToks and then labels started reaching out. It was like a mini dream come true. It was what I always wanted. I remember being 9 years old, playing the guitar, not knowing the music industry or how to get into it. I would always think, “Once I’m older, I’ll know how.”
Given your age and your fans’ age, do you think they are more open to hearing a lot of different sounds from you versus expecting only one thing?
I feel like Gen Z is fearless when it comes to listening to genres. I would hope they’re not expecting just one specific style from me. But I also have to find a way to experiment without catching them off guard. I need to do it gradually; that way I don’t scare them off.
Do you still try to listen to a variety of music?
I feel like my taste in music is always expanding. Every day I find a song that is different than what I’m normally listening to. The more variety you have, the better the chance of creating new unique music [yourself]. I listen to Miley Cyrus, she’s cool. Lana Del Rey. I remember watching The Great Gatsby and falling in love with her song “Young and Beautiful.” She has those songs that take you somewhere both emotionally and mentally.
Michael Buckner
Are there other producers or artists you’d like to work with?
There’s a couple, like Tainy and James Blake. Also, it’d be an honor to have RYX produce one of my songs. I would also love to collaborate with Post Malone or Miley Cyrus.
You wrapped your Terapia Tour in November. What was the inspiration behind that name?
I would see a lot of comments on social media from my fans, writing comments like, “Your music saved me.” They’re talking about my music like it’s some sort of therapy. So, I made each concert into a session. At the meet-and-greet they’d tell me their stories, which is heartwarming. Some are really sad stories. It made me realize how much power you have in helping these young kids with things they might be going through. I’m at home but my music will always be with them. It’s something I think about a lot. I really don’t want to let them down.
Música mexicana is massive. How do you want to move it forward?
The charts are full of Mexican artists. I’m excited for next year to drop the album and be part of that massive moment. As of right now, my sound is sad sierreño but next year it could change and might not feel or sound like sad sierreño — it could be more alternative, rock and a bit more like all my influences.
What does it mean when you hear that you can move an entire culture forward with your lyrics and your style of Mexican music?
It’s a great role but also a big one. A lot of pressure. But I think I will do my best doing things that feel natural to me.
“Is Laufey jazz?”
This was a recent topic among the armchair musicologists of Reddit’s r/Jazz thread, who spend much of their time debating the genre. It’s also the title of a 33-minute deep dive by YouTuber and musician Adam Neely where he dissects the 24-year-old cellist, singer and songwriter’s harmonic and chordal choices on a granular, theoretical level in an attempt to answer the question too.
Trying to neatly categorize whether Laufey (pronounced LAY’-vay) makes music that is jazz or something else misses the point of what she is doing. Laufey is building a modern and surprisingly lucrative musical world out of old-school building blocks — ii-V-I jazz chords, classical music motifs, bebop ad-libs — plus more than a pinch of Taylor Swift-ian storytelling.
But it’s Laufey’s wider aesthetic world — “Laufey Land,” as she calls it — that a remarkable number of Gen Z fans are flocking to. While traditional jazz can feel esoteric, Laufey makes it accessible by inviting followers into Laufey Land on social media — a place where her best days involve sipping lattes, reading Joan Didion and wearing the latest styles from Sandy Liang, and where listening to Chet Baker and playing the cello are the absolute coolest, hippest things to do. “It’s all kind of illustrative of my life and my music,” she says, and she shares both online generously.
Laufey Land (which has also become the name of her official fan HQ Instagram account) has also captured the imagination of the music business: sources say she sparked a multimillion-dollar bidding war last year among record labels that have rarely seen so much commercial potential in a jazz-adjacent act, though she remains independent for now. Perhaps that’s because her music renders a wistful, romantic portrait of young adulthood that can feel fantastical yet still within reach. And even if you’re not quite familiar with her own lofty influences — Chopin, Liszt, Baker, Fitzgerald, Holiday — Laufey invites you to sit with her, listen along and get lost in a magical place where, sure, the music is jazz-y, but is also so much more than that.
Raised between Iceland and the Washington, D.C., area, Laufey Lín Jónsdóttir grew up surrounded by classical musicians. Her Chinese mother is a violinist, and her grandparents were violin and piano professors; it was her Icelandic father who introduced her to jazz. “There was just so much music in the house growing up,” she recalls today. “It was a sonic blend of those two.”
Laufey and her identical twin sister, Junia — who now acts as Laufey’s creative director and is a frequent guest star in her TikToks — started playing young. Eventually Junia landed on violin and Laufey on cello (though she also plays piano and guitar). Until college, she saw herself more as a performer and practitioner of music than as a writer of it. But at the Berklee College of Music in Boston, she found many of her new friends were penning their own songs.
This digital cover story is part of Billboard’s Genre Now package, highlighting the artists pushing their musical genres forward — and even creating their own new ones.
Though Laufey says she always listened to pop music as well — she especially loved the storybook tales of early Swift songs — she felt that “oftentimes the lyrics and the storytelling resonated, but the sound [of pop music] wasn’t completely there. I didn’t feel like it was something I could make, and I wanted to make something that sounded more like me.” A self-described “sheltered orchestra kid,” she also didn’t yet have much life experience to expound upon lyrically.
Like so many artists before her, Laufey says she was finally propelled into songwriting when she had her heart broken. Borrowing chords closely related to the Great American Songbook that she had spent so much time studying already, she created “Street by Street,” which eventually became her first single. She was 20 years old. “The way I wanted to write was to find this middle ground between the very old and the very new,” she says. “I remember thinking, ‘Wow, you can do this. You can write something new in the style of George Gershwin or Irving Berlin — something older.’ ”
When COVID-19 hit and forced everyone into lockdown, school ended, and to stay in vocal shape, Laufey began posting her takes on jazz standards online, her smooth alto accompanied by either cello arrangements or acoustic guitar. “The day I got back from school and started isolating, I told myself, ‘OK, I’m just going to write and post as many videos online of me singing jazz standards as I can,’ ” she recalls. “I’ll just see where it takes me.” An early video of her singing “It Could Happen to You” “hit some sort of algorithm,” as she puts it, and quickly, her following grew, attracting interest from a number of record labels, though she opted to sign to AWAL instead.
Today — one EP, two studio albums and one live album with the Iceland Symphony Orchestra later — Laufey is quite possibly the most popular artist making jazz or jazz-adjacent music, according to metrics like Spotify monthly listeners (24 million) and Instagram and TikTok followers (2.2 million and 3.6 million, respectively). Her breakout single, the bossa nova-inspired “From the Start,” is a massive hit, with 313.1 million on-demand official global streams, according to Luminate. And she’s now a Grammy nominee: Her second album, Bewitched, released in September 2023, is up for best traditional pop vocal album, an eclectic category this year where she’s the one new talent alongside veterans Bruce Springsteen and Liz Callaway and the late Stephen Sondheim. “It feels very, very validating, especially in the category I’m in,” Laufey says.
Tony Luong
The debate about what genre signifiers define Laufey may still matter at the Grammys (and on the Billboard charts, which categorize her as “jazz”), but there is far less need to label music than there once was, benefiting artists like Laufey who bridge disparate sonic worlds. “I think people’s desire to categorize things into genres was so rooted in radio, where they were trying to fit into a certain format to succeed,” says Max Gredinger, Laufey’s manager and a partner at Foundations Artist Management. “I think that is kind of ingrained in us, but now that terrestrial radio has certainly diminished in impact, I think people are still wrapping their heads around this new world.”
Around the time Laufey started to build her audience, TikTok’s reign over music discovery had just taken hold. It’s a place where personality and catchiness count but genre is of no consequence — the perfect platform for an artist like Laufey where she could define her jazz-inflected pop as not just a sound but as an aesthetic, a feeling, a lifestyle both timeless and very much of the moment.
Gredinger calls Laufey and her sister “the 2024 version of what you think of as a marketing executive. I would bet on them to do that job best a trillion times over.” Beyond music and slice-of-life videos, Laufey invites her fans into her process in other ways. She has posted sheet music versions of her songs before releasing them, asking her musician fans (of which there are many) to try to learn the song without hearing any reference and post the results, which she’ll then repost in the lead-up to release day.
She also hosts a book club, with selections — from Donna Tartt’s The Secret History to Susanna Kaysen’s Girl, Interrupted — that feel akin to her music and her personal style, somewhere between darkly academic and coquettishly feminine. On the release day for Bewitched, she hosted A Very Laufey Day, a sort-of scavenger hunt around Los Angeles, involving everything she likes to do in a day. It included special Laufey Lattes, a display of her book club selections at a local shop and a merchandise pop-up at the Melrose Trading Post; at the end, she treated participants to a secret performance in West Hollywood’s Pan Pacific Park.
“It was like a normal Saturday for me,” Laufey says with a laugh. “I would’ve done all those things either way. I drove around West Hollywood and saw girls in white shirts, jeans and ballet flats carrying lattes and I would roll down the window and say hey and surprise them.” Her fans range from ultra-online teens to nerdy music majors to nostalgic grandparents, but her core base is Gen Z, many of whom do not listen to jazz or classical otherwise.
When she was younger, Laufey says, she never anticipated the mainstream popularity she has now. “If anything, I thought I would go the conservatory route, practice cello and try to get into the best orchestra I could, like my mother did,” she says. “I was so focused on being realistic that I almost didn’t allow myself to dream so big.”
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She remembers one of her first shows after pandemic lockdowns eased up, at New York’s Rockwood Music Hall, where she heard there was a line of fans outside waiting to be let in. “I was really confused,” she says. “I grew up going to symphony concerts primarily, and nobody lines up like that, you just walk in. I was like, ‘Oh, no. Let them in! What is happening?’” It was the first time she realized that her fans weren’t just a number on her screen: They would show up for her in real life, learn all the words to her songs and were shockingly young.
Norah Jones, a hero of Laufey’s and one of the few modern artists to, like her, bridge the jazz-pop divide, says she sees “a lot of similarities” between herself and Laufey. “We both come from a background steeped in jazz and have formed our own paths from there,” Jones says. “[But] because social media and streaming have changed the music industry so much, her journey is also so different from mine.” (The two recently collaborated on a set of holiday songs, Christmas With You.)
Unlike Jones, who has a long-standing relationship with Blue Note Records/Capitol Records, Laufey has opted to stay independent — a clear sign of the times. Industry sources say she recently sparked a multimillion-dollar bidding war among major labels, but she finally decided to keep her business among herself, Gredinger and AWAL (which handles label services and distribution) instead.
“With the kind of music I make,” she says, “I make very individualistic choices. I’m very confident in my music. I know what I want, and my current team at AWAL has let me make those creative decisions. I’ve had a great time being independent, so I haven’t felt like I’ve been lacking anything. Making independent decisions is my main focus.”
In the future, Laufey Land’s borders are likely to only expand further. She envisions her sweeping love songs soundtracking musicals and films someday, like Harry Connick Jr., Jon Batiste and Sara Bareilles have done. The ultimate dream? A James Bond theme. “I’ll just keep on repeating that I want that, so it manifests itself maybe,” she says, smiling.
Batiste, who also knows what it’s like to move between jazz and pop music spaces, thinks she’s on the right track. “Laufey approaches all of these many facets [of a music career] with a great deal of prowess, deftness of craft and insight into how to connect with her community,” he says. “That will only continue to attract more curious listeners.”
“I think there are a lot of barriers to entry to listening to jazz… [It] can be very daunting,” Laufey says. “I’m lucky I was born into that world, but I’m aware of how scary it can seem. It seems like something that’s reserved for maybe older or more educated audiences. I think that’s so sad, because both jazz and classical music were genres that were the popular music of one time. It was for everyone. That’s one of the reasons I want to fuse jazz and classical into my own music: I want to make a more accessible space.”
Tony Luong
She points to artists like DOMi & JD BECK and Samara Joy, young jazz talents she admires who are actively evolving the genre today. “Jazz hasn’t gone anywhere — it’s actually, I think, gone into music more,” Laufey says, pointing to its influence on hip-hop, R&B and pop. “The amount of times I hear a pop song really hitting the charts and everyone’s like, ‘It’s so good’ — in my head, I’m like, ‘Yeah, that’s because of this jazz harmony that really draws you in.’”
Her own sound borrows primarily from that of the jazz greats of the 1940s and ’50s — one reason, perhaps, why her songs connect so well. As tracks featuring sizable samples or interpolations of older hits continue to rise on the Billboard charts, experts posit that the pandemic led to an increasing interest in songs that feel nostalgic.
Though Laufey’s work sounds quite different from, say, “First Class” by Jack Harlow, the same primal desire for familiarity and comfort is at the root of its appeal. “I think a lot of the sounds that she pulls from, every person has some connection to,” Gredinger says. “You would be hard pressed to find someone who didn’t have some memory or relationship with jazz or classical. It’s a foundational experience most everyone has had, combined with modern, honest songwriting.”
And it’s the combination of those elements that create the foundation of Laufey’s own brave new world. One where true love is possible, every day is romanticized, major sevenths are essential — and all kinds of listeners are welcome.
September’s Hip-Hop Forever show at Madison Square Garden in New York — part of the yearlong celebration of the genre’s 50th anniversary — brought the stars out. Alongside legends who helped build hip-hop’s storied past was a slightly more unexpected booking: Jamaican dancehall king Sean Paul. He tore the house down with hits like “Give It Up to Me” and “Like Glue,” reminders of a time, in the early 2000s, when dancehall records topped the Billboard charts — when Paul, who has now traded his trademark cornrows for a crisp, neat Caeser, effortlessly mixed dancehall’s infectious riddims with hip-hop sensibilities and aesthetics. Blending reggae and dancehall with other popular genres wasn’t a new idea when Paul did it, but no one else besides Bob Marley and Shaggy had done so to greater effect.
At least until now. That night, Paul wasn’t the only dancehall MC to bless the stage. One of the “special guests” teased on the show’s flier was a comparatively little-known 29-year-old guy from Montego Bay, Jamaica, that most audience members couldn’t pick out of a lineup if they were promised the numbers to the next Powerball. But though silence at first overtook the crowd when he stepped onstage, Teejay looked every inch the star when he arrived.
Invited as a guest of Funkmaster Flex, the longtime Hot 97 DJ who oversaw the night’s proceedings, Teejay emerged dripped out in a Gucci jacket and matching sneakers. And when the opening chords of his current hit, “Drift,” blared out of the speakers, concertgoers slowly caught on: This was the guy who made the song that had taken over TikTok for a few months last year. As Teejay warmed up to the crowd, so did they, breaking into the signature dance that would help propel “Drift” to a No. 47 debut on Billboard’s R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay chart three weeks after the Garden performance.
It was a big night for Teejay — one that affirmed that the hard work he’d been putting in over the past three years was finally paying off. So what if few can yet recognize him by face? They recognize his music. Well, sort of.
“Most people still don’t know what I’m saying,” says Teejay with a laugh, thinking back to the Garden show. We’re in Los Angeles, meeting for the second time at his Billboard photoshoot, and his fit looks as if it costs more than most people’s monthly income. “But they love the vibe. They love the music. They love the sound. So, I just work with it.”
This digital cover story is part of Billboard’s Genre Now package, highlighting the artists pushing their musical genres forward — and even creating their own new ones.
Born Timoy Janeyo Jones in Montego Bay, Teejay learned early on to just work with it. To most people from outside Jamaica, Montego Bay is an idyllic resort city, but it has a shadier side that doesn’t make travel brochures or TV commercials. One in which families of nine like Teejay’s — he grew up with his mother, uncle, five brothers and one sister — live in small board houses, in sometimes dangerous neighborhoods (like Glendevon, where Teejay’s family lived). His brothers were all musicians who as kids picked up digital production and recording software like FruityLoops and Pro Tools to produce music. Naturally, Teejay took to them as well.
“I started recording myself at the age of 9,” he says. “Every day, I would come home and see them recording with Pro Tools and I’d just sit there for hours, and when they’d gone, I’d just record myself.”
Michael Buckner
The autodidactic method worked. By the time Teejay was in seventh grade, he decided to leave school behind and focus on music full time. “My teacher asked me, ‘What do you want to be in life?’ And everybody in the class said they want to be a policeman, a lawyer, a judge, a doctor. I tell the teacher I want to be an artist. She said, ‘That’s not professional. Give me something else.’ I said, ‘Entertainer!’ ” When he was supposed to be taking notes, Teejay was instead tapping out riddims on his desk. His teacher told him that he needed to take that noise to the music class — so he did.
The way he saw it, he could help his family much more financially if he dedicated his time to growing into an artist like 2Pac or the Jamaican great Jah Cure — two of the MCs idolized in his neighborhood. “Growing up in my community, we listened to 2Pac every single day. Once you’re a Montegonian, you’re going to know about 2Pac and Jah Cure music.”
His focus paid off when Tommy Lee — fellow Montegonian and controversial mentee of incarcerated dancehall star Vybz Kartel — let Teejay rock with him and his crew, even helping the fledgling artist score his first live performance in 2010. The experience left Teejay feeling like he could actually become a star. But it would take a good while longer before the dreams in his mind materialized outside of his head.
Steve Jobs famously said, “Good artists copy, great artists steal.” Teejay watched the artists who were remaking dancehall in the early 2000s — artists like Movado, Aidonia, Busy Signal and Tommy Lee, who were all more different than similar — and studied what made them connect not only with Jamaican fans, but the throngs of dancehall fans around the world. He took bits and pieces from each one’s style, creating a dancehall sound that was fluid, melodic and, at times, lyrically crazy.
Over the next eight years, he produced a torrent of music, culminating in his 2018 regional hit, “Uptop Boss.” Though it didn’t make much noise in the United States, the slinky gangster dance track was a massive hit on the island; its official video has racked up over 16 million views on YouTube.
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Then, tragedy struck: Two of Teejay’s close friends, who often appeared in his videos and lyrics — Romario “Grimmy Boss” Wallen and Philip “Afro-Man” Lewis — were gunned down in St. Andrew, Jamaica, on June 4, 2020. (The two were reportedly just hanging out on the block when a shooter pulled up and opened fire.) Condolences poured out from fans and fellow dancehall artists, with many posting photos and comments on Instagram. But Teejay went quiet: He deleted everything on his Instagram page except for two posts of his departed friends.
Wallen’s and Lewis’ deaths derailed Teejay’s momentum just as he was finding his footing as an artist — but they were also a wake-up call. He took time away from music, leaving the country for a bit and settling at a friend’s house in Miami to refocus his energy and clear his head. His friends’ deaths affected both his physical and mental health: He changed his diet and started to eat healthier, in turn losing a lot of weight. But the biggest change wasn’t what he was putting into his body — it was what he put into the world.
He no longer wanted to make music that was overtly gangster. “Hardcore music has a barrier,” he says. “It can’t be played in a Christian home or in certain homes. I decided that we’re not going to go violent; I want to do something happy.” To achieve that, he decided to make some changes — starting with who handled his business. “Jamaican artists don’t even know what a proper management is,” Teejay says. “As a Jamaican artist, we have to still go out there and look for a chauffeur ourselves and an interview, everything. Some people don’t even know that some people in Jamaica who say that they’re a manager are basically a booking agent.”
Sharon Burke, the leader of Teejay’s new management team since 2021, is much more than a booking agent. Co-founder and president of the Kingston, Jamaica-based Solid Agency, Burke has worked for years to bring reggae and dancehall music to a global audience. She has had a hand in the success of many of Jamaica’s biggest superstars, including Freddie McGregor, Barrington Levy, Bounty Killer and Aidonia. And her company produces the annual Island Music Conference, bringing the wider music world to Jamaica. When it came time to set up the Verzuz battle between Bounty Killer and Beanie Man — ultimately watched by over 3 million — it was Burke who Verzuz creators Swizz Beatz and Timbaland turned to.
Burke believes in Teejay — that he has what it takes to really leave a mark on the game much as some of her previous clients have — but she has impressed upon him that good music alone won’t take him to the top “I said, ‘Listen, if you’re just going to sit by and think it’s talent alone, I can’t work with you. It’s hard work. It’s about presentation. It’s about excellence. It’s about choreography in the way you move. So, if you’re ready for that journey, I will go it with you.’ ”
Michael Buckner
One of the first things Burke did was to connect Teejay with Panda, one of their in-house producers. While Teejay was in Miami getting his mind right, he began to think beyond the boundaries of the genre he’d worked within for so long. He loves dancehall — it’s the music he was raised on and the music that changed his life — but he understands that, right now, dancehall and reggae aren’t as popular as they once were.
Back in 2003 — when Sean Paul was hopping on remixes with Busta Rhymes, when LL Cool J jumped on Wayne Wonder’s “No Letting Go” remix, when Elephant Man had everyone ponning de river — new dancehall artists were making serious waves in rap and R&B music. Fast forward to 2021, when the bestselling reggae and dancehall artists in the United States were Paul, Bob Marley and Shaggy. No new artists broke onto the Billboard Hot 100 that year.
Now, another type of Black diasporic music, Afrobeats, has assumed the position reggae and dancehall once occupied. Over the past three years, an increasing number of new African artists have broken onto the charts with big singles, like Wizkid and Tems’ 2020 hit, “Essence,” the first Nigerian song in history to appear on the Hot 100, reaching No. 9 on the chart. Now, mainstream American rappers like Drake and Future and singers like Chris Brown are tapping the genre’s ascendant stars to help them move units. Future’s first Hot 100 No. 1 as a lead artist, for instance, came courtesy of a song that heavily samples Tems’ song “Higher” from her 2020 EP, Broken Ears.
“They’re saying now that Afrobeats is bigger than dancehall,” Teejay says. “I was at a show where there was an Afrobeats artist on the stage — I won’t say any names — and he was saying ‘our music is your music’ because they took pieces of all the legendary [dancehall] artists’ music.”
He took to the makeshift studio in the garage of his friend’s Miami house, puzzling over a riddim he’d had in his head for close to three years but couldn’t quite figure out how to translate into a workable beat. He wanted to make something that was new but also paid homage to the warm dancehall feeling that radiated from songs made by legends like Supacat and Shabba Ranks. Then, one day in 2022, he received a batch of beats from Panda. “I called the beat-maker and said, ‘Bro. You got it. This is good.’ ”
What he got turned into “Drift,” the slick dancehall ditty that could easily be mistaken for an Afrobeats song if not for its decidedly dancehall drum programming and, of course, Teejay’s perfectly syncopated bars that swell into what has become an inescapable chorus.
“Me and the team, we created something called ‘Afro dancehall,’ ” he says with a laugh. “It’s more of an Afrobeats song with a dancehall artist on it. At the time, dancehall music was kind of slow and really toxic, based on everything that was going on in Jamaica. I was like, ‘We need to embrace happiness [in] the world. Something everyone can dance to.’ We created that old dancehall feeling where people just want to dance. It’s simple math. We used less words and more melody so people can remember it.”
That last, key idea came to Teejay from his mentor, Shaggy, the platinum-selling superstar who’s also one of Burke’s partners at Solid Agency. Combining reggae and dancehall with music from around the world and making it as simple as possible to sing along to has been a Shaggy trademark since he dropped the Marvin Gaye-sampling “Boombastic” back in 1995. “He has been telling me, ‘Listen: choice of words,’ ” Teejay says. “ ‘Try to say less, but make sure it’s effective and that people can understand it.’ ”
“[Teejay’s] incredibly talented. He’s a guy that is making music outside of the box and he also works extremely f–king hard,” Shaggy says. “And I think that is the formula that is needed to have a very long and successful career.”
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A little luck also helps, and it was on Teejay’s side when it came to promoting “Drift.” He gave the song to a DJ who then leaked it on TikTok, and it took on a life of its own, becoming a top-used sound on the platform. Soon, celebrities like Jamaican Olympic gold medalist Usain Bolt and Cardi B were making TikToks doing the dance from the music video. “Drift” became Teejay’s first Billboard chart entry, landing at No. 47 on R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay.
While the song took Jamaican and U.S. audiences by surprise, its success isn’t that shocking to Shaggy. “In the early days, when I played stadiums in Africa, the majority of the music they were playing was dancehall,” he recalls. “The traditional music that you might hear from Fela Kuti and some of these original artists over there wasn’t the type of music you would hear in the nightclubs. Dancehall is what you heard in the nightclub. Whether it be Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, those are the songs that were played — dancehall. It has had a very strong influence on the African culture. So, to me, it’s all one.”
What does the future of dancehall look like if one of its most popular artists is co-opting the sound of another genre to make waves internationally? “If you listen to dancehall from the 2000s, it’s a totally different dancehall than what we have today. The sound of it is different,” Shaggy says. “The dancehall they make today is more a trap kind of dancehall. That’s just evolution at the end of the day. With an artist like Teejay, it gives him the opportunity to experiment and try a different vibe.”
On Dec. 15, 2023, Teejay released an official remix of “Drift” featuring none other than leading Afrobeats artist Davido (the song also has a couple of rap remixes at this point). He sounds perfectly at home on the track; if you didn’t know any better, you might assume that Teejay was the guest feature. Its success, and Teejay’s own, are proof that there’s an audience for this new sound, one that keeps dancehall’s driving groove intact while mixing in the breezy and blithe feel of Afrobeats. And if anything, it proves dancehall is at its best when pushed to new limits.
“I hope [new artists] keep experimenting and keep finding new ways,” Shaggy says. In other words, they just got to work with it.
“Do you have my black purse?” Sexyy Red asks one of her team members as she makes her way in front of the camera. As her brazen track “Sexyy Red for President” blasts in the background, the breakout St. Louis rapper pulls out two massive wads of cash, carefully placing one atop her trademark bright red wig as if it were a crown.
For all the boisterous energy of her high-octane hit singles, Sexyy Red is pretty quiet in person. The clock’s approaching midnight on the day of her Billboard photo shoot — and she’s quickly approaching the birth of her second child — so her relative calm is understandable. Nonetheless, as each new song from the deluxe version of her Hood Hottest Princess mixtape booms through the room’s speakers, Sexyy quickly shifts into boss mode, helping direct her shoot. She’s undoubtedly a star — and she was one long before “Pound Town,” her January collaboration with Tay Keith, changed her life.
As hip-hop celebrated its 50th anniversary in 2023, Sexyy Red became a dominant force in the cultural conversation around the genre and where it’s headed next. Go to a college party blasting her “Hellcats SRTs,” or watch a club explode when “Yonce Freestyle” drops, and the 25-year-old rapper’s influence is obvious. From the tongue-in-cheek “Looking for the Hoes” to the Chief Keef-evoking “Shake Yo Dreads,” her music resonates with anyone willing to engage with and embrace their ratchet side.
Unlike many of her female peers, Sexyy’s raps aren’t drenched in metaphors and punchlines; her lyrics sound as if she’s saying the very first thing that pops into her head — which is exactly the case. When she spits, “B-tch, if it’s some beef, let me know, sh-t, what’s up?/All that talkin’ on the net, that’s gon’ get your head bust,” in “I’m the Sh-t,” Sexyy isn’t weaving subliminal shots throughout intricate wordplay — she’s plainly addressing her opps with equal parts humor, apathy and stone-cold seriousness.
According to Luminate, Hood Hottest Princess has collected 447.6 million official on-demand U.S. streams, helping it reach No. 13 on the Top Rap Albums chart, as well as making appearances on Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums (No. 21) and the Billboard 200 (No. 62). Sexyy has charted a pair of top 10s on the Mainstream R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay ranking: “SkeeYee” (No. 6) and “Rich Baby Daddy” (No. 2), with the former also becoming the inaugural No. 1 hit on the newly launched TikTok Billboard Top 50.
This digital cover story is part of Billboard’s Genre Now package, highlighting the artists pushing their musical genres forward — and even creating their own new ones.
Sexyy dominated 2023 amid a notable lull for her genre overall in the marketplace. Last year, no hip-hop artist topped the Billboard 200 until mid-July, when Lil Uzi Vert’s Pink Tape became the first No. 1 hip-hop album since Metro Boomin’s Heroes & Villains the previous December, marking the longest gap between No. 1 hip-hop albums since a 34-week drought in 1992-93. In September, Doja Cat’s “Paint the Town Red” became hip-hop’s first Billboard Hot 100-topping single since Nicki Minaj’s “Super Freaky Girl” in August 2022.
Both “Paint the Town Red” and Pink Tape were buoyed by the danceable, top 40-friendly sounds of pop-rap and Jersey club, respectively, signaling a shift from the 2010s, when dominant trap artists regularly launched new singles and albums to the tops of Billboard’s marquee all-genre charts. While Sexyy didn’t make quite the commercial impact of “Paint the Town Red” or Uzi’s “Just Wanna Rock,” her remarkable string of 2023 hits suggests hip-hop may evolve in a new direction: one in which less crossover-aimed rap can still captivate the culture, and in which a woman with Sexyy’s raw, raucous style can achieve mainstream dominance without a top 40-friendly hit.
Born Janae Wherry, Sexyy grew up in St. Louis listening to the likes of Webbie, Boosie BadAzz and Trina — artists that embody the unapologetically hood energy that now courses through every Sexyy Red song. As Sexyy points out, they were all revered for their fearlessness. But achieving that kind of bravery herself took some time.
“When I was little, I always knew [I was a star] because I was just different,” Sexyy says. “I was worried. I was quiet. But everybody used to want to be my friend. I was pretty, my hair was real long, my mama knew how to dress me. Everybody used to just be flocking to me, but I was shy. I didn’t want to talk to nobody. I’ve always been that person for real.”
Michael Tyrone Delaney
That kind of authenticity is now helping her fans access their own — one two-and-a-half-minute track at a time. From the start, Sexyy’s career has felt organic and, at first, low stakes. Growing up, she always had a creative spirit: “I used to think I was going to be a painter. I used to design my Barbie dolls’ clothes. I used to be doing hair. I just was multitalented, so I knew I could do it, but I just didn’t know how,” she says.
When a former boyfriend broke her heart in 2018, Sexyy reacted in the most hip-hop way possible: She recorded a dis track. The response among friends was so overwhelmingly positive that even the song’s subject encouraged her to seriously pursue music. (“He’d have me rap the song to his friends,” Sexyy recalls.)
From that very first song, listeners clamored to hear Sexyy’s specific voice, her cadence, her energy, her off-the-cuff rambunctiousness tempered with sincerity. Performances at local clubs and parties soon followed — “A free party? And I get $50 just to go up there and just do something? Why not?” — as did a debut mixtape, 2021’s Ghetto Superstar, and support on social media from R&B star Summer Walker. But it took a mixture of old-school grind and new-school social media prowess — and a little help from the music industry — for Sexyy to harness the zeitgeist.
In 2021, Rebel Music, an independent Miami-based label and management company, signed Sexyy after coming across some of her early tracks. “Once she got off the plane and I heard her voice, I knew she was a star,” recalls Vladimir “Sunny” Laurent, Sexyy’s A&R executive. “Like, her voice, it just tells you who she is.” By mid-2023, Miami-based distributor Open Shift and gamma — Larry Jackson’s media company that creates, distributes and markets content with a specific focus on Black culture — “reached out to [Rebel] and expressed interest not only in Sexyy, but their broad platform [too],” according to Dave Gross, who became Sexyy’s manager around the same time. (Sexyy remains signed to Rebel Music, while gamma and Open Shift handle distribution of her music.)
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In January 2023, Sexyy Red dropped the track that would change the course of her career. “Pound Town” is emblematic of Sexyy’s ethos: Say what you feel, and do that before anything else. From “too many b-tches, where the n—as at?” to “My c–chie pink, my bootyh–e brown,” her impulsive bars quickly drew listeners in, inspiring a litany of memes across TikTok and X (formerly Twitter).
The track also brought “p—y rap” — which music journalist Robyn Mowatt describes as “a subgenre of rap where women embrace their sexual prowess” in the face of “the patriarchy and misogyny” common in the male-dominated rap world — to the fore of hip-hop discourse. As female MCs have seized the mainstream, p—y rap has dominated, with Sexyy as one of its most prominent purveyors — even if she disputes the classification.
“I don’t agree with that [classification], because why is that the only thing you heard me talking about?” she says. “That’s the only thing that you got out of everything I just said? You just heard me say ‘c–chie’? I hate when they say that. I just rap about my daily life. Girls that live like me, I just rap about what we go through. I don’t sit and talk about c–chie all day.”
She’s right. What has made Sexyy such a contentious subject of hip-hop conversations is that she embodies an energy and perspective many are comfortable glamorizing without respecting. In lyrics like “When I don’t hear from my n—a, I write him/He a bad boy, I don’t care, that’s how I like ’em/Yeah, free my n—a ’til it’s backwards/F–k the police, f–k the pigs, they some bastards,” she’s not conjuring a scene to give the illusion of a hood aesthetic — she’s literally pulling from her real life.
“Authenticity is self-relative, and for Sexyy, it’s that she’s independent, fierce, strong, unafraid of the world’s opinions and unbowed by backlash,” Gross says. It’s not about whether she’s acting “hood” — it’s about expressing those qualities and aesthetics authentically in her music and performance. Sexyy is always being Sexyy, first and foremost.
“Pound Town” peaked at No. 66 on the Billboard Hot 100 following a remix with Nicki Minaj, marking Sexyy’s debut on the chart. “I specifically had the vision to make sure that we got that done and out by Memorial Day weekend so that we could just own the f–king summer,” says gamma CEO Larry Jackson, who was instrumental in orchestrating the remix. “That, to me, was like throwing a lit match in dry shrubbery.”
As scores of streaming-era artists know well, it is easy for a viral hit to overshadow the artist behind it. Sexyy Red and her team sought to avoid that, Jackson says, delivering a constant stream of singles and remixes to support Hood Hottest Princess. The project arrived alongside the official single release of “SkeeYee,” a raucous party anthem named after a cat-calling phrase frequently used in Sexyy’s hometown of St. Louis.
“SkeeYee” quickly became a staple on locker room playlists across the country, the go-to celebration song for athletes from college football’s Ole Miss Rebels to MLB’s Baltimore Orioles. Its success shifted Sexyy into a different tier from her peers like Kaliii and Flo Milli. Most mainstream female rappers are ignored by straight male audiences save for a verse or two, but Sexyy had that demographic captivated for an entire calendar year — from the countless videos of ecstatic male fans at her festival appearances to Travis Scott’s giddy embrace of “SkeeYee” during his 2023 Wireless Festival set.
“She’s the female Gucci [Mane]. She sounds like Trina. Everybody thinks she’s like a p—y rap artist, but she’s not really,” Laurent says. “She makes music for dudes who like fast cars. That’s why dudes connect with her so well. Everybody loves her, from the LGBT community to [straight] women — it’s all walks of life.”
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“Hellcats SRTs” (along with its Lil Durk remix) and “Shake Yo Dreads” added two more hits to Sexyy’s résumé, and smart features on NLE Choppa’s “Slut Me Out” and DaBaby’s “Shake Sumn” kept her momentum going. In 2023, ratchet party rap reemerged in popularity, and Sexyy led the charge with music and energy reminiscent of iconic voices like Waka Flocka Flame and Chief Keef. “I see Sexyy Red as a female me,” Waka says. “How people are like, ‘Man, Waka’s music just ratchet!’ It was records outselling me by millions of copies, but they can never get played inside the club.”
Neither “Pound Town” nor “SkeeYee” was a major Hot 100 hit, reaching Nos. 66 and 62, respectively, but they still captured and defined the year for large swaths of consumers; Sexyy landed six entries on the TikTok Billboard Top 50. And after her hit linkup with Minaj, she spent the rest of 2023 maximizing her commercial reach by collaborating with another Young Money icon.
According to Gross, Drake reached out to Sexyy via DM around the time the rest of the industry began to truly take notice of her. So, between supporting Moneybagg Yo on his Larger Than Life Tour and headlining her own Hood Hottest Princess tour, Sexyy opened for Drake and 21 Savage’s blockbuster It’s All a Blur Tour. That cross-country trek set the stage for Sexyy’s highest-peaking Hot 100 entry yet, “Rich Baby Daddy” (No. 11), a track from Drake’s For All the Dogs album that also features fellow St. Louis native SZA. “Rich Baby Daddy” also became her most beloved track yet (by critics and fans alike), on an album that also featured heavy hitters from Bad Bunny to J. Cole — an indicator of how quickly Sexyy had risen in the industry.
Her stint on Drake and 21 Savage’s tour also laid the groundwork for her own headlining tour, which her team estimates sold 75,000 tickets across 28 shows — a rare feat for a female rapper, especially one so new to the game, and a testament to the strength of the Sexyy Red brand in a year that had numerous cancellations of hip-hop tours and festivals.
“Touring was stressful at first, because nobody knew I was pregnant,” Sexyy explains. “I’d be in the bedroom trying to suck my stomach in or wear clothes to show I wasn’t. It hurt to just be onstage all day holding your stomach. It’s hard to hide it.” For an artist like Sexyy, deeply committed to presenting herself authentically, the decision to do that was deeply personal, and tactical: She shot more than 10 music videos, made several festival appearances, went on three tours and performed at awards shows — and did most of that while carrying her second child.
“Being pregnant is stressful; it wears your body down. I was tired, but I tried to hide it as much as you possibly could,” she says. “I like to have a personal life. I’m already famous or whatever, so everything be out there. I be trying to have something to myself that I could keep. Just go home and be with my son and my family. That’s the reason I was hiding.”
Michael Tyrone Delaney
Gross recalls one summer stint in which Sexyy “hopped off the stage with Drake, hopped on a jet to make it to a Moneybagg Yo show, did an afterparty after the Moneybagg show, then at six or seven in the morning took another jet to go the next city where the Drake tour was.” That kind of work ethic is what drew him to Sexyy in the first place.
It’s the same energy Sexyy started the year with after the father of her baby got locked up. “I don’t got no more distractions. I can work now,” she says. After every show, she went straight to her 2-year-old son, Chuckie — a testament to how she manages to balance work with her personal life. “This year was very unique and there was an extremely heightened sense of concern” around the impact of Sexyy’s promotional schedule on her mind and body, Gross says. “Our game plan is always going to be to take our cue from the artist.”
As quickly as she has become a pop cultural touchstone, Sexyy has stirred up plenty of controversy. In October on the podcast This Past Weekend With Theo Von, she said, “Trump, we miss you” — arguing that “they support him in the hood” because “he started getting Black people out of jail and giving people that free money.” One conspiracy theory accuses her of being a plant by the CIA to destroy the Black community, while some posts on X have called for Jackson’s condemnation to hell because of his involvement in promoting Sexyy.
For Sexyy, wanting to be in the rap game for the long haul has meant finding a way to exist amid all that noise. “It don’t really faze me, because I know what’s going on in real life,” she says. “I just do me. I be really nice.” And, in real life, Sexyy is connecting with audiences because she’s giving them the space to revel in their ratchetness. “In my opinion, she is the first one post-pandemic who brought us a hot summer,” Jackson says. “She dropped music that made us feel good for the first time in four years about being outside again.”
“I think she’s every woman’s spirit animal. That rambunctious girl that says anything she feels. She says things people are afraid to say,” adds Laurent. “She’s like a heroine in a way.”
In 2024, Sexyy Red has one goal: “I’m showing my ass. I’m going to just be getting richer, bigger, more trendier. I’m going to be everywhere,” she says. “I’m going to be in it for the long haul, [but] not even on purpose, though. Even if I try to stop rapping, they’re going to take some sh-t, turn it into something, put me on the blogs, make it something it doesn’t even have to be, so Imma be here for a minute.” Her manager is aiming for “three or four albums next year. That might be ambitious,” he acknowledges. “But I want 2024 to be the year of Sexyy Red like 2023 was.”
Michael Tyrone Delaney
In December, she dropped a deluxe edition of Hood Hottest Princess featuring collaborations with Chief Keef and Summer Walker, and she has also scored rising hits in “Bow Bow Bow (F My Baby Dad)” and “Free My N—a.” The negative response to the latter in particular — some critics contended that the song and music video contributed to the glorification of the incarceration of Black men — exemplified the vitriol that has moved some veteran female rappers to defend Sexyy.
“We don’t know what [Sexyy is] going to be talking about on the third or fourth album, but right now we’re talking about where we came from,” Trina tells Billboard. “We’re talking about the bottom. The gutter, the trenches, the dirt, the slime, the scum. All of that. Some people have just grown above it and they’re not in the hood no more, but everybody has not got to that place yet. You can’t expect them to be talking about the most lavish things in life and they haven’t addressed where they from and what they’ve seen and how they seen it. Give them a chance to grow. Give them a chance to elevate. Give them a chance to evolve. They’re still young women. They’re still under 30 years old. They still have time to do whatever they want to do, but this is just the beginning.”
Sexyy’s vision and hope for hip-hop’s future is centered in the same principle she has upheld since “Pound Town” blew up: authenticity. For her, that’s the only way to know “who really f–king with you when you’re just being yourself and not trying to pretend.”
And for her heroes — like Boosie BadAzz, the only artist she requested to hear during her Billboard photo shoot other than herself — it’s the reason her voice is so needed in rap right now. Sexyy is “a girl from the hood who finally got her chance to speak and it’s accepted,” Boosie says. “When I listen to her music, it’s like the girls from my project talking. You got to respect it or watch other people respect it. We got a voice, too. The hood has a voice, too. A lot of people don’t respect it because they don’t understand it.”
Perhaps that’s what the future of hip-hop looks like under a Sexyy Red dynasty: a scene where a young woman can captivate a nation with her own perspective and narrative while also giving a voice to the place some of the culture’s most overlooked movers and shakers come from — and where none of that is just a performance. As usual, Sexyy puts it best herself: “I’m just doing me in this rap sh-t.”
A packed crowd writhes along to the buzzing beats thundering from the speakers. It’s a warm Wednesday night in November, and onstage at Brooklyn’s Baby’s All Right, 23-year-old Houston-based producer Odetari is performing one of his first shows. The 300 or so people assembled range from the middle-aged to young adults to actual children — several of whom are perched on their parents’ shoulders and shouting the lyrics to songs like “I LOVE U HOE,” “GOOD LOYAL THOTS” and Odetari’s latest, “GMFU,” an acronym for “got me f–ked up.”
This lattermost track is a collaboration with 6arely Human, a 22-year-old electronic artist from Fort Worth, Texas, whose own shows are similarly hectic and whose audience is similarly age-agnostic. Since its July release, “GMFU” — a dark, thumping anthem about “going dumb” from partying — has accumulated 91.9 million on-demand official U.S. streams, according to Luminate. (Their second collaboration, “Level Up,” arrived Jan. 8.) Odetari’s catalog has racked up 475.4 million on-demand official U.S. streams — a number that swells to 612.6 million when including data from user-generated content on platforms like TikTok — and he has clocked 11 entries on Billboard’s Hot Dance/Electronic Songs chart in 2023. 6arely Human’s catalog has 67 million official on-demand streams, ballooning to 96.5 million with UGC.
On a recent Friday afternoon in Los Angeles, Odetari and 6arely Human make an eye-catching pair: the former in bulky streetwear, his new grills twinkling when he flashes a wide, easy smile; the latter sporting a pink corset, black platform boots, an enviable black velvet duster and perfectly applied black lipstick adding up to a look that evokes both the rave world and of his two biggest inspirations, Kesha and Lady Gaga.
Until this past August, 6arely Human was managing a Panera Bread, slinging bagels by day and spending his nights making music, clothing and TikToks. And until earlier this year, Odetari was a substitute teacher, a gig he says he did purely “for the paycheck.” Now, both electronic producers are TikTok stars, but they’re making significant IRL inroads as well. In 2023, both signed with Artist Partner Group, and they’ll take their high-powered — if not yet totally polished — shows on the road in 2024.
“Our role is to challenge, inspire, support and remove friction points on the path to success,” says APG founder and CEO Mike Caren, who notes that consistency is key to turning internet stardom into more tangible success. “They have the talent, uniqueness, work ethic and originality to achieve huge goals.”
This digital cover story is part of Billboard’s Genre Now package, highlighting the artists pushing their musical genres forward — and even creating their own new ones.
Despite the lyrical content of their music (“Don’t cheat me/Believe me/I am a f–king c–t,” 6arely Human announces on “GMFU”), there’s a sense of purity about both acts. They represent a nascent style of extremely online dance music, defined by woozy productions that speed up, slow down and generally capture the sound of the global online dance community from which they hail, the DIY vibe of the early rave era and the ultra-modern world of TikTok stardom. APG senior director of A&R Andre Herd, who signed 6arely Human, says that the producer “stood out from the crowd of internet artists because he had been building an in-person fan base through underground raves and parties.”
The electronic scene has always been cobbled together from many niche genres and sounds. Together, Odetari and 6arely Human are continuing that tradition while pushing it further — making music forged online that’s now transcending the internet, translating to very real popularity.
6arelyhuman photographed on December 1, 2023 in Los Angeles.
Michael Buckner
Tell me about the first time one of your songs went viral.
Odetari: I always kind of knew that going viral on TikTok, especially with music, is usually a one-time thing if you don’t do it right. The first song [of mine that] went viral [2023’s “Narcissistic Personality Disorder”] hit 256,000 streams in a day, which was crazy to me, because I had never passed 10,000 on a song. I saw how fast it went up and got really excited, but I tried to tell myself, “Don’t get too excited, because you don’t know if this could drop.” Then the next day it dropped by half. So, I was like, “What do I do next? I have to keep this momentum going.” It was like a roller coaster.
What was your strategy when you saw the numbers go down by half?
Odetari: Just rapid-fire dropping [of new music]. Whatever worked for that first thing, you’ve got to keep doing that again and again [while expanding your catalog]. The song that went viral was mostly beats, so the next songs were filled with actual structure and lyrics, so there was steady replay value. That’s what I just kept doing.
6arely Human: I relate to him. My first viral song was also doing this up and down thing. But it started to really go [up] when I would see a bunch of videos from people that were creating things and making edits with their own ideas with the song. I remember specifically that one of the things that helped a lot was a [fan-made] South Park edit [that played the song “Hands up!” over images from the show]. [Virality] is a lot about what people do with the song once it comes out.
Odetari: Also, a lot of people making music similar to ours were not showing their faces. We definitely made sure to also attach [our] image to [the music], because a lot of songs that blow up on TikTok, people will scroll and hear the song, but they don’t really care about it or the person who made it. I feel like we really nailed it on that, [by each of us] attaching [our] images and connecting with the fans.
You’re both from Texas. How much of what you make is a product of where you’re from versus from being on the internet?
6arely Human: A lot of my inspiration is definitely from the internet, but I feel like there’s something about where you’re from that you put into your music, and it just adds the salt and pepper element. There is that little Texas spice.
What specifically makes it Texas?
6arely Human: The way I say things on a song, and the words I use. I don’t know if everyone’s going to be saying “y’all” on an electronic song, but it sounds cool.
Odetari: I definitely have influence from Houston, especially with the slow, chopped-and-screwed stuff. A lot of my music slows down toward the end. When I was growing up, I looked up to Travis Scott. Me and his sister went to the same school, and we were pretty close friends. She kind of took me along the journey when he was first starting, going backstage and stuff. Seeing where he was with [debut solo 2013 mixtape] Owl Pharaoh to where he is now just really shaped a lot of the things I want in life.
Odetari photographed on December 1, 2023 in Los Angeles.
Michael Buckner
Let’s talk about the sound of your music itself — because sure, it’s electronic, but it’s something else, too. What do you both call your sounds?
6arely Human: I call mine “sassy scene.” Sassy Scene was [the name of] my first album, and a lot of the songs that were on that project had a similar sound. The word “sassy” is just the feeling you get listening to it, and then “scene,” that could mean the style, because there’s different subcultures of the way that people dress that connect to the music. “Scene” is the community as well, because there’s a lot of people that make similar stuff. Everyone’s making up different words for it — the most common one is obviously “hyperpop.” And then “scene core,” “crush club.”
Odetari: Some people call it “sigilkore.” I call my stuff “Odecore,” but I would just categorize it under electronic dance music.
What are the characteristics of the people in your scene who are consuming your music and making similar music?
6arely Human: There are really colorful outfits; a lot of people love the fur [raver] legging things. I see those a lot, and then arm warmers and a lot of accessories — fur and pink. Scene fashion is almost emo, too, that kind of mixes with ravers.
Is this scene happening everywhere? Or is it centralized in Texas? Or is it mostly on the internet?
Odetari: It’s really well respected in the U.S., but overseas they really love it. Poland and Germany, where they have those underground raves that just go crazy, I feel like they’re the ones that really like it. They really get it.
What do your shows look and feel like?
6arely Human: Very lively. There’s a lot of energy. It’s mostly younger people, but there are also people that maybe get a nostalgic feeling, too [for the early rave days]. There is a wide range of people. Everyone’s really excited, and it’s really fun, honestly.
Odetari: Sometimes you have to scream in the mic. They’ll scream over you. They know the lyrics. They’re really dedicated. It’s an awesome fan base for shows. The age range is pretty wide.
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Within your scene, is there a particular worldview or set of values or a philosophy?
6arely Human: I’m not sure about that one.
Odetari: It’s so new, so we’re learning it, too. It kind of goes back to everyone who has made similar music to ours but never shows their face. They’ve never really taken it to a performance level. We’re some of the first to be performing music like this, so we’re figuring out what the best way to do that is. It’s experimental.
Have there been hits and misses in translating your music to a live setting?
6arely Human: For sure. Some of my songs are sped up a little bit, and it’s hard to key the music, too, if you’re using live Auto-Tune. Everyone’s doing the sped-up thing, or slowed down, or even both.
Odetari: My music speeds up, then slows down and then is normal. For performances, it’s not ideal unless you do a DJ set, I guess. But again, we’re figuring it out.
6arely Human: A lot of the people that are there at the live shows, I feel like sometimes they just want to see you on the stage singing. Even if you’re not giving the best vocals in the world, they just love the song so much that they just want to see you up there having fun as well.
Since you’re both so deeply online, maybe it’s just exciting for people to see that you both actually exist. Do you feel like underground acts?
Odetari: I don’t know. The numbers are not really underground.
6arely Human: I feel like we were, but since everything happened rather quickly it hasn’t really hit me yet.
Odetari: It hasn’t hit me, either.
Do you see yourselves performing in arenas, or is the preference sweaty underground warehouses?
6arely Human: I don’t know about arenas. You never know. Maybe. But I really do like smaller, intimate shows. They’re more fun. I love jumping in the crowd, starting mosh pits.
Odetari: A 2,000-[capacity venue], those are really the best shows.
Odetari & 6arelyhuman photographed on December 1, 2023 in Los Angeles.
Michael Buckner
What do your friends and family back in Texas make of your success?
6arely Human: A lot of people don’t know. A lot of people where I live might not be as tuned in with internet stuff. I don’t know how to explain, like, “Oh, yeah, we just made this in our room and then put it on an app called TikTok and now we’re here.” It’s weird to explain to people that don’t really get the internet.
Obviously, a lot of electronic music is made for parties. How much do you connect to that partying aspect of the electronic world?
6arely Human: The type of music we make is something people can just have fun to and not really think about everything else that’s happening. Our type of music, whenever you play it, people just want to jump around and have fun and go crazy.
Odetari: You don’t even need to know the lyrics. You can just vibe to it.
Do you feel connected to other realms of the dance music world?
Odetari: I personally don’t, because I really don’t listen to music. I only listen to video-game soundtracks now, so I really don’t know what’s going on in music that much. I think it helps me not get too influenced by anything.
6arely Human: I feel the same way. Anything that’s new, it’s probably just me listening to my friends or someone I actually know. Most of the music I listen to and take inspiration from is really old. From, like, 2010 or 1998.
“I forgot to wear the knee pads,” Karol G says ruefully. “I’m going to have scrapes.”
She beams. For a soaking wet pop star who has just been dragged through a shallow pool, Karol looks remarkably happy.
Moments before, a group of writhing, shirtless male dancers had lifted Karol, dressed in a white bikini and transparent baggy pants, high above the water as she performed a medley of songs from her unprecedented past year in music, including material from her chart-topping February album, Mañana Será Bonito; the edgier August follow-up, Mañana Será Bonito (Bichota Season); and a small teaser of her new single with Kali Uchis, “Labios Mordidos.” Her arms knifed back-and-forth through the pool in fierce synchronicity with her platoon of dancers — all water-drenched sexiness, but a punishing physical routine nonetheless. After Karol dries off, wrings out her pants and gets her glam touched up, she’ll do it all over again.
“I want it to be spectacular,” she says matter-of-factly of the roughly four-minute Billboard Latin Music Awards performance. To that end, she enlisted renowned choreographer Parris Goebel, whose work includes Rihanna’s Super Bowl halftime show performance, to continue pushing her as a dancer. “Dance doesn’t come so easy to me,” Karol admits. “To do the things I do, I have to rehearse a lot.” Earlier this year, Goebel choreographed Karol’s MTV Video Music Awards performance.
“She understands what I want to express in my movements, and also, she gets something out of me that I’m still in the process of understanding,” Karol says. “I’ve learned a lot about myself this year. Even though it would seem I’ve arrived at a point where I could relax and let things run, life keeps showing me that I’ve still got a lot of things to do, a lot of things to give.”
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Twenty-four hours later, Karol is calm (and dry) in a quiet Los Angeles studio, talking with her usual expressiveness and candor in sentences punctuated by crescendos, accents and exclamations and augmented by enthusiastic gesticulations. In her many music videos, Karol usually presents one of two ways. There’s the bichota, or badass, sexy and powerful and not afraid to show it. And then there’s the smiling (or occasionally melancholy) girl next door who enjoys celebrating love and doesn’t shy from displays of vulnerability. In person, the young woman born Carolina García in Medellín, Colombia, is all those things, but she’s also warm, exuberant and disarmingly earnest, a demeanor that has remained intact through my many encounters with her over the years, even as her popularity has soared.
Her hair is pulled back in a tousled ponytail, its platinum color matching the short, clingy silk dress that shows off her sculpted physique. At 32 years old, Karol has worked hard to look like this. Earlier this year, her doctor prescribed an eating plan to alleviate a long-standing colon disorder; at the same time, after a lifetime of exercising, she upped her training regime to be able to perform for three hours in a stadium. “I wanted to be healthy, and I needed to do a ton of cardio for the shows. And my body began to change,” she says. “It was beautiful because I’d always been told certain changes took time, and it was true.”
You could say the same of Karol’s upward career trajectory. She just wrapped an extraordinary year in which she became the first Latina woman (and second artist ever) to top the Billboard 200 with an all-Spanish-language album (Mañana Será Bonito); the top female Latin artist on Billboard’s year-end charts (behind only Bad Bunny and Peso Pluma); and the winner of album of the year at November’s Latin Grammys, as well as urban album of the year — the first woman to win the latter.
Karol is also the first Latina (and still one of only a few women) to headline a global stadium tour and the highest-grossing Latin touring artist of the year by far. According to Billboard Boxscore, in 2023, she grossed $146.9 million from just 19 shows and sold 843,000 tickets through Nov. 19, almost doubling the $86.7 million the Latin runner-up, RBD, grossed from 18 shows in the same period.
Karol G photographed November 11, 2023 at The Powder Room Studio in Los Angeles. Balenciaga jacket, Intimissimi underwear, Replika Vintage shoes.
Vijat Mohindra
Beyond her accolades — or perhaps, more accurately, behind them — is Karol’s shrewd business sense. Her long-standing recording agreement with Universal Music Latino, which signed her to her first major deal in 2016, ended after Mañana Será Bonito came out in February. Instead of re-upping or accepting any of the “incredible” deals she says other labels offered, she launched her own Bichota Records, invested in its staff and infrastructure — much of it based in her native Colombia — and inked a distribution deal with Interscope that provides her with that company’s full, multinational support and staff but lets her keep her masters moving forward, including Bichota Season’s.
“We wanted to stay in the Universal family,” says Noah Assad, who has managed Karol since 2020, now through his Habibi Management. “They’re the ones who bet on her in the beginning, and we believe in longevity. No one knows an artist more than the infrastructure who had you in the beginning.”
Even so, he adds, “She was ready to build her own label, her own structure, her own team. She was already betting on herself without getting the gain. Independence is not just being independent; she had to build this whole infrastructure. Not every artist is made for independence, but knowing that she could [be] made it the right decision.”
Landing Karol, says Interscope executive vp Nir Seroussi, came from “a very practical conversation that I had with [manager and friend] Noah, asking, ‘What do you want?’ And he said, ‘She’s a boss. She wants to feel empowered, and she’s ambitious. She wants to have a seat at the table with the Billie Eilishes and the Olivia [Rodrigos] of the world.’ ”
Karol’s message to the label, Seroussi recalls, was clear: “I’ve come this far. I want more. I want to sit next to general-market artists because that’s how I feel: Latina but with an A-league fan base.”
But as she eyes mainstream global stardom, Karol is, as usual, prepared to be patient.
“It’s a fine line,” she notes. “In that rush to go global, music can lose its essence. So we’re going step by step. Yes, they’ve brought proposals [to the table], but I’m not in a rush. It would be amazing to fill stadiums in Asia, for example, but I truly feel happy and thankful with what I’m doing today. We’ll find the way.”
In an era of ever more rapid rises to stardom for Latin artists — witness Peso Pluma and, before him, Bad Bunny — Karol G’s ascent has been steady but slow, even laborious, and compounded by being a woman in a Latin world where female-led hits historically are scant. She started as a child pop act, competing on Colombia’s X Factor at 14, and didn’t hail from the barrio but from a solid middle-class family. When reggaetón descended on her native Medellín, she got hooked, but pursuing a career in the genre presented additional hurdles: She started recording and performing it at a time when men completely dominated the genre — as they still do — and she was considered an oddity, facing a highly skeptical industry: Aside from Ivy Queen a generation before, there weren’t any other women to measure her against.
But alongside her producer/co-writer Ovy on the Drums, Karol developed a sound — melodic, lyrically conversational, sparsely arranged and open to experimentation — that was very much geared toward women, touching on themes of empowerment and vulnerability with a genuinely personal point of view and embracing sexuality without being too overtly sexual. Stars like Nicky Jam and J Balvin endorsed her and recorded with her, and in 2016, Universal signed her.
“People got ‘married’ to Karol G,” says Raymond Acosta, head of talent management for Habibi, which also represents Bad Bunny, Eladio Carrión and Mora. “Her fans, even when they disagree with her, see her as a sister. For many of them, she’s not simply an artist. She’s family.”
A prolific, and by all accounts tireless recording artist, Karol built her fan base by being sincere on social media, by constantly releasing music and by maintaining a clear, consistent vision of who she was and what she wanted. Her debut album, 2017’s Unstoppable, released when she was 26, debuted at No. 2 on Billboard’s Top Latin Albums chart, back when she had 3.5 million Instagram followers; today, she has 70 million.
Her first big hits were collaborations with men, beginning with “Ahora Me Llama” with Bad Bunny in 2017, which peaked at No. 10 on Hot Latin Songs. Her first No. 1 was 2018’s “Dame Tu Cosita,” alongside El Chombo and Pitbull. By then, Karol had been at Universal for three years without a massive hit of her own. All around her, reggaetoneros were scoring quick Hot Latin Songs No. 1s, even as she relentlessly released music; to date, she has logged 60 entries on the multimetric chart, the most for a Latin female artist.
“I started in 2006, and now it’s 2023,” says Karol bluntly. “My first songs were 15, 16 years ago. You spend all that time working and thinking, ‘When is my time?’ People on social media always show the goal: the cars, the money, the luxury goods, and everyone at home is thinking, ‘Why doesn’t that happen to me?’ But it’s not that easy. Everything has a process. Yes, I sometimes had doubts, but if I didn’t do this, what was I going to do? I am music. Every time anything happens to me, I want to write a song. Everything for me is a song.”
Tiffany Brown catsuit and jacket, Retrofête x Keren Wolf earrings.
Vijat Mohindra
Finally, in fall 2019, she released the song: “Tusa,” a track about getting over heartbreak, which she wrote with Ovy on the Drums and Keityn and recorded with Nicki Minaj. It spent four weeks at No. 1 on Hot Latin Songs, underscoring Karol’s status as a Latin artist to contend with, who could collaborate with a top American rapper, while cementing her place as a woman who could relate to other women, tell their stories, voice their concerns, vent for them. (It also established the potent trifecta of Karol, Ovy and Keityn, which has since churned out a succession of chart-topping hits including the No. 1s “Provenza” and “TQG” with Shakira.)
“As a woman, she has always had a very clear notion of her identity and what she wants to tell fans, and she has taken that female power to the next level, making women feel like bichotas,” says Ovy, referring to the title of the global Karol hit that has become synonymous with female power. “She has always been very clear about what she wants to musically show the world, and as her producer from day one, I’ve always understood every move she makes. Anything she has in her mind, I turn into music.”
There is a definite line between stardom and superstardom, and for several years, Karol G inched ever closer to the latter, yet didn’t quite reach it. She played clubs, festivals, shows throughout Latin America, anything to be seen, but never had a proper routed headlining tour. Still, her second album, 2019’s Ocean, debuted at No. 2 on Top Latin Albums, and she became the top Latin female artist on Billboard’s year-end charts, a spot she has maintained ever since. She also toured the United States for the first time as a guest on Gloria Trevi’s 21-date Diosa de la Noche trek.
In 2021, she got her first Top Latin Albums No. 1 with her intensely personal KG0516 and launched her first headlining tour, playing theaters. The Bichota Tour — named after the single but by now synonymous with Karol herself — grossed $15.4 million, sold 214,000 tickets and opened Karol’s eyes to possibilities she hadn’t seriously considered. A major catalyst was the icy blue wigs — matching Karol’s hair color on the album cover and her cold, vulnerable state of mind — that fans took to wearing to the shows, an unprecedented display of fandom for a Latin artist.
“I think it was the way each person connected more closely with me,” Karol reflects. “It wasn’t just the blue wigs. I noticed [later] so many people changing their hair color in step with me. I thought it was extraordinary how a hair color can define a moment in your life.”
More importantly, “I realized that, thank God, this Karol G thing was a family and not a moment. I felt these people were there with me and would always be there, no matter what,” she says earnestly. Reading social media comments guided her. Fans who had seen her years before in a club now wanted to see her in a theater. “I began to understand there was a connection. When someone came and said, ‘I think you’re ready to do arenas,’ I thought, ‘Why not? If 3,000 people saw me in a theater, it means there are 12,000 more people who didn’t see me. Let’s go sell arenas.’ ”
Paumé Los Angeles bodysuit, Jimmy Choo shoes.
Vijat Mohindra
The ensuing $trip Love arena tour in 2022 grossed $72.2 million and sold 424,000 tickets. Which again made Karol and her team consider bigger venues — in this case, stadiums.
“It’s sort of mind-boggling to sit here in early November 2023 and think that in November 2021 she was starting her first headline tour of North America ever,” says UTA partner Jbeau Lewis, booking agent for Karol and Bad Bunny, among others. “The fact that she headlined predominantly theaters in 2021, then arenas in 2022, then jumped to stadiums in 2023 is unprecedented for any genre. I think it’s easy to talk about Karol as a leader in Latin music, but based on the success she has had, especially in this year, she should be spoken about in the same breath as Taylor or Beyoncé.”
A year ago, Karol and her team weren’t even contemplating a stadium tour. The plan was to finish the arena tour in 2022, release Mañana Será Bonito in February 2023 and take a break — as much for herself as for her fans, who had seen her tour two years in a row — save for three Puerto Rico stadium shows in early March.
Then, Mañana Será Bonito exploded. When Karol played the first of the three Puerto Rico dates, she included a handful of the album’s songs, accompanied by her guitarist. Fans clamored for more, and by the third date, she was performing the entire album — and fans were singing along to every word.
“At that point, I realized I had to be very, very aware of what was happening with this music,” she says. After playing three stadium dates where fans knew all her brand-new material, she felt the moment was ripe for her to hit the road again.
A Karol G concert is a bit of a spiritual experience, one that unites multiple generations of Latin women under a single roof. Grandmothers and children cry in unison; professional women let their hair down and wear different-colored wigs. And in a twist, men know the songs, too.
“The most beautiful thing about my shows is people arrive with the intention to heal,” Karol says. “Their intentions are so beautiful that when I go onstage and all that energy is directed toward me, I feel like a battery that’s recharging and filling up, and sometimes I cry a lot in my shows. I try not to, but my heart feels like it’s going to burst.”
Replika Vintage bra, BIG HORN eyewear, Paumé Los Angeles bracelets and earrings.
Vijat Mohindra
After her arena tour, Karol had been able to summon the same energy for her Puerto Rico stadium shows. Now the challenge was to extend that into a full stadium tour.
“The first step was sitting down and making the decision to do stadiums. This was the subject of a lot of discussion with my team. Someone said, ‘You’re going to play stadiums? Beyoncé plays stadiums. Taylor Swift plays stadiums. Are you ready for that?’ I said, ‘No, I’m not ready. But I will be.’ ”
Her team crunched numbers and came up with six safe markets. Those six dates quickly became nine when New York, Los Angeles and Miami sold out and second dates had to be added. From there, the tour mushroomed to 16 dates in 13 cities.
Less than the team being resistant to the tour, Lewis says, “It just wasn’t the plan. Generally speaking, when you go out and tour in stadiums, you need 18 months to a year to execute. We made the decision in March to go out on tour in August, with a very short runway. But all of the signals were there. There was such demand. Rolling immediately into second nights in Los Angeles, Miami and New York was incredible, and that gave the team confidence to say, ‘Let’s add more cities to this tour.’ Then doing things like her headlining Lollapalooza and coming back six weeks later in Chicago and selling 52,000 tickets in Soldier Field, that’s really unprecedented.”
For Karol, the crash course of preparing to play stadiums came with intense pressure: Not only would she be performing for crowds of 50,000 or more, she would be doing it during the same summer as the Renaissance and Eras tours. “Karol G couldn’t be the one who looked like she had no business doing it,” she says.
“It was an enormous personal challenge, from how I looked, to how I thought, to how I put it together,” she continues. “I didn’t feel I was ready until I saw the videos from the first two dates. I always judge myself horribly, and nothing is exactly how I want it. But in this tour, as a woman, I played the videos and said, ‘Wow, I love what I see.’ ”
Incorporating new music presented its own challenge. Soon after announcing the tour, Karol released Mañana Será Bonito: Bichota Season, a companion set that highlighted a completely different side of her: tougher, sexier, more experimental. To explain it, she wrote a book about the two versions of herself represented in the two albums and handed it to her tour designer. “I said, ‘This is my story. This is Carolina’s book, and I want her to be a siren.’ And they found the way to put it all into the show.”
While top Latin touring acts have long played stadium dates in Latin America, the notion of a conceptual tour is still relatively rare, and in the United States, only a few Latin artists have done multicity stadium tours. Karol benefited from the expertise of her team, including Assad and Lewis, which had already put together Bad Bunny’s two stadium tours, as well as the rock-solid family foundation that’s an intrinsic part of her business structure. In addition to Acosta, who handles her day-to-day at Habibi, since at least 2019, her sister, Jessica Giraldo, has also functioned as a “360,” overseeing all aspects of Karol’s career, including the growing Bichota Records and its staff; her Medellín office, Girl Power, which runs her merchandise business, among other projects; and her philanthropic Con Cora (“With Heart”) Foundation.
“Strategically, we have a great structure, and there are many, many people focused on massifying Karol’s vision,” says Giraldo, an attorney. “The big change Noah brought when he came on was globalizing the project. He opened the door to big mainstream festivals and big deals, for example. Raymond is his right hand in this project. And I’m the connection between the artist and everything else. I know Karol perfectly well; she’s my sister. But on the professional side, I’ve learned to understand her vision and execute it.”
Balenciaga jacket, Intimissimi underwear, Replika Vintage shoes.
Vijat Mohindra
While families and musical careers don’t always mesh, Karol’s has been an organic part of her structure from the very outset of her journey. Her father, a musician, fostered Karol’s ambitions, managed her until she signed with Universal and was the only person to join her onstage when she won the Latin Grammy for best new artist in 2018. Today, he isn’t part of her actual business, but he is part of her personal support network and, along with her mother, a constant presence at her shows and milestone moments, including this year’s Latin Grammys and Billboard Latin Music Awards, where he sat by her side.
“My family is everything to me,” Karol says. “[Fame] conditions real friendships and real relationships. Having my family — the most real and pure thing — around me makes me feel I’m not living in an ephemeral world where everything is transitory. Having them around me is also my way of thanking them for everything they did for me.”
That backbone will be essential come February, when Karol kicks off her 20-date Latin American stadium tour before an expected European run — all told, a seven-month trek, her longest time on the road yet. As ever, while on tour, she’ll link up with Ovy on the Drums and other writers for sessions to maintain a constant output of singles.
But at this point in her life, she’s ready to handle it all.
“If you ask me what I’m most proud of in the past year, it’s the independence we accomplished,” Assad says. “But I’m very proud of how hard she worked during the pandemic, going from the pandemic to theaters to arenas to stadiums. That all happened from 2020 to 2023, and that’s just amazing.”
Beyond music, Karol will make her acting debut on the Netflix scripted drama series Griselda alongside Sofía Vergara in January. And her Con Cora Foundation for women, launched this year, already has ongoing projects in sports, education and rehabilitation, including a program with the Houston Space Center to send Colombian teens to visit NASA.
“I’m bummed this era will end because definitely it’s the time I reaped what I sowed,” Karol says. “All these years working for something, and finally, that something is working for me. All these things I thought could happen, I trusted they would, and they did.”
When asked what comes next, Karol hesitates for a moment, as if wanting even more would seem too greedy for someone who already has so much.
“I’d love for my music to be heard everywhere, and, truthfully, I’d like my name to be heard all over the world,” she finally says. “Last year, we went to Santorini [Greece], to Kenya, to Dubai [United Arab Emirates], on holiday. And when people asked us where we were from and I said, ‘Colombia,’ the reaction always was, “Oh, Shakira, Shakira.’ ”
And then, in typical, demonstrative Karol G fashion, she holds up her arm to me. “See? I get goose bumps just thinking about it because that must be the ultimate. To have everyone in the world know your name.”
This story will appear in the Dec. 9, 2023, issue of Billboard.
After Morgan Wallen wraps his sold-out Nov. 10 concert at Atlanta’s Truist Park with a crowd singalong to his 2019 No. 1 “Whiskey Glasses,” he enthusiastically roams the edge of the stage, crouching down, eager to get close to his ardent fans. As they thrust albums, cowboy boots and cardboard signs into his hands, the 40,000-seat stadium suddenly starts to feel more like a 200-capacity club.
Wallen has come prepared. He pulls out the appropriate black or silver Sharpie from his jeans pocket and yanks off the cap with his teeth, then autographs each item and poses for selfies. Even once the stadium lights have switched on and people have started to head toward the exits, Wallen is still hanging out. Finally, he starts to jog off, but then stops, turns around and runs back to autograph one more sign — the one that reads “You’re our entertainer of the year” — before leaving the stage for good.
The sign is a nod to Wallen’s prowess as an energetic, engaging performer — his Atlanta audience had no clue he was on antibiotics and was so concerned about a possible return of his spring vocal cord issues that he didn’t talk to anyone for hours before the 90-minute show, including postponing this interview. But it was also a reminder that, although he had lost entertainer of the year 48 hours earlier at the Country Music Association (CMA) Awards — and weathered a potentially career-ending scandal in 2021 — he remains tops with his millions of fans.
When time allows, the post-show autograph session is a nightly ritual. “I like looking them in the eyes,” a recovered Wallen says 10 days later over Zoom in his first major interview in two years. He’s dressed head to toe in gray camo, on his “lunch break” from hunting deer on the 1,700-acre farm outside Nashville he bought earlier this year with his booking agent and good friend, Austin Neal. He has scrubbed off his camo face paint: “I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of you,” he says with a good-natured grin.
“There’s usually a few people every night where I’m just like, ‘God, that is like the happiest person in the world right now,’ and I always pick those,” he says. “I’m almost tearing up thinking about it. It’s just like, man, I mean a lot to this person, I can tell. I try to tell them, ‘Hey, I saw you up there. I saw you tonight.’ ”
Those fans helped make Wallen, 30, the biggest winner at this year’s Billboard Music Awards, which are based on year-end performance metrics on the Billboard charts. The Big Loud/Republic artist won 11 trophies, including top male artist, top Hot 100 artist and top country artist, as well as top Hot 100 song for “Last Night” and top Billboard 200 album for One Thing at a Time — the first time a male artist has captured the latter two in the same year since Usher in 2004. He dominates the country year-end charts, claiming the No. 1 spot on 12 of the genre’s 28 lists, including Hot Country Songs, where “Last Night” succeeds 2022’s year-end chart-topper, Wallen’s “Wasted on You.”
Wallen’s groundbreaking accomplishments transcend country, too. When “Last Night” hit No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in March, it became the first song by a solo male country artist to top the chart since Eddie Rabbitt’s “I Love a Rainy Night” in 1981. Once it reached the summit, “Last Night” spent 16 nonconsecutive weeks there, the most ever for a noncollaboration. (Wallen nixed the idea of releasing remixes to potentially propel the song past the 19-week record held by Lil Nas X’s “Old Town Road” featuring Billy Ray Cyrus, says Big Loud partner/CEO Seth England, who heads Wallen’s label and co-manages him with K21’s Kathleen Flaherty. “Morgan loves the original version, and he had made it that far on his own music and accord,” he says.)
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When One Thing at a Time debuted at No. 1 in March, its predecessor, 2021’s Dangerous: The Double Album, logged its 110th nonconsecutive week in the Billboard 200’s top 10, second only to the Sound of Music soundtrack and the most by a solo artist since the chart began publishing weekly in 1956. One Thing at a Time has spent 16 nonconsecutive weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard 200, the most for any album since Adele’s 21 in 2011-12. And, after debuting at No. 1, the album logged the next 31 weeks in the top five.
As country music experiences its biggest surge in popularity since the Garth Brooks era three decades ago, Wallen (alongside Luke Combs) is the tip of the spear for the genre’s new generation, which includes Zach Bryan, Lainey Wilson, Jelly Roll, Bailey Zimmerman and Wallen’s frequent writing partner and close friend, HARDY. He has shifted country’s streaming calculus by releasing albums that contain more than 30 tracks and racking up tremendous consumption tallies: One Thing at a Time’s songs earned 498.3 million on-demand streams in its first week, the most ever for a country album, according to Luminate. Through the third quarter of 2023, country music’s on-demand audio and video streaming grew by 24% year over year — and Wallen accounted for 31% of that growth. Of all country music on-demand streams through the same period, 10% belonged to Wallen. For the first time since the 2013 launch of the year-end Streaming Songs Artists chart, a country act (Wallen) leads the list, and a country song (“Last Night”) is No. 1 on the year-end Streaming Songs chart.
He’s catching the eye of legendary country artists, who now study his methods. “This is a new generation that is streaming, which is something new to Dolly,” says Dolly Parton’s manager, Danny Nozell. “What Morgan is doing, I want to take and see how I can apply that to Dolly.” (To wit: Parton released the longest album of her career, the 30-track Rockstar, in November.)
Similarly, Luke Bryan, who calls his good friend Wallen a “world-class songwriter, singer and performer,” was also impressed by Wallen’s new-school methods. “His ability to relate to fans by way of introducing new songs by performing them on socials was truly a brilliant way to build his career,” he says.
“When I started doing this, I had no intentions or expectations of becoming that guy,” Wallen says of being the de facto leader of this new country movement. “But yeah, I’m definitely proud of it. Especially when people say to me that they never liked country music before and now it’s [their] favorite.”
Rye 51 shirt, PAIGE jeans, Tecovas boots.
Daniel Chaney
As massive as Wallen’s following is, in early 2021 and for quite some time afterward, it looked like he could lose it all after a neighbor gave TMZ video footage of him using a racial slur. But Wallen’s fans never abandoned him — in fact, they rallied around him.
Their fervor was, in some ways, a testament to how, in a sea of male country artists who often seem interchangeable, Wallen has always stood out — not only for his instantly recognizable raspy twang, but for the intimate tone of his songs, many of which he co-writes.
“There’s a level of conversation Morgan brings to a song that makes him such a strong writer; you immediately feel invested in the story,” says Miranda Lambert, who co-wrote One Thing at a Time’s “Thought You Should Know” with Wallen and Nicolle Galyon. In February, the song became his eighth No. 1 on the Country Airplay chart; he has already scored two more.
While he leans toward tried-and-true tropes — the cry-in-my-beer midtempo ballad, the playfully cocky you’re-going-to-wish-you-never-left-me tune — he often injects them with a vulnerability that’s the antithesis of last decade’s bro-country movement. And by infusing many of his traditional country melodies with rap cadences and beats and alt-rock guitars, Wallen has expanded his audience far beyond country’s typical listenership.
“I obviously have brought some of my own flavor into the space and everybody doesn’t necessarily like that, and I don’t care because I love it,” says Wallen, whose favorites range from indie-rockers The War on Drugs to country rebel Eric Church to rappers like Moneybagg Yo and the late Young Dolph. “I love being able to incorporate all the types of music that I like. If I had to sing one kind of song for two hours, I’d lose my mind.”
The first stadium show Wallen played was on May 31, 2018, as one of three supporting acts for Bryan at Toronto’s Rogers Centre. It was also the first stadium show he had ever attended. Bryan had heard Wallen’s 2017 hit “Up Down” and felt “it spoke to just the right audience, and I knew then I wanted Morgan on tour with me.”
“I remember going out there and it was like, ‘Gawwwwd!’ It just felt so massive,” Wallen says. Five years later, stadium stages feel like home. “We played in Austin [five days ago] in an arena. There were 12-13,000 people there, and it felt tiny,” he says. “Then we played the stadium in Houston [two days later], and it was like back to normal again.” He laughs as he catches himself, knowing there’s nothing normal about his life these days: “What? That’s not normal.”
Growing up in Sneedville in East Tennessee (2021 population: 1,315) and then outside of Knoxville, Tenn., where his family moved when he was in middle school, Wallen, the son of a public school teacher and a minister (his father is now a semitruck driver), had no money for luxuries like concerts. Any extra cash went to support his baseball career: He was a star pitcher and shortstop in high school before an arm injury his senior year took him off the diamond for good.
“When baseball ended, that was really tough because that’s all he was thinking about,” England says. “I think he probably transformed that into a new drive and [thought], ‘I’m going to have to really work hard at something else.’ ”
Now he’s filling the ballparks he dreamed of playing in as a kid. This year, the One Night at a Time tour played three nights at the Boston Red Sox’s Fenway Park and had double plays at venues including San Diego’s Petco Park and Atlanta’s Truist Park, the respective homes of baseball’s Padres and Braves. Through Nov. 18, the tour had grossed $300.4 million and sold 1.5 million tickets, making it the highest-grossing country tour ever reported to Billboard Boxscore.
“The charisma has always been there, but now [the show] is so tight,” says Neal, head of The Neal Agency and Wallen’s booking agent since 2017. (Neal launched his company in early 2022 following his departure from WME, several months after Wallen left the agency.) Wallen used to talk and fidget much more onstage. “We used to say he’d go on a soliloquy, but now he’s so dialed in. Plus, he can’t talk that much because he’s got so many songs that he’s got to play.”
LTIFONE sweater, Mister Freedom jacket, Nudie jeans.
Daniel Chaney
Still, in April, Wallen’s vocal load caught up with him. Minutes before he was to go onstage for a second sold-out night at Vaught-Hemingway Stadium in Oxford, Miss., 45,000 fans learned he had lost his voice and couldn’t perform. After powering through a few more shows several days later, a visibly upset Wallen told his more than 6 million Instagram followers that doctors had ordered him to go on vocal rest for six weeks, resulting in the postponement of multiple shows.
Though Wallen says he isn’t “the type of person that really worries a lot,” the experience scared him, especially after some doctors told him his voice might be permanently altered. He was spooked “100%” by what happened in Oxford, England says. “During that stretch, he was having real trouble with his voice. It was rough.” But unlike in Oxford, when Wallen started having vocal issues the week of his Atlanta shows, he had doctors at Vanderbilt and his vocal coach — who taught him methods to make singing more sustainable and joined him in Atlanta — at his disposal.
The support system that has sprung up around him is a far cry from 2014, when Wallen was working as a landscaper in Knoxville and competed on The Voice. Back then, he could certainly move more freely, without the bodyguards he requires now.
“Everything has gotten so, so huge,” he says. “I don’t really go to the grocery store. I have to go through back doors to go to the doctor and all that kind of stuff. I still try to hold on to as much [normalcy] as possible. I like driving, so I try to drive as much as I can by myself.” Adjusting to fame has been tough at times for Wallen, and he’s not sure that he has. When old friends don’t invite him to events, it sometimes bothers him, even though he knows the disturbance his presence can cause. And he has found a second use for the camo gear. After hunting, he sometimes leaves on his cap, camo top and a little face paint, just enough so that he can “sneak around, just wherever I can go, maybe a Mexican restaurant.” Otherwise, he says, “I play my shows, I hang out with my son, [Indie, 3], and I hide pretty much. And I’m OK with that. I’m happy as hell with that.”
HARDY, who has toured with Wallen off and on since 2018, speaks more bluntly about the limitations fame has placed on his friend. “In the last couple of years, he handles himself so much differently out on the road. He protects himself from situations that might get him in hot water,” he says. “He doesn’t go out to bars. If there’s a good time to be had, we have it backstage where we’re safe and where f–king people aren’t videoing and trying to get a rise out of somebody. We will still have the same amount of fun, but we do it in an environment [without] the public eye on us anymore. It sucks that you can’t really do it that other way, but you just can’t when you get Morgan Wallen famous.”
If Morgan Wallen wasn’t already aware of how famous he was, he found out Feb. 2, 2021, when TMZ published that video of a drunk Wallen (on “hour 72 of a 72-hour bender,” he later said) casually using a racial slur as he told a friend to get another friend home safely. TMZ’s post included an apology from Wallen, but the reaction was swift and severe. Radio playlists pulled his music, his booking agency dropped him, awards shows deemed him ineligible, and his own label suspended him.
It wasn’t the first time Wallen’s behavior had raised flags. He was arrested for public intoxication and disorderly conduct in May 2020 after a disruption at Kid Rock’s Nashville bar, and five months later, Saturday Night Live revoked its invitation to perform after he violated the show’s COVID-19 safety protocols. (The show had him on two months later.) But Wallen says that the experience in 2021 truly showed him “just how much that people listen to me. I don’t think I realized that, at least not at that grand of a scale at the time,” he says, carefully weighing his words. “I [learned] how much my words matter.”
Now, nearly three years later, Wallen says, “That person is definitely not the same person I am now.” He doesn’t diminish the hurt his words caused or question the actions the industry took, but he admits to feeling anger that so few gave him the benefit of the doubt and rushed to brand him a full-blown racist.
“There’s no excuse. I’ve never made an excuse. I never will make an excuse,” Wallen says of using the slur. “I’ve talked to a lot of people, heard stories [about] things that I would have never thought about because I wasn’t the one going through it. And I think, for me, in my heart I was never that guy that people were portraying me to be, so there was a little bit of like, ‘Damn, I’m kind of actually mad about this a little bit because I know I shouldn’t have said this, but I’m really not that guy.’ I put myself in just such a sh-t spot, you know? Like, ‘You really messed up here, guy.’ If I was that guy, then I wouldn’t have cared. I wouldn’t have apologized. I wouldn’t have done any of that if I really was that guy that people were saying about me.”
“Any of that” included meeting with several Black leaders, including 300 Elektra Entertainment chairman/CEO Kevin Liles, Universal Music Group executive vp/chief people and inclusion officer Eric Hutcherson and Grammy-winning gospel artist Bebe Winans, as well as with the Black Music Action Coalition (BMAC) and other groups in an effort to educate himself; his process “to learn and try to be better” continues, he says.
“I think that moment was a cloud with a silver lining because I think it showed him he has a platform that can do good,” HARDY says. “He realized, ‘I’ve got to get my sh-t together.’ ”
One such platform is the Morgan Wallen Foundation (formerly the More Than My Hometown Foundation). By February 2022, Wallen and Big Loud (on behalf of Wallen from his royalties) had donated $500,000 to organizations including The National Museum of African American Music, Rock Against Racism and the BMAC. Three dollars from every concert ticket Wallen sells goes to the foundation, which primarily helps underserved communities through supporting music and sports youth programs, and has donated over $1 million in 2023, including $100,000 to the Atlanta Braves Foundation and $500,000 to Habitat for Humanity of Greater Nashville to help revitalize a baseball and softball complex.
Despite this philanthropic push, don’t expect Wallen to use his sizable platform to speak out on social or political issues. When asked if he plans to endorse a presidential candidate in 2024, he swiftly answers, “No,” before continuing: “That’s not where my head’s at. I’m not an expert. I just don’t know enough to try to guide people. I know what I know, and that’s music.”
Stitched custom shirt, jacket and pants; Tecovas boots.
Daniel Chaney
Following the incident, Wallen says he did a 30-day stint in rehab in San Diego, and he has since drastically changed his drinking habits on the road. “That used to be my warmup — to get half lit: ‘I’m going out there, and we’re going to go have fun.’ Now, that is not the way I approach it,” he says.
Part of the change is just plain logical: playing massive stadium stages, “there’s a lot more ways you can fall than there is on a little one,” he says with a laugh. But his lifestyle changes (and the boost in his confidence level that has resulted) have also completely altered how he approaches performing. “I used to be scared to even think about what it would be like to play a show without drinking: ‘That sounds terrible. Why would I ever do that?’ And now I’m almost scared to wonder what it’d be like if I was drunk.” As far as drinking off tour, “I’m still figuring out my personal life,” he says. “I probably always will be.”
Despite the work he has done to make amends, there are still inroads to be made. While his fans fervently stood by him — sales of Dangerous soared 102% the week after the incident, and he headlined a 55-date arena and amphitheater tour in 2022 — not everyone was ready to move on.
Since the scandal, Wallen’s name is seldom heard when nominations or winners are announced at peer-voted awards shows. In November, he didn’t receive any Grammy nominations (though “Last Night,” which he didn’t write, is up for best country song), and Wallen, who won best new artist at the 2020 CMA Awards, went 0-3 at the CMAs this year. (Dangerous did win album of the year at the 2022 Academy of Country Music Awards.)
England acknowledges that “some people have no intention of forgiveness, but that’s also OK. Morgan realized that he has just got to control what he can control. He’s certainly not getting shut out in these awards because he’s a bad musician.”
Wallen shrugs off the snubs. The CMA losses “bothered me for like five minutes,” he admits. “And then I’m like, ‘Why am I mad? I’m about to go play for 80,000 people in Atlanta.’ ”
Daniel Chaney
And there are other recent victories to celebrate, like sharing the BMI Country Awards’ songwriter of the year honors with Combs on Nov. 7 — meaningful recognition for Wallen, who says he has heard criticism that he doesn’t write enough songs on his albums or relies too much on his co-writers. He has nothing but praise for the writers who contribute to his records but admits with a wry chuckle that the BMI Award was “validating … It’s kind of like maybe I do know a little bit about what I’m doing.”
Wallen has released collaborations with top country names including Eric Church, Chris Stapleton and Florida Georgia Line, as well as with Diplo and rapper Lil Durk. (Their “Broadway Girls” reached No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart in 2022.) But he’s well aware that he hasn’t yet released a game-changing co-ed duet like Jason Aldean and Carrie Underwood’s “If I Didn’t Love You” or HARDY’s murder ballad “wait in the truck” with Lainey Wilson. However, he quickly adds, it’s not for lack of trying.
“I’ve reached out to a couple of people, and they’ve turned me down,” he says, declining to name names. “I just really want certain people, and I haven’t gotten the chance to do it yet. I’m going to keep trying to write songs for it or write with them.”
England says the timing hasn’t worked out, adding that Wallen sent a song for his next album to a noncountry artist as a possibility. “The answer was bittersweet,” he says. “It was, ‘Holy sh-t, this sounds like a global No. 1 record, but I just can’t do it right now.’ ”
Wallen says he “would love” to write with more women, but admits he frequently returns to his very successful “little squad” of collaborators “because I’ve just been slammed, and when I’m not on the road, I’m spending time with my son or hunting. I haven’t really wanted to branch out much just because I needed to keep myself sane.”
One new collaborator eager to work with Wallen: Post Malone. The artist, who is recording a country album, wrote with Wallen, ERNEST and Charlie Handsome, among others, when he was in town to perform with Wallen and HARDY at the CMA Awards. But Wallen confesses that Post Malone’s studio hours were hard for him. “[He] likes to write really, really late at night — and I can’t do that three nights in a row. I can do that one night,” he says with a laugh. “I can start about 5 p.m., but starting at 10 p.m. — that’s rough.”
A little while ago, when HARDY was at Wallen’s house, they headed out to his workshop. “Indie was in the bed. Morgan’s out here looking for an outlet to plug in a baby monitor. I was just like, ‘Man, that’s something I didn’t think I would see five years ago,’ ” HARDY says.
In Atlanta, the tow-headed Indie giggled in delight as he ran through the empty stadium concourse before showtime, pushing a toy dump truck and exuberantly honking the horn on a full-size forklift. “Anything about a vehicle or any part of it, that’s all he cares about,” Wallen later says, grinning broadly.
Wallen and Indie’s mother split before he was born and share joint custody. But Wallen says fatherhood happened for him at the right time. “It gives me something to focus on that’s not just all about myself because for a while, I had to be super selfish. I had to mostly focus on myself or [my career] wouldn’t work,” he says. But now, “it’s nice to really think about someone other than yourself and about what you’re passing down. He’s my favorite thing about life.”
And Wallen’s friends say fatherhood changed him. “Having a son really grew him up fast,” Neal says.
Becoming a dad made him look at life differently, Wallen says, including sparking an interest in expanding into businesses outside of music. In addition to buying real estate, he’s working with Plus Capital to find the right investments, including his recent affiliation as investor and brand ambassador with upstart Ryl Tea, which aligned with his desire to partner with health and wellness brands. “I like having a bunch of different things for me to focus on. [Otherwise], I’ll get bored,” he says. “I have a lot of opportunities, so I’ve been trying to take them.” Will one of those opportunities be, as is a rite of passage of sorts for so many country stars, opening a bar in Nashville? England says only: “It has been discussed. Stay tuned.”
But first, Wallen will spend much of 2024 carrying on with the One Night at a Time tour. In addition to continuing to make up this spring’s postponed dates and a headlining show at the Stagecoach festival, Wallen has added 10 more markets, many with multiple nights at stadiums, including three at Nashville’s Nissan Stadium.
Also potentially ahead: a full-blown international tour, perhaps in 2025. After starting 2023’s tour in Australia, Wallen ended the year with a Dec. 3 show at London’s O2 Arena that sold out in one hour. It was his first time in Europe, and Neal is exploring the best way to proceed globally. Wallen is up for the challenge: “I think it would be fun to go try to win people over again,” he says.
Next year, he’ll also return to the studio. Though more singles are coming from One Thing at a Time, Wallen is already writing and reviewing outside songs for his fourth album. Handsome, who co-produces Wallen’s music with Joey Moi, predicts the next one will be his biggest yet. “I’m expecting to see more songs that can go No. 1 at pop radio because I think people have seen that a country singer with a very Southern voice by himself without a feature can still have a No. 1 Billboard hit,” Handsome says. “Morgan’s leading the way for what country music is now and what it’s becoming.”
When England compares Wallen to another artist, it’s not a fellow young country superstar or a legend of the past, but another especially prolific and versatile performer affiliated with Republic: Drake. “Drake can do a hardcore R&B song, a trap rap song or a Caribbean-tinged beat global pop song,” England says. “I think Morgan is that in our genre. His voice is always going to be country even if he’s singing pop melodies, and the verses are likely to have some country imagery. But when it’s time to sing the big runs and melodies, the guy can do it. Even though he’s got a lot of older fans, he’s certainly got the young kids just wrapped around the sound right now. I don’t think that’s just a short-term thing. I think the guy’s got the ability to do that for decades to come.”
This story will appear in the Dec. 9, 2023, issue of Billboard.