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Travis Scott, Drake, Lizzo… and Jean Dawson. The list of artists that R&B superstar SZA has collaborated with in 2023 is stacked with some of the music industry’s biggest names, but a Gen Z genre-non-conforming auteur from San Diego gifted the “Kill Bill” singer her most poignant duet of the year just in time for fall (Sept. 22).
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“NO SZNS,” a breezy reflection on the all-consuming stupor of California heat, combines both artists’ penchant for introspective songwriting, unflinching examinations of the most incomprehensible of human emotions, and instrumental arrangements that pull from indie rock as readily as they pull from hip-hop and soul. Its music video, a cinematic take on childhood laced with arguments and discord, finds Dawson stepping behind the camera, bringing SZA into his intimate and idiosyncratic visual world.
The new track follows a slew of projects (“side quests,” as Dawson describes them) that are filling the void between 2022’s Chaos Now* — a grungy, ambitious set that featured collaborations with Earl Sweatshirt and production contributions from Isaiah Rashad — and the Mexican-American artist’s forthcoming LP. While he is still unsure of the timeline for his next studio effort, Dawson is certain the album will be “beautiful,” mostly because he has completely rejected the compartmentalization circus that has consumed much of the music business.
“I want to build music without having to focus on everything that I am,” he says. “I want to fractalize myself.”
In paying special care to each facet of his being that makes him an artist who has enraptured a sprawling ever-growing audience across races, ages, and genres, Dawson continues to follow Prince’s uncompromising, do-it-himself blueprint. Whether it’s incorporating his native Spanish tongue into his music at his own pace or touring alongside acts as disparate as Interpol and Lil Yachty, Jean Dawson is currently undergoing yet another metamorphosis – and he’s particularly excited about what lies ahead and how he can continue to subvert everyone’s expectations. “I want you to guess,” he teases.
In an intimate conversation with Billboard, Jean Dawson opens up about his upcoming European headlining tour, his thoughts on the utility of record labels, trying to figure out “what James Blake would sound like if he was Mexican” with his upcoming project, nostalgia and iPad kids.
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Walk me through how “No SZNS” (with SZA) came to be.
In the DMs. That’s how we started talking. She liked the music a whole lot. I think it was maybe a day after she had DMed me — she was working on her album [SOS] at the time — we hung out for several hours and just talked. It was sick. I didn’t realize how alike we were in a lot of different ways, and we worked on some other stuff.
[“No SZNS”] I had been working on prior, just like arrangements and stuff like that. There’s a lot of instrumentation on it, so I think I hit a wall at some point with the song — and then I met SZA. I was like, “Oh, maybe she can finish my sentence.” I showed it to her, and she was like, “Yeah, I’m super down. This is awesome!” So, she wrote her verse, recorded it, and workshopped it for a little bit. It’s not the most intense story of all time, but it’s definitely like, “You had to be there.”
What was your favorite moment shooting the “NO SZNS” music video?
My favorite moment in that video had to be when the two parents were arguing. In the video, SZA’s played by a little girl named Bliss, and I’m played by a little boy named Brave — that’s their actual government names. They’re sitting and coloring and their parents are behind them arguing. Like many people’s childhoods, my childhood was a lot like that. [I went to] the two actors that we had hired and talked to them about their intentionality, how they’re arguing, and what they should argue about. It was really real. They’re arguing about the father needing to be there, and the mom’s, like, “I just need you here.” And the dad’s like, “I’m working, I’m here. I’m here right now, but I need to work to provide.”
I almost cried. I was like Oh, s—t. It got too real for me. Bliss and Brave’s mom and dad are our family friends, so they’re sitting by, and I’m just watching [the kids] be like, Damn, our parents are not like that. That made me really happy. That was one of my favorite moments of shooting it and as being a director on that.
SZA is far from your first high-profile collaborator. How important is it for you to truly understand and know your collaborators on a personal level?
I never collaborate with somebody I don’t know. I have a rule of thumb in music. There’s a lot of people that come from a lot of different traumas and environmental factors that cause them to be a certain kind of way. Sometimes, you get people that have been treated like s—t their entire life, and now they’re in a position of power, so they get their lick back on people who don’t necessarily need it. Sometimes, I’ll look at artists and be like, “Damn, I really don’t like you. I like the music, but I really don’t like you.”
So, spending time with SZA only verified that I was a fan of her as a human being. And the same thing goes for anybody that I work with. I have the capacity to live on my own terms, so I just don’t spend time in places I don’t want to be in. If I already like spending time with you, then making music will probably be automatic. It’s like breathing, you don’t even have to think about it.
But there’s a lot of times where it’s not bad where I’m just like, “You’re cool to me, I never have to see you again.” SZA was not one of those people.
Her career arc has been incredible to watch. Do you want something like that for your career? Or are there bits of it that you’d like to make fit your vision for yourself?
It’s funny because a lot of people that have worked around us say our arcs are similar. I don’t necessarily look at people’s success rate in terms of how popular they are, I look at how great they are because that will stand the test of time. Mad people get popular for a little bit of time, they’re here and then they’re gone. I’ve made it very, very clear to myself that having a job in music is the only thing I want to live for — so I’ve been doing it for 13 years, and now I’m getting considered to be a “new artist,” which is totally fine with me. That just means that my legs are very long.
I got asked yesterday, “How do you feel about possibly becoming very, very famous?” And I don’t feel anything about it — as much as it sounds like a cool answer. Me being dismissive isn’t something for aesthetic. As long as I can make music for the rest of my life, I’m not really worried about much. I think that [SZA’s] getting the praises she deserves — and she’s been deserving of for a long time — and I’m just happy to stand with somebody that believes in me so much. She’s definitely stuck her neck out very, very long for me. If I have the success of SZA, awesome. If I have the success of somebody you never know, awesome too. It’s one and the same for me.
On your Wikipedia page, they describe you as an “experimental pop” artist. What do you make of that phrase?
You know what? I don’t mind. Experimental pop. I feel like that may be the closest thing to what I do. Me and DQ – my big sister, publicist — we’ve talked about this for a long time. We talked about how people perceived me and she understands, and I understand, that I don’t like being perceived. I don’t like my music being perceived in any kind of way, but you can perceive me. I feel like “experimental pop” is fine. I like hooks, and that’s pop. I like songs that people want to sing.
The experimental part… I also don’t want to be bound by any one construct. Early on I decided I’m going to find all the rules and then pick ones not to follow. And that’s kind of how I ended up making music in the first place. That’s why people were like, “But it’s rock, but it’s not rock, but it’s this and it’s that.” One of my favorite artists, Prince –I’ll never compare myself to that man, but what Prince was able to do was make music that was Prince: It wasn’t necessarily rock or pop or R&B. It was Prince.
When people started trying to define me for the sake of utility, like, “Oh, where do we place this?” — place it everywhere. It’ll work.
On the spectrum of visibility, there’s a middle ground where people see one side of you, but not all of you. The concept of the multiplicity of the self… how does that inform the way you incorporate different languages in your music?
As a Black and Mexican person, I’ve learned my entire life how to code-switch, because some language is going to make some people uncomfortable. So, I’m like, “OK, I can’t go up to this white dude and be like, what’s up, my n—a,” it’s not going to work. The reason why I’ll go from Spanish to English to quote-unquote Ebonics to whatever, it’s because the voice is an instrument. It just depends on what I need. I’m not going to use an electric guitar for a part that needs an acoustic guitar, and I’ll rather use a, you know, a f—ing baritone guitar. When I use my different languages, it makes it easier for me to understand myself because I’m not just one thing.
I’m trying to spend my time being more similar to everything than dissimilar. I think a lot of times creatives get in this place where they’re like, “I’m so different,” and I’m tired of being different. Not in the way that I want to assimilate to any idea — I’m tired of being different because it’s not a choice. A lot of people spend their lives separating themselves, and I want to spend more of my life doing what I do in my music. Spanish and English go together because it’s one and the same. Some things I can say better in Spanish than I can in English and some things I can say better in English than I can in Spanish.
My dad was a thug, so a lot of my tongue comes from my father, and then my mother learned English through Black folk. Her English is also proper because Mexican people have the propensity to have to learn English a certain kind of way because they think that they have to. And here, especially when you’re first generation or second generation, you adhere to a status quo of language, or else you’re considered to be “country” or something. And my mom could give two f—ks, but she also was, like, “Y’all going to read these books before you go to bed. A lot of them.”
Y’all wasn’t no iPad kids!
Bro, I’m telling you! You seen iPad Dog?
What?!
There’s an iPad dog. It’s fire. I played the game, and he jumps on the screen, and he taps the screen and s—t.
This is not OK.
I try and spend less amount of time on technology as I possibly can and everybody said, “You need to do this. You need to do that.” I’m like, “You know what? I’m going to take a walk.” I feel like we’re just getting to that age, where we’re turning into old people – because remember how much we were outside?
It’s impossible to talk about contemporary tech without also speaking about algorithms. Has the rise of algorithms in the music industry impacted your ability to create freely, either explicitly or subliminally? How does it impact the way you promote releasing and promoting your music?
In the ‘90s, people hated MTV, because if you didn’t get on TV, you weren’t going to go up. Same thing goes with even before that. In the ‘70s, ’80s, if the disc jockey didn’t f—k with you, you wasn’t going nowhere. You’re gonna end up another vinyl that’s in the thrift store that people don’t listen to.
We’re in a time now where data collection is so important for people to optimize. It’s all about optimization. That optimization has become so clear that you don’t even have to pick your own music anymore. I think there’s a lost love there. It can lead to you not having the sense of discovery.
When I was coming up, I would have to go on YouTube wormholes to try and find new stuff. I’m like, “Oh, there’s this artist, and then there’s this artist. Holy s—t! What is this? This is crazy!” I think now it’s optimized to a point where so many of those steps are gone, which bottlenecks the industry. There’s, I don’t know, 100,000 songs uploaded to Spotify and Apple Music daily. There’s only going to be a few that get past the threshold of playlisting to where more people will listen to them.
Since we have so many people making music, we have lottery winners, which I’m never going to be mad at. We have people that win the TikTok lottery, or it’s like you had a single part of a song that people love, and it’s giving you a career hopefully. A lot of times, it’s probably a scary position, because you haven’t built an infrastructure to support that growth — so you’re going to topple over and people are not going to know who you are in the next following year. I don’t think there’s a good or bad way to do it. I don’t know if it’s necessarily going to decide s—t for us. It’ll just make it easier for us not to have to ever make a decision.
I’m pro-innovation, but I’m also pro-tradition. If you want to go look for music and find a diamond in the rough, do that. I was 17 when I first got found on SoundCloud. I think what’s conducive to me making music is Rick Rubin telling me, “Take your time,” and Jay-Z telling me in my face, “You’re great.” I’ll take that over the algorithm telling me that my s—t is popping.
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I think your attitude towards the power of algorithms plays out in how you structure your releases – you’re not one to tack standalone singles onto a project to play the streaming game, for example. So, walk me through two of your projects from this year: Xcape and Destruction for Dummies.
It’s supposed to be a trilogy, there’s two out now. I’m trying to think when the next one will come out. The last installment is supposed to be called Arcoíris — “Rainbow” in Spanish – but I’ve just been doing a bunch of other stuff.
On ‘Xcape, Pt. 1’ Jean Dawson as “Phoenix,” [Phoenix] is the more aggressive, I have something to say, loudmouth kid. On the next installment, ‘Destruction for Dummies, Pt. 2’ Jean Dawson as “Nightmare,” I had just got out of a relationship, and I was feeling it for real. It was the perfect excuse to find this Eeyore-type personality. Boohoo is the next person for Arcoíris, and he’s the pity party guy, where it’s like: Feel bad for me, and not in the way where I’m going to tell you why to feel bad for me.
I think my headspace when I was making those… I wanted side quests. I wanted to make a chapbook or an anthology series that wasn’t canon. In anime, there’s things that are non-canon events, and that’s kind of what these side quests have been. It’s not like a body of work where my idea from A-Z is complete. It allows you to work out your own ideas without being constrained to the sound of an album, but also not an EP.
So, in that case, what have you settled on as far as the next album is concerned?
I’m trying to think when it will come because I have two plans. Either I’m going to go away for three years and just disappear, or I’m going to put an album out next year, I don’t know. I believe we’ll have a lot of Spanish. I’m also trying to do music in Spanish that hasn’t been done before because some stuff in Spanish — like trap music — has been done. The stuff that’s supe- popular with regional music right now, it’s being done. It’s being done very well. I’m trying to find the space in my brain to figure out what James Blake sound like if he was Mexican. I’m not saying that I’m gonna do that, but I’m just saying that’s my line of thinking.
There’s going to be more Spanish involved, just cause my grandma was like, “Why don’t you make more music In Spanish?” And I was like, “F–k. She called me out.” Honestly, the only reason I hadn’t is because some of the things I have to say, I can’t say in Spanish. Which is kind of a lame reason, and now when she put me on the spot, I’m like, “Damn, I really don’t have that reason, because it’s my first language.” I need to actually do it because I want to do it now. Before, I felt like it was maybe forced or something, and I didn’t want to use it as kudos or a pony trick. It’s like, “No, dude, it’s my language.”
[People] hear me speak Spanish, or when they hear a song in Spanish, they’re like, “No, you don’t understand what that makes me feel.” So, for that full-length project, I’ve been working with some legendary a– people that I’m super excited about. I can’t name them yet, but just as a callback, they’ll know later. I think the next album is going to be beautiful, from what I know right now.
You have a couple of shows towards the end of the month. What can fans expect from those performances?
Yeah, I have a show with Interpol – the legendary band – and we play the Greek in L.A. I have some headline shows as well. I’m excited. The West Coast is my region. Then, I’m supporting Yachty in Europe, which is going to be awesome — I’m a massive Yachty fan. The West Coast gets a lot of me because I live there, so the West Coast and Denver are the two places I’ve performed the most for some reason. I mean, Denver … I love those mountain kids, they’re sick.
I’m approaching the music that I already made differently. The way that it’s structured, the way that it’s played, I have the band learning the songs again — but in a different format, just because I don’t want the perception to be like “Jean Dawson is rock and roll” or Jean Dawson is this or that. No, I want you to guess. And I don’t want it to be spoon-fed to you. I’m just going to make them a little more interesting and just like… What the f—k is going on? I learned that from watching Björk live a few times, where I’m like, “What the f—k is she doing? This is crazy!”
Then when we head over to Europe – it’s my first time — so we’re going to do all of it, starting in Oslo and ending in Vienna. Growing up Mexican, travel is not something that is normalized, because our parents can’t do it — a lot of [our] parents are undocumented. I’m going to make a lot of music out there too. I’m stoked. And I know my European audience and my U.K. audience is stoked because they were like, “Jean’s never gonna come here,” and now they’re going to travel with us! There’s caravans of people that are going to Stockholm, Cologne, Paris, they’re going to see it all.
How does it feel knowing that you’ve built all of this from the ground up?
Grateful above anything else. I got jaded to it a little bit at first, because I was never popular in school, and I was never deemed as cool. So, when it first starts to happen, I kind of have an [aversion] to it because it doesn’t feel real… until I toured the first time. I saw the Black, the brown, the white kids — it felt like I came home from war every time they saw me. They’re like, “Oh my God!” and I’m like, “Oh, s—t!” I got to see their faces and… if it’s not for [them], I really can’t do this.
Anything that they want from me, I’ll stop in the middle of my food and take photos. They find me at the airport now, and it’s f—ing crazy. Y’all just need to relax, but anything you want, you got it. I’ll sit and talk for two hours with some kid that’s telling me about how they want to start making music, and I’m just like, “Do it!” I don’t like giving advice because I don’t know s—t, but here’s what I could tell you I did wrong, and maybe you can circumvent those wrongs. I feel very blessed above anything else and privileged to be able to have my job just be expressing myself and people relate to it. It’s f—ing crazy.
You mentioned that you weren’t considered cool growing up, and now you’re kinda the epitome of cool for a lot of people. Who are your style icons? Who are your film icons?
I was never cool in high school, because the high school I went to wasn’t hip on Tumblr and I was a Tumblr kid, so the s–t that I knew, they had no idea. I was wearing like post-[A$AP] Rocky style — who is definitely an inspiration of mine, amongst a lot of different things, but style specifically.
Post-Rocky Tumblr was crazy as hell, and I was just showing up to school in San Diego, where nobody gave a f—k about what you’re wearing, in some crazy s—t that I got on eBay. That made me a weirdo. Even when I was getting fits off that — if I was in New York, they’re like, “Oh, s—t, he got that s—t on” — where I was from, it was like, “That’s weird. He reads anime. He always has a girlfriend. He don’t talk to nobody.” I smoked cigarettes in the parking lot like, I had no f—ing cool points.
I go to college and it’s still kind of the same thing. It’s like, frats and stuff like that, which is all fine. But I’m not gonna wear no Sperrys. The Internet gave a place for whatever I am to be deemed as cool. Rocky, he’s the best-dressed person, period, I think ever. I don’t have Rocky’s body, nor Rocky’s paycheck, so I’m not necessarily doing what Rocky does, but he definitely is the most well-dressed person taste level-wise. Also, Kurt Cobain — ‘90s grunge is something that lets me be super lazy and people think that it’s tight.
Then in the film world, music for me is a visual language. If you listen to my songs, most of them are metaphorical. Most of the time I’m talking about something that I can see, but I’ve never seen. I’ve been really, really inspired by movies my entire life. I spent a lot of time by myself, meaning that I spent a lot of time in front of the TV because when you don’t have nobody around, the TV’s gonna keep you company. I guess that was my version of my iPad.
Let’s talk about hype. How does the concept of hype register in your mind? Whether it’s industry hype or hype from fans, how do you keep yourself from getting lost in all the different voices trying to define you?
Hype is important when people are excited about you. When people are excited about you, you should feel excited. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with feeling connected to a moment that feels more potent than most. I also idolized people like Earl Sweatshirt, who, in my opinion – he’s someone who since has become a friend and collaborator — Earl was always able to circumvent the current of something. In one of his albums, he said, “trend-dodging,” and that stuck with me. It’s like, “Why do that when I can do the thing that I actually like?” But I also don’t think there’s anything wrong with trends. I feel like some people just need a sense of identity and they need a little help to get there.
I think the idea of hype or your audience being excited about things is cool. Industry hype — it’s hard to get. It’s easy to get disillusioned by industry hype because everybody at one point is going to have their moment where everybody looks at them, and I feel like if you don’t get caught there, you won’t get Medusa’d. And being Medusa’d, it’s like you’re gonna get turned into stone because you’re watching too hard how people are watching you. I think if you acknowledge it and move on, then you’ll never get stuck trying to chase that high. That’s how you end up the oldest n—-a trying to be cool with young kids. You want that same feeling you felt when you were 21 and brand new. It serves its purpose, but as long as you don’t get caught in it, you’ll be fine.
You’ve accomplished an incredible amount while being independent, where do you stand on the utility of record labels?
People have always asked me, “Why don’t you like labels?” It’s not that I don’t like labels, I just have never been signed because the business that I’ve been offered, I’ve never been aligned with. The things that they offer I don’t necessarily need, and the things that I need, they didn’t necessarily offer. So, I’m not pro-label and I’m not anti-label. I’m anti-bad business. I’ve structured my career in a way where the utility of a label wasn’t paramount. It’s totally fine if you want to go buy your house in cash, but I don’t think you should be mad at the bank for giving you a loan. I’m not saying labels are just banks, but one of the biggest things that they’re able to do is give you utility that you might not be able to get or have.
Since I didn’t need that — not because I came up rich, but because I figured out a business strategy early to circumvent the fact that I don’t need to take out the highest-interest loan — I can get it to a place to where I go to a label and we can see eye to eye on what utilities I need and what numbers they want to see back as a return on investment. I wanted to become an artist with a high ROI, and in order to do that, it’s going to take time.
I haven’t necessarily needed a label on my come-up because I’ve had such a strong foundational team from management. We’ve built a little army. We’re small, but we’re scrappy and we get s—t done, and I don’t think it’s because we’re particularly talented. I think it’s because we care a lot. Now, at this point in my career, I’m most likely going to sign this year to somewhere because I think the growing of our infrastructure is super important — just for the growth of our artist project. My entire team is Jean Dawson. It’s not just me. I’m the face and I’m the word, but we need to grow and in order to do that, there’s going to be some things that we need facilitated that are outside of our abilities.
In the beginning, I didn’t want to do that because I wanted to not only own my albums — I own all my albums — I didn’t want the constraints of “this needs to be successful or else somebody loses their job.” And that’s because I care about other human beings outside of myself. I think that doing it indie is noble and I think it serves its purpose, but at a certain point, you’re gonna hit a glass ceiling. And, also, starting off with the label, you’re gonna hit a glass ceiling. I think you need to get your career to a place where it’s stable enough to where you don’t need a label. Then go to a label. Or get your career to a place where, with or without a label, you’re going to be fine, because then you can add fuel to the fire by having stronger arms. You need to know how to allocate your money.
I got offers from my first album to my last album. Offers have always been on the table, but I’m like, “I’m not gonna waste your time and y’all money because I’m not gonna waste my time, and I’m not gonna waste my sanity trying to chase some money that I know I couldn’t get back.” I guess the best advice I can give to anybody that’s thinking about signing or not signing is to really know what you need. If you need money, go do shows, and if you’re not in a position where your shows pay you, then work more and get to a place where doing shows pays you. And then when you get to a place where you need money to expand, then you can go to a label and know why you need it. For anybody that wants to stay indie, do a lot of shows, sell merch, get really comfortable with direct-to-consumer, and having your audience be proud to pay for what you do.
7/6, Island of Tiree, Scotland — The Tiree Music Festival, a three-day folk music event scheduled for July 7-9, canceled entirely due to what organizers called “extreme weather conditions.”
7/9, Pittsburgh, Penn. — At an Ed Sheeran concert at Acrisure Stadium, the Pittsburgh Bureau of EMS personnel working the concert received 37 calls for service, with 17 transports to the hospital. A press release from the City of Pittsburgh reported that the transports were for “heat-related issues,” along with a few falls, one seizure and two cardiac arrests.
7/9, Amsterdam, Netherlands – The electronic music festival Awakenings canceled its third day, including sets by dozens of producers including TSHA, Amelie Lens and Tale of Us, due to severe weather.
7/15, Hartford, Conn. — Jason Aldean ended a concert at Xfinity Theatre early after experiencing heat stroke while onstage. Temperatures reached nearly 90 degrees that day.
7/19-25, Europe – Pearl Jam canceled shows in Vienna, Prague and Amsterdam after Eddie Vedder suffered throat damage during an outdoor show at Lollapalooza Paris due to heat, along with dust and smoke from wildfires throughout Europe.
7/22, Chicago, Ill. — Pitchfork Music Festival asked attendees to evacuate the festival site in the city’s Union Park, with the event resuming after a severe thunderstorm had passed.
7/25, Phoenix, Ariz. — Disturbed canceled its show at Talking Stick Resort Amphitheatre because the band’s equipment would not turn on in the heat, which reached 117 degrees that day.
This week, Kenya Grace’s global smash “Strangers” ascended to No. 1 on Hot Dance/Electronic Songs, marking the first time in the chart’s 10-year history that it’s been led by a track solely written, produced and sung by a woman.
Not bad for a song the 25-year-old artist wrote three months ago in her bedroom in Chandler’s Ford, England. A dreamy, sort of ominous ode to meeting people on dating apps who then ghost, “Strangers” marks a sort of belated pop breakthrough moment for drum’n’bass, the longstanding electronic genre that’s currently one of dance music’s backbone sounds, particularly in Grace’s native U.K.
“It’s really a huge part of young people’s lives here,” Grace tells Billboard over Zoom.
The song is also a milestone moment for Major Recordings, the flagship dance label from Warner Records that launched earlier this year. “I wrote ‘Strangers’ a week after I signed with them,” Grace says with a laugh.
“Strangers” is currently sitting at No. 71 on the Billboard Hot 100 (dated Oct. 21) and is also in the top position on the Dance/Electronic Streaming Songs and Dance/Electronic Digital Song Sales charts for a fifth and third week, respectively.
Below, Grace tells Billboard how she created her breakthrough hit.
How did “Strangers” come together?
I wrote it about two months ago in my room. I didn’t think too much into the full song, but I made a video of just the chorus. Nothing else existed at that point. I posted it on Instagram and TikTok and people seemed to really like it. I always find that I can write the chorus quickly, and then, like a week after, I get back into the head space and write the rest of the song. I finished writing, and then we worked on the production for a bit and got it mixed and mastered. We released it soon after that. It has been really fast.
How long did it take you to finish it?
It was pretty fast. I always find I can write the chorus really quickly. Then, like a week after, I get back into the headspace and write the rest of the song. Probably a week later, I finished writing [“Strangers”], and then we worked on the production for a bit and then got it mixed and mastered.
And it’s all happening in your bedroom. Paint a picture of that space.
It’s just a tiny room; I live in the countryside, in a tiny town an hour outside of London. My room is a really average room. The amazing thing about my house, though, is my window overlooks the woods. So I think that’s helpful with the deep thoughts or whatever.
The track has been hugely successful on TikTok. What’s your relationship with social media?
My favorite thing to do is make beat videos. I love writing a mini song and then making all the drum loops and everything, so TikTok and Instagram are like my perfect places. It has been a crazy year because last year, I seriously considered giving up music. Then, I posted a video on TikTok, and it changed my whole life. My socials are really different now — I think that’s the biggest thing, just the amount of people, the amount of love. It has blown my mind.
How do you feel about bringing drum’n’bass further into the mainstream?
It wasn’t a goal, [but] I really love dance music in general. Drum’n’bass is the first thing I went out to; it’s what all my friends go out to. It’s really a huge part of young people’s lives in the U.K. Liquid drum’n’bass I especially love — it’s basically a more emotional version of drum’n’bass. Like dance music, but a very soft version. I love that so much. I feel like it goes well with my voice.
Are the lyrics based on actual events?
It’s a mixture of stuff that’s happened to me, stuff that’s happened to my friends and things I’ve noticed around me. It’s so common, in this day and age, that you’ll see someone for a bit, and you’ll speak all the time and then randomly one day, you just never speak again. It happens so much with Tinder and Hinge and things like that. It’s so easy to just give up and swipe on to the next person. It’s basically about that. It’s happened to me. It’s happened to all my friends.
What do your friends and family think about everything that’s going on for you?
My family is still in shock, to be honest. It’s just crazy. None of us have ever experienced anything like this, on this level. One of my friends said there was an article in the U.K. [Official Charts] — it was like, me versus Doja Cat. My friends were like, “Kenya Grace challenging Doja Cat? This sentence should not exist!” I was just like, “Yeah, I don’t know how it exists.” It’s so crazy.
A version of this story originally appeared in the Oct. 7, 2023, issue of Billboard.
Armed with just a microphone, a lion-like mane of warm brown curls, and her otherworldly voice, Whitney Houston sauntered onto the Radio City Music Hall stage at the 1990 15th anniversary celebration of Arista Records – ready to bless the packed audience with five minutes of unabashed pop music bliss. She delivered an unforgettable rendition of her ever-enduring pop smash “I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Love Me),” the song that became her fourth single to top the Billboard Hot 100.
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Of the three songs Whitney performed at the concert, “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” was her only selection that wasn’t a cover. This was the song chosen to best represent the contributions of Whitney Houston, the vocalist, artist and brand, to Arista’s legacy. In fact, the performance – which focused on the magnetism of Whitney’s stage presence, proving the single was still a stunner even unplugged – was a victory lap for the song’s success, which had been raging for over two years at that point.
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Considering the song stood as the peak of Houston’s oft-derided crossover pop hits — the mid-late ‘80s were a period of Houston’s career where she was accused of “selling out” to the sounds of white pop music — choosing to perform “Somebody” was intentional. Instead of teasing the new jack swing-informed sound of her forthcoming I’m Your Baby Tonight (1990), a performance of “Somebody” cemented the song as bigger and more powerful than any discourse around it. “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” was and remains undeniable.
The performance was “a unique demonstration of why [Whitney] was the greatest contemporary singer we have ever experienced in music,” says music industry icon and Houston’s former Arista label head Clive Davis. “It was the most affecting of any of them, the most exhilarating and awesome performance of that song. She took Radio City by storm, the audience screamed for her, she was just raising the level higher than they could have ever imagined.”
Whitney Houston recorded several contenders for the greatest pop song of all time throughout her storied career. While each of them has its own merits – including the ones that did not reach the top of the Hot 100 – the rest still pale in comparison to “I Wanna Dance With Somebody,” with its singalong chorus, ebullient synths, and towering vocal performance.
The track served as the lead single from her blockbuster sophomore album — Whitney, which spawned four consecutive Hot 100 No. 1 singles (starting with “Somebody”) and helped Houston become the first female artist to debut atop the Billboard 200. Topping charts in virtually every country that had them, the song was the beginning of a new phase of Houston’s career. The Newark, N.J. native was coming off her massively successful Whitney Houston debut album, and it was time to prove that not only was she here to stay, but that she could also compete with the big dogs — and win.
“I wanted to be like, ‘OK, Michael Jackson; OK, Prince; OK, Aretha; OK, whoever’s hot — get back!” says “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” producer Narada Michael Walden. “[Whitney’s] gonna take over everything!”
“I Wanna Dance With Somebody” went on to win Houston a Grammy for best female pop vocal performance, sell millions of copies worldwide and (decades later) become her best-performing song on streaming services. Over 35 years after its original release, Billboard talks to the key players behind “Somebody” about how our pick for the Greatest Pop Song of All Time came to be.
Boys Meets Girl and the ‘Dance of Life’
The story of “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” technically begins with the story of another Whitney Houston Hot 100 chart-topper: a love-paranoid slice of jaunty ‘80s pop by the name of “How Will I Know.” Written by Shannon Rubicam and George Merrill – the artists behind pop-rock duo Boy Meets Girl — along with producer Narada Michael Walden, “How Will I Know” served as the third single from Houston’s debut album, and its success earned the songwriting partners new insight into writing more hits for the country’s hottest new star.
“We tried our best not to freak ourselves out because we had to follow [“How Will I Know”] up, and that’s a little challenging because of all your self-doubts,” Rubicam says. “We knew that she could deliver something large.”
First, Shannon and Rubicam had a false start with a song that Davis and Arista rejected – and that the duo ended up keeping for themselves. Shortly after hitting the top of the Hot 100 with “How Will I Know,” Merrill and Rubicam pitched “Waiting for a Star to Fall,” which Davis passed on, as did other label A&Rs. Belinda Carlisle even recorded a demo for it, but after the song stalled in publishing purgatory, the duo decided to record the song themselves as Boy Meets Girl in 1988 – and it ultimately became the outfit’s biggest hit, peaking at No. 5 on the Hot 100. “I can see why Clive thought it wouldn’t be good for Whitney,” Rubicam muses. “It’s more personal of a song, perhaps a little less universal, and I think it didn’t quite have her kind of melodies and verve.”
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Undeterred by the bumpy road for “Star to Fall,” the duo continued to write, eventually stumbling into their next Houston-sung smash. As the title suggests, “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” spawned from a moment of solitude. “We lived in Venice, CA, and we started making a habit of going out for a walk around dusk… because there’s something about that dusky hour that makes a person restless and uneasy, or a little isolated and estranged from the world in some ways,” Rubicam explains. “There’s this social pressure, like ‘I should be doing something right now.’”
That feeling of restlessness and isolation led to Rubicam seeing “a visual in my head about going to the club and finding company. Then it morphed into finding someone to love who would love you back and do that dance of life with you.” That general idea carried Rubicam through the first verse, but she found a bit more difficulty with the second verse: “You’ve already got a structure established in the first verse rhythmically and melodically, so you’re sort of doing a crossword puzzle to make the new lyrics fit,” she elaborates.
Rubicam’s method proved successful – and with finishing touches by way of a PPG Wave synth intro (which was “brand new” to the duo, according to Merrill) the demo for “I Wanna Dance Somebody” was ready to be pitched. “I think when we were writing the chorus, we had a really good feeling. We felt confident and certainly enough so to present it to Clive [Davis],” Merrill recounts.
What followed was Merrill having to sprint through LAX to hand-deliver a cassette tape of his and Rubicam’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” demo to Davis before his flight took off.
“We’ve made so many trips to LAX from our house in Venice, so we knew exactly how long it would take,” remembers Rubicam. “So, I headed to an airline that doesn’t exist anymore, it was Transworld Airlines.” Merrill adds, “It’s actually one of my favorite stories of all time, having that moment of running through the airport!”
Clive Davis recalls the encounter similarly: “Sure enough, George met me at TWA, handed me a cassette of the demo with the lyrics to ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody,’ and I heard it on the airplane on my way back to New York.” Once Davis sat with the demo, he heard hit potential in the song’s chorus but felt there was “a lot that could be brought to the fore,” with the addition of a new vocal and track arrangement.
For that, Davis handpicked “How Will I Know” writer-producer Narada Michael Walden to helm the new single. “Once Clive said yes to it, and we heard that Whitney was singing it, Narada was producing it, there’s not very much that could have gone wrong with that combination,” says Rubicam.
Funk-ifying “Dance”
The brilliance of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” results from a combination of well-plotted studio precision and the divine ways in which Houston innately understood how to color a record with her inimitable voice. While Rubicam’s lyrics remained relatively unchanged from her and Merrill’s demo, Houston and Narada’s synergy culminated in an immediate pop masterpiece.
Initially drawn to the “happy and infectious” chorus, Walden could “hear what Clive was liking about [the demo],” but he still felt that he needed to “funk it up” to make it the right fit for Houston. “Because I’m a Black cat, I know Whitney’s African-American, and we want our people to be down,” Walden says. “The demo was just too poppy and not grounded in the funk which it needed to be the smash for Whitney. Immediately, I’m listening to it and going, “Whatcha gon’ do, Narada, to Blacken this thing up and funk it up, so that the people in the ghetto and the nightclubs are jamming too?”
To ground his transformation of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody,” Walden looked to lessons learned from his mentor Quincy Jones. “My philosophy is the outhouse bottom with the penthouse view,” says Walden. “If it’s got nastiness on the bottom, which is really funky, but it’s very pretty on top, that combination is kind of irresistible.”
So, Walden recruited Randy Jackson — of later American Idol fame — on synth bass, “lined up all different kinds of keyboards,” and employed a very particular approach to recording Whitney’s vocals. Just as Merrill and Rubicam had a new understanding of Houston’s abilities after working on “How Will I Know,” Walden understood that a post-debut Houston would have limited in-studio time because of her grueling promotional schedule. To work around those limitations, Walden and his crew would record the entire song sans Houston’s vocals, so she could easily envision what the end product would sound like.
Following Houston’s debut album — which mostly relied on ballads for its singles, “How Will I Know” aside — Walden knew that “Somebody” had to prove that she could dominate with uptempo pop, and also fit alongside the most forward-thinking pop auteurs of the time.
“Music had made a shift with synthesizers and drum machines,” reflects Walden. “The LinnDrum machines were all the new rage with the hippest cats like Prince, who was smacking us with Purple Rain and sounds we’ve never heard before. Then you have Quincy, who would hire the most death-defying brains to make Michael Jackson’s new sounds. The competition was really high to mastermind a new sound for Whitney.”
With the help of an illustrious crew that included Walter Afanasieff, Corrado Rustici, Preston Glass, Marc Russo and Greg Gonaway, Walden remodeled the original demo in the image of a funky horn-laden anthem of human connection, which could get play in every corner of the world. Nonetheless, two of the most recognizable elements of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” were far from predetermined. The track bursts open with explosive horns that are quite unlike typical analog brass, or even routine synth horns. Walden says the unique horn sounds were the result of an engineer “playing around” with a synth overdub that he had requested. “It was synth horns, but with a glizz on it that made it like something we’ve never done before,” he says. “We glizz the bass, we never glizz the horns!”
Of course, it is Houston’s voice that makes “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” such a transcendent song. During the recording process, Walden was very particular about how Houston’s vocals were cut so that only the best possible takes were used to make the final version of the song. He would have her record the end of the song first, to ensure that the most vocally demanding portions of the track had Houston working at full capacity.
“I would focus her on [the ending] to keep the energy high,” he explains. “Once we got the ending done, now let’s go back and look at that first verse. Now we can get a bit more methodical and technical… I’ve learned this with soul singers: If you get too technical too early, you suck the spirit out of them.” Houston took a few notes from Rubicam’s demo and expanded them into a freewheeling showcase of vocal fortitude. “[Whitney was] a true recording artist, because she just found her way into making a song her own when she liked it,” says Rubicam.
In letting Houston get her fire out at her own pace, Walden helped foster an environment where she led with her spirit, which eventually resulted in her stumbling into the now-iconic “Say you wanna dance, don’t you wanna dance” vamp following the final chorus – the ultimate nod to her amalgamation of gospel, funk, soul and pop. That energy mainly came from a studio session the previous day, during which Houston had the pleasure of stacking her own harmonies for the very first time, boosting her with a new level of fire to finish recording her “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” vocals.
“You’re hearing an excited Whitney on [that song],” Walden gushes.
“When We Saw the Video… That’s When We Knew”
As undeniable as the song is on its own, the success of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” is also highly indebted to its music video, which was helmed by “How Will I Know” music video director Brian Grant. In fact, Walden, Rubicam and Merrill all heard the final cut of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” while watching the song’s Totally ‘80s music video for the first time. “When we saw the video and how dazzling she was, just captivating the camera, that’s when we knew ‘She’s going No. 1 with this’ — it was just so powerful,” remembers Walden.
To bring “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” from record to video, Grant was tasked with the challenge of outdoing his clip for “How Will I Know” — Houston’s closest-sounding hit to “Somebody” and an MTV Video Music Award winner for best female video. He first had to tackle the hilariously ironic fact that his star could not, in fact, dance. Instead, he opted for “lots of little scenarios as if you’re turning a page in a magazine.” Even though the individual scenarios – which included Houston bopping along in a cloud of confetti and jamming out in front of a graffitied wall while decked out in a black leather biker jacket — had “nothing to do with the song,” Grant says, he “just wanted to shoot Whitney from lots of different ways, and give her lots of different looks and surround her with dancers who could do most of the dancing.”
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Grant pulled from a few classic MGM musicals to inform the video, but his main goal was properly capturing the effervescence of both the track and Whitney’s vocal. He knew the song itself was dynamic enough because of how the dancers reacted to the music. “There’s something about the way they dance when they know they’ve got something really good,” he explains. “There’s an enthusiasm that you see in the dancers. We just knew it was gonna be a hit. I didn’t know how big a hit, but it was gonna be one.”
Davis specifically tapped Grant to direct the “Somebody” music video, and the Arista boss remained involved in the creative process down to the final cut of the music video. According to Grant, Davis wasn’t too enamored with the initial cut of the music video, urging for a more dream-like version of the clip. To satisfy him, Grant shot a brief clip of Whitney finishing up a performance and then daydreaming of the proper pop video that comprised the original cut. Although he says he “could be wrong” about his hunch, Grant suggests that changes to the music video were spurred by flak Davis was receiving for making Houston’s image “too white.” Of course, “I Wanna Dance Somebody” topped the charts just one year before Houston was infamously booed at the 1988 Soul Train Music Awards.
Davis, for his part, continues to point to the inimitable power of Whitney’s live performance as proof that her music and voice transcended such debates. “She was simply unique,” he says.
“I Wanna Dance With Somebody” Forever
Upon release, “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” catapulted Houston to an even higher level of pop stardom. The song became her highest Hot 100 debut in the 1980s (No. 38), reached the top of the chart in six weeks and spent nine cumulative weeks in the top 10 (more than any other single that year), while also topping the Hot 100 Airplay, Adult Contemporary and Dance/Club Play charts, and even hitting No. 2 on R&B/Hip-Hop Songs. Worldwide, the song went No. 1 in 14 different countries and has proven to be one of Houston’s most enduring hits, re-entering charts around the world following her untimely 2012 passing, including the Hot 100 at No. 35. Grant recalls hearing the song nearly every hour in Britain once news broke of Houston’s passing.
The song remained a fixture on virtually every setlist Houston performed until her death, a testament to both how much she enjoyed singing the track, and the endless ways in which she and bandleader (and close friend) Rickey Minor were able to transform the song for different live settings. For many of Houston’s performances of the song in the early ‘90s, Minor crafted a “more orchestral and lush overture,” in which “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” is teased for a few minutes before “the curtain drops and [the band] starts playing” a version of the song closer to the studio recording. “She had a particular love for this song because it really catapulted her to stardom,” reflects Minor. “It just opened up a whole new era of music.”
36 years after such a tornado of a song and video were unleashed upon the world, “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” remains one of the most seminal pop songs in history; the song’s title even became the subheading of the 2022 musical biopic based on Houston’s life and career. This year (Jul. 10), “Somebody” became Houston’s first and only song to amass over one billion streams on Spotify, just the second ’80s song by a solo female artist to do so (following Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill”). According to Luminate, “Somebody” still rakes in over two million official on-demand U.S. streams per week. Being named the greatest pop song of the Hot 100 era by Billboard also serves as new validation for its creators about the everlasting legacy the song has built — Walden answers a question about when he knew the song had been cemented in pop culture by replying: “Having this interview and answering this question.”
As for Merrill and Rubicam, they believe that the song has remained so magnetic because “everybody wants that feeling of connection,” citing events as disparate as New York City Pride parades and mid-lockdown Italian nights amid the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic as moments where they’ve seen the song give people the solace they’re searching for. The songwriting partners declined to specify how much they generate from “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” annually, but they do say that the song has helped sustain two separate households for two decades and counting.
From its inception to its enduring reign as one of the most beloved and recognizable pop songs of all time, “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” remains synonymous with a uniquely human craving for connection and love. “I think it’s really just the feeling that keeps carrying it through another decade, which is amazing,” Rubicam says. “That’s what it’s about, and it’s more than we ever imagined.”
Earlier this year — on a warm day in May, Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month — a septet of young women fought nerves backstage at Forest Hills Stadium in Queens. Just over a year after its official debut, the group XG was in town for Head in the Clouds, a music festival celebrating Asian and Pacific Islander culture, creativity and art organized by record label 88rising. But the gig held broader significance: It was the act’s first international performance outside of Japan, and in New York, no less.
Despite its early-afternoon billing, the stadium was packed — and chanting, “XG! XG! XG!” — when the group took the stage in glitter-emblazoned suits. The warm welcome made it difficult to believe that this was XG’s first time in New York, and after kicking off the set with its debut track, “Tippy Toes,” the crowd’s chants reached a fever pitch as the members segued into their viral hit, “Left Right.” Fans and casual festivalgoers alike danced freely to the beat, some even singing along to the song’s catchy chorus.
Reflecting today on that Head in the Clouds performance and XG’s subsequent appearance at the festival’s Los Angeles iteration, the group — whose members range in age from 17 to 21 — exudes gratitude. “New York was our first international performance, and the ‘XG! XG!’ chants were really touching,” XG’s Cocona says. In Los Angeles, she says, she even saw some fans wearing makeup inspired by the music video for “GRL GVNG,” XG’s prerelease single from its debut mini-album, NEW DNA. “And it was just really, really cool to see all of that!”
XG will headline Billboard the Stage at South by Southwest Sydney at the Hordern Pavilion on Oct. 20. Click here for more information.
Just six months prior, in November 2022, a set of cypher clips — or, in XG’s parlance, a “Galz Xypher” — had gone viral on social media. Taking turns, XG’s Cocona, Maya, Harvey and Jurin delivered crisp solo bars — effortlessly weaving among English, Japanese and Korean — over the instrumentals for J.I.D’s “Surround Sound”; Dreamville’s “Down Bad”; Ty Dolla $ign, Jack Harlow and 24kGoldn’s “I WON”; and Rosalía’s “SAOKO,” respectively. These pieces of content marked a turning point for XG, as new listeners outside of its core K-pop-adjacent fan base began to tune in. At press time, the cypher clips had amassed over 26 million YouTube views and over 16 million TikTok views.
Those four rappers, along with vocalists Juria, Chisa and Hinata, make up XG (short for Xtraordinary Girls). Though trained in K-pop’s sensibilities and practices, XG’s members are all Japanese, and their music, amalgamating R&B, hip-hop and dance, is sung entirely in English. The group is the first act on the label XGALX (its name plays on the XX chromosome pairing denoting female), a project of Tokyo-based entertainment conglomerate Avex, which has previously produced K-pop acts like BoA, TVXQ and BIGBANG. As Avex’s CEO, Katsumi Kuroiwa, told Billboard Japan in September, it launched XGALX in 2017 “with the aim of creating global hits” — and it hoped XG would be the “breakthrough artist” leading a long-term effort toward helping Japanese acts “thrive in the mainstream music world.” The septet was selected in 2017 out of 13,000 candidates, and it trained for five years before making its March 2022 debut.
On their first track, “Tippy Toes,” the girls declared, “Understand that we didn’t come to play.” In less than two years, XG has lived up to that claim, amassing over 637 million views on its YouTube channel; launching an official fan club, ALPHAZ; performing at the Singapore Formula 1 Grand Prix following the aforementioned festivals; and releasing NEW DNA in September.
Chisa
Ssam Kim
Cocona
Ssam Kim
At first glance, XG has the hallmarks of a K-pop group: It was trained under the tenets of that genre’s system while also learning the language, its music videos are highly stylized and made with K-pop production teams, it has performed on Korean music programs like Mnet’s M Countdown, and its creative team includes artist-producers like Chancellor (who has featured on tracks by veteran Korean artists Epik High, BoA and Younha and has written for K-pop artist Kang Daniel). Yet XG classifies its music in an entirely new category that it says transcends current paradigms: X-pop.
“The letter ‘X’ is often used to show something special or unknown,” Jurin explains. And it’s true that XG challenges standards both lyrically and visually. For instance, on NEW DNA’s lead single, “Puppet Show,” the group takes on outdated gender norms, singing, “Imagine a world where we could play different roles, where girls be taking control.” The song’s video matches its message: In an icy, dystopian landscape, faceless, uniformed figures surround XG until the members take literal leaps of faith to dance and sing the chorus on a stage in the center of this alternate universe. Even the album title, NEW DNA, refers to how the members view themselves as a “new species free from all conventions and limitations,” as the group says on its website.
XG’s executive producer, Park “Simon” Junho (also known by his producer moniker, JAKOPS), has been with XG since its earliest stages — down to its selection process and training, as detailed in the group’s ongoing docuseries, Xtra Xtra, uploaded to its YouTube channel. As the Seattle-born son of a Japanese mother and Korean father, Simon grew up absorbing both of those cultures, and he later moved to Korea to train and debut as a K-pop artist. (He was a member of the group DMTN, which was active from 2009 to 2013.)
For XG’s training — which, he says, “was conducted in an unprecedented manner” — Simon fused his own background and artistic style with “the foundation of the Korean [music] that is proven through global success.” Together with XG’s producers, he worked to ensure no two songs on the six-track NEW DNA have the same genre classification. X-pop is the result.
“XG’s ambition is to show music and performances that are not limited to the musical characteristics of a certain country, but can be enjoyed by people from all over the world,” Simon says. (The group has 625 million on-demand official global streams, according to Luminate.) “Current K-pop celebrities are also making ceaseless efforts to transcend the initial ‘K,’ and as a result, they are gradually breaking down boundaries. This is why I call [XG’s music] ‘X-pop,’ in the sense that XG also wants to break down boundaries together and deliver a message that everyone can relate to through music.”
Harvey
Ssam Kim
Hinata
Ssam Kim
To build as global an audience as possible, XG’s team approached making music in ways that diverge from K-pop acts’ traditional methods. Many groups based in Asia start out performing music in their native language with the goal of first building a local fan base, only releasing English-language music later as part of an effort to expand globally. But XG has only released music in English, despite it not being the members’ first language. Even as they converse among themselves in our Zoom interview, they naturally speak to one another in Japanese. And as of September, Avex’s Kuroiwa said that roughly 30% of XG’s listeners were Japanese, with 20% in the United States and 50% in other countries — what he called “an ideal distribution.”
It’s a manifestation of an ongoing K-pop debate: Is the genre defined by its language or by its sensibilities and cultural resonance? What constitutes K-pop — singing in Korean or embodying the elements pioneered by the Korean music business while respecting the genre’s cultural origins? Does language choice matter, or is it simply a tool to expand and reach more fans as a greater cultural movement evolves?
Simon says that XG’s team is intentionally fusing multiple influences — while still honoring their origins. He says that XG and its producers “want to add new color and continue to play the role of unfolding a new world” while still “respecting the legacy of various senior musicians.” In an effort to write lyrics that use expressions “actually used in America,” he notes that the group collaborated with American lyricists and composers, even as it also paired with Korean photographer-director Cho Gi-Seok and Rigend Film to “create innovative visuals” — all part of its intent to “present a novel group that had never been seen before in K-pop, with new sounds, new member compositions and even new visuals.”
From left: Harvey, Juria, Hinata, Jurin, Chisa, Cocona, Maya of XG.
Ssam Kim
Such cross-continental musical collaborations are becoming increasingly common as music globalizes, making previously unthinkable partnerships possible. With X-pop, XG’s team has coined a phrase that reflects this rapidly rising transference of cultures among markets. Yet XG’s collaborations feel unique: not simply partnering for collaboration’s sake, but genuine and organic, drawing on the multicultural experiences of the executive helping to shape the act’s direction.
Simon points out that creating new things in any preexisting environment has its challenges. The notion of “newness” is, to him, not only about working with “talented people with diverse backgrounds, but also with new artists with unique and fresh ideas. ‘Newness’ often raises concerns simply because it is unfamiliar: ‘Will it fit us well? Will our fans like it?’ ” Yet he and XG’s team remain committed to exploring new directions as the group forges ahead. References to evolution are ever present in its visuals, whether in imagery resembling splitting cells or nods to the “X-GENE,” the title of one mini-album track.
When asked about what inspires this kind of creative output, XG shows deep curiosity about the spaces it physically occupies. “Inspiration can come from anything, however small,” Cocona says. “We really try to feel the present. There’s a lot that you can receive if you just have the right antenna pointing in the right direction.
“XG has this motto or slogan, ‘Enjoy the moment,’ and we try to cherish every single moment that we’re alive because there’s a lot of deeper meaning in everything that surrounds you,” she continues. “So I have this photograph folder and anything that gives me inspiration, I’ll save for later. I’ll open up my memo pad and write down words that come to me.” Recently, she recalls being particularly inspired by the Studio Ghibli animated film How Do You Live? (soon to be released in the United States as The Boy and the Heron).
“I watched it once with my family and then again about three days later with the girls and Simon-san. Each time I watched it, different scenes and lines really resonated with me.”
Juria
Ssam Kim
Jurin
Ssam Kim
But ultimately, the members of XG are most inspired by one another and their shared dream. During our conversation, they encourage one another to take the mic, and that’s mirrored in how they approach their work. In fact, before they take the stage or ahead of important events, they shout the word hesonoo, which means “umbilical cord” in Japanese. According to Simon, they see themselves as seven members who share “united hearts and faith, as if they were connected by an umbilical cord.”
“What makes us extraordinary,” Jurin says, “is that I feel we are able to break free from all these norms and borders that tend to bind us. By that same token, there is a bond between us that transcends a lot of types of challenges, and it’s really amazing to have that.”
Cocona agrees. “Everyone is so genuine, it feels like we’re just being our true ‘animal’ selves,” she says. “We live life as it comes and follow our hearts. The moments where we have relaxed conversations with everyone and Simon are when I’m happiest. We always say, ‘Let’s definitely go to [outer] space someday!’ ” (Her groupmates nod agreeably to that ambition.) Harvey adds, “Everyone is just bursting with passion, and our love for each other is so strong! We make sure we communicate well and respect and understand each other, so this forms a really tight bond.”
As Hinata notes, they are motivated by their potential to “give people the courage to move forward,” crediting their ALPHAZ fan base as their main source of energy. “If I had to create a metaphor with this entire ecosystem as a body, [the ALPHAZ would] really be the heart, almost pumping oxygen throughout our whole body,” Jurin says. “The relationship between ALPHAZ and XG is really like family, like we’re coexisting, and whenever we decide that we want to take on some kind of new challenge, [they will be] the first ones to support us and back us up. They really understand us on a different level.”
Maya
Ssam Kim
From left: Harvey, Hinata, Juria, Jurin, Chisa, Cocona and Maya of XG photographed August 9, 2023 in Los Angeles.
Ssam Kim
A few days after NEW DNA arrives, the members reconnect to share early thoughts and reactions to its release. Two physical versions — an “X” version and a “G” version — came out with the same six tracks, a 78-page photo book, stickers and photo cards. “Our ALPHAZ got their hands on [the album] before we did. They said it wasn’t a ‘mini-album’ but a ‘mega-album,’ ” Chisa says with a laugh. “And when I actually held the album, I felt its weight and thought, ‘Yeah it’s not mini, it’s mega.’ ” Both Chisa and Juria say they’ve noticed fans engaging creatively with the photo cards, personalizing and decorating them with stickers, sharing them with one another online.
Though NEW DNA only has six tracks, XG captures a different theme in each of their music videos. In “GRL GVNG” (pronounced “girl gang”), the act performs in dark, moto-inspired clothing in a futuristic setting, whereas in “New Dance,” it wears bright, colorful clothing and dances against everyday scenery like a bowling alley, city alleyways and the beach. “It was so exciting to show a powerful version of ourselves, like in ‘GRL GVNG,’ and then switch to a new persona as in ‘New Dance,’ ” Juria says.
And with the album out and performances in New York, Los Angeles and Singapore under its belt, XG is preparing for yet another momentous event: an upcoming headlining performance at South by Southwest in Sydney. There, Jurin promises, fans can expect to find an even further evolved, “brand-new XG.”
“I don’t want to spoil anything,” Maya adds, “but my members and I are all thinking of something new and exciting for all of you. All I can say is that we want you all to look forward to what we’re preparing and hope you all are ready to have fun with us.”
Billboard’s parent company PMC is the largest shareholder of SXSW and its brands are official media partners of SXSW.
This story will appear in the Oct. 21, 2023, issue of Billboard.
HipHopWired Featured Video
Source: Various / Various
For most music lovers, the cover art is the visual gateway to their sonic sojourn. Before the first beat drops or word is uttered, that first impression is often the packaging for the album or cassette. Album art in itself often tells a story and sets the tone for the auditory journey. While the cover art’s impact has been diminished a tad in the digital times, in the analog era of tapes and vinyl, music fans would spend as much time dissecting the cover as they did the music. And in Hip-Hop in particular, crate diggers have elevated cover art to near mythic status.
So, in celebration of HipHop’s 50th Anniversary, HipHopDX and HipHopWired have collaborated to present the 50 Greatest Hip Hop Album Covers Of All Time, spanning all five decades. There are some surefire fan favorites on the list, as well as some more recent installments they may stir some convo, but it’s all for the love of genre we hold dear and to recognize the efforts of art directors, photographers, artists and the musicians who inspire them.
J. Cole, KOD
Cover art: Kamau Haroon
Whether you go with “Kids On Drugs,” “King Overdosed” or “Kill our Demons” as the meaning behind J.Cole’s KOD title, there is no debate that artist Kamau Haroon nailed all three interpretations with his vibrant yet haunting portrait.
Known artistically as Sixmau, the artist was in the studio with J. Cole watching the NBA All-Star game when he created the cover. Evidently, the on-screen spectacle did little to distract him as the theme captured Cole’s vision: a monarch in the midst of a narcotic-induced daze shepherding equally dazed youth under his royalty capes.
“It was definitely a collaboration,” Kamau said of the creation. “It was a marriage of art and music. He told me what direction he was going in and then he gave me freedom to portray it how I wanted.”—Jerry Barrow
Tyler, The Creator, Flower Boy
Designer/Photographer: Eric Wright
Tyler, The Creator is always hands on so his Flower Boy album cover was no different. After peeping artist’s work in one of his books, the rapper commissioned Eric Wright to create the cover brought him his own sketches with ideas of what he wanted. “I was really impressed with his drawings and especially with his use of color. I think he has a much better innate capacity for working with color than I do,” White, who happened to be an Odd Future fan, told Complex in 2017. The final work is a jarring mix of color and weirdness, so it’s perfectly aligned with the Tyler, The Creator ethos. —Alvin aqua Blanco
Kendrick Lamar, To Pimp A Butterfly
Photo: Denis Rouvre
Art Direction: Kendrick Lamar, Dave Free, Vlad Sepetov
Kendrick Lamar’s cover art for his third studio album encapsulates the inherent rebelliousness of simply surviving in America. Even with the achievement of having an actual Black man in the White House, K.dot and his people posted up at the gate relegating the President’s residence to a backdrop, taking the directive to “paint the white house black” a defiant remix.
“It’s me and my homeboys in front of the White House,” Kendrick explains. “It’s really taking people from around my neighborhood and taking them around the world to see things I’ve experienced. [the baby he’s holding] is one of the homey’s kids, people I grew up with since elementary school all the way up to now. A lot of the individuals I talk about on Good Kid, Mad City is on this cover. It all spins around full circle.”
As for the judge laying on the ground with his eyes crossed out: “The one person that represents their lives negatively is a judge. Only God can judge these individuals.”—Jerry Barrow
Lil’ Kim, Hardcore
Designer/Photographer: Michael Lavine
The cover for Lil’ Kim’s debut Hardcore album went viral before doing so was ever a thing. “When I did the Hard Core photo shoot, I was just posing to do them. It wasn’t like I’m just going to pose and squat and show my kitty cat; that was not on my mind at all. For me, it was just being a model and posing in a cute, sexy way,” the Queen Bee told XXL in 2016. The album is considered a proper classic and its art kept it a keepsake for fans; male, female or wherever on the spectrum you may land. That promo photos may have gotten more run than the actual music, though.—Alvin aqua Blanco
Outkast, Stankonia
Art direction and design by Mike Rush.
Photograph by Michael Lavine.
After adorning their previous offerings, Atliens and Aquemini with illustrious illustrations, the two dope boys took a more direct approach for their fourth album, posing in a white tee and black leather pants against an ebony and ivory symbiote of the American Flag.
“The flag cover, that came to me when I was on an airplane,” Andre 3000 tells veteran journalist Craig Seymour in an 2000 interview. “I was thinking of a fly way to use the flag…make it a black and white flag. No color. More than anything. Like America is a no color state and we bring splashes of color.” Andre composed a drawing as an alternate cover to be a collectors item, but considers this image the “official” Stankonia cover.
Art Director Mike Rush was hired by L.A. Reid to head the urban music art squad and calls the monochromatic flag with its stars titled drunkenly in an almost demonic salute as “one of the most iconic album images in hip hop history.”—Jerry Barrow
Notorious B.I.G., Ready To Die
Designer: Cey Adams
Photographer: Butch Belair
Before you even think it, Raekwon and Ghostface have admitted they went too far with their infamous “Shark Niggas (Biters)” skit where they accused the Notorious B.I.G. of “biting off of Nas sh*t!” Also, the baby with the afro was not a seed of Sean “Diddy” Combs or Christopher Wallace as an infant but actually Keithroy Yearwood, who is now about 30 years old. Apparently, the kid was found during a casting call, and his mother caught a cool $150 for two hours of the child’s cuteness to be forever imprinted on Hip-Hop.—Alvin aqua Blanco
Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill
Album package photographer: Eric Johnson
Art Director, Sony Music: Erwin Gorostiza
Sampling and remixing is at Hip-Hop’s core, so it only makes sense that the debut album from one of the genre’s most revered artists, Ms. Lauryn Hill, would take inspiration from several places. The soulful center of The Fugees had her own visage carved into a desk because she knew she was about to school an entire industry.
“She already had some great ideas that were inspired by the album title. I don’t think I ever had an artist so involved with their imagery before this point. I insisted that the art direction credit be given to her along with myself,”Art Director Erwin Gorostiza, told Okayplayer.com.
A photograph of Ms Hill taken by Eric Johnson at her alma mater, Columbia High School in South Orange, New Jersey, was “carved” into the desk by retoucher Will Kennedy.
“In 1998, Photoshop was not anywhere near as powerful. Retouchers made up for it with all their skills and talent. Will had a knack for getting the art to look just right.”—Jerry Barrow
Nas, Illmatic
Designer/Photographer: Aimée Macauley
Illmatic’s cover was designed Aimée Macauley and a features a well-worn photograph of a 7-year-old Nas that was taken by his father, Jazz musician Olu Dara. The city photo young Nasty Nas’ face is superimposed over was taken by Danny Clinch. The legend goes that Nas originally intended for the album cover to be a picture of him holding Jesus Christ in a headlock. While the nod to his Live at the BBQ verse where rapped “When I was 12, I went to hell for snuffing Jesus” would have been welcomed by Hip-Hop diehards, the chosen cover option was for the best.—Alvin aqua Blanco
ODB, Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version
Art Direction: Alli True
Photography: Danny Clinch
ODB draped himself in truth like a North Face Denali Fleece. “I came out my momma pussy, I’m on welfare. Twenty-six years old–still on welfare,” he growls on the quixotic confessional “Raw Hide” from his 1995 debut. So it’s no surprise that Dirty would use his own food stamp card to adorn said release, creating the most iconic Hip Hop album cover of all time.
“That album cover was completely his idea…he literally came to my office with his welfare card,” A&R Dante Ross confirms in an interview. Thanks to a color Xerox machine (an expensive favor in the pre-scanner days), the head of the art department, a Wu-Tang fan, was able to mock up a 10×12 cover long before the album was even finished. “He was like ‘I’m the realest…I grew up in poverty and I’m not ashamed of who I am’…he was making a conscious decision to be the polar opposite of the shiny suits and to do it in a way that was funny.”—Jerry Barrow
A Tribe Called Quest, The Low End Theory
Designer/Photographer: Nick Gamma, Jean Kelly & Dave Skillken aka ZombArt
The legend goes that Q-Tip wanted a painted woman, akin to something you would find on an Ohio Players album cover [https://rockthebells.com/articles/low-end-theory-midnight-marauders-a-tribe-called-quest/] The live photos, taken by Joe Grant, were just a start and the proper artwork was created by Jean Kelly aka ZombArt JK while Nick Gamma aka ZombArt NG handled the lettering. Along with Dave Skillken they all worked in the art department of Tribe’s record label Jive’s parent company Zomba Recordings. Since Jive was on 4080-mode when it came to getting credit, they were known as the Zombart collective as a compromise. While the music spoke for itself, the classic cover with its afrocentric pallet of colors made the cipher complete.—Alvin aqua Blanco
Check out the full list of the Top 50 Hip-Hop Album Covers of all time over at HipHopDX.
“I just need to make one edit. Could we start talking while I do it?” Mike Dean asks, lowering himself into a leather office chair in his Los Angeles home studio.
He swivels his seat to face a widescreen monitor and scrolls through scores of waveforms in his Pro Tools session, searching for the right spot to doctor. It’s a song from Diddy’s just-released The Love Album: Off the Grid called “Another One of Me” (featuring The Weeknd, French Montana and 21 Savage), and mere days before its Sept. 15 release, Dean has been tasked with crafting a slightly cleaner version of 21’s verse.
Despite the clear urgency of the work, Dean appears unfazed, steady. “It’s OK. I like to do eight things at a time,” he explains while he rotates among vocal editing, answering questions, FaceTiming a manager and ripping from his bong. This is not the first time the writer, producer and engineer has performed last-minute miracles for an A-lister’s song — and it certainly won’t be the last.
Dean’s stoicism and keen editing ear are among the many reasons he has been hip-hop’s most in-demand collaborator for decades, often skillfully guiding the genre’s most temperamental and perfectionistic talents — from Kanye West to Travis Scott to Jay-Z — to complete their best work.
He recalls the February 2016 evening when West played his seventh studio album, The Life of Pablo, for fans at Madison Square Garden in New York. With a packed house of nearly 20,000 at the arena and 20 million tuned in at home through a livestream, West shared a sampling of its tracks, including now essential hits like “Famous” and “Ultralight Beam.” As on the six West albums that had preceded it, Dean was a trusted collaborator in creating Pablo. Fans waited well past the event’s scheduled start time, but few could have guessed the reason for the delay: Almost none of the songs were done.
“It was crazy,” recalls Dean as he clicks over to his camera roll on the monitor, searching back to the photos he took that night. “We had 16 songs unfinished. I think we finished something like four songs, gave them to Kanye, and he went down there and played that shit in front of 20,000 people.
“Then I finished some more and rushed from the studio. We had to jump out of the cab about 10 blocks before the arena because the traffic was so bad,” he continues, still searching for that specific night on his camera roll, casually whisking his cursor past other culture-defining moments in the process: The Weeknd’s headlining Coachella set, West’s Yeezus-era Saturday Night Live performance and many raucous Scott shows. “I ran to MSG, fought to get to the basement and then to the floor and gave him the memory stick.”
Michael Tyrone Delaney
Finally, Dean locates one of the pictures of that night. In it, West stands in the center of the frame in a red long-sleeve shirt and black baseball cap, arms lifted above his head. Under the halo of a white spotlight, he appears to be leading a religious rite rather than a listening party. Dean stands to West’s right sporting a flat bill hat from MWA, his label, and a slick black windbreaker. Despite the preceding chaos, Dean’s countenance betrays no signs of alarm. “I’m calm, really,” he says with a shrug, zooming in on himself in the background. “I’ll put a memory stick in a computer in front of thousands of people.”
His most prolific relationship of all is with West, whom the Texas born-and-bred producer-engineer met when he was still living in Houston circa 2002. In the preceding years, Dean had become a local legend, defining the sound of the Dirty South by producing, writing and mixing records for Geto Boys and Scarface and touring with acts like Selena.
“Kanye first came to my house when he was working on his mixtape, songs like ‘Through the Wire.’ I remember he had on a backpack and tight pants,” he says with a laugh. “You know, people in Texas don’t wear tight pants.”
Though West has now cycled through dozens — if not hundreds — of other creative collaborators throughout his career, Dean has been his singular through line. He has been with the artist from mixing parts of The College Dropout (2004) to producing much of Donda 2 (2022). He says the key to fostering such long-term relationships with artists, including West, is to not “try to follow them too much” and “stand up for what [I think] is right” for a song. “You let them do their thing but steer them in the right direction,” he says, though he admits “that gets harder, though, as they get bigger and bigger.” (Dean declined to comment about the current status of his creative relationship with West.)
Michael Tyrone Delaney
Don Toliver, who worked on his 2020 hit “After Party” with Dean, says he loves collaborating with the producer because he is “the ultimate badass at mixing and mastering. If Tony Montana from Scarface worked in the music industry, he would be Mike Dean, deep into his craft and bringing that essence and vibe to the music as well.”
But Dean’s best-known strength is his penchant for synthesizers. From where he sits in his studio, these analog instruments cocoon him, stacked in columns up and down all four walls of the room. He points out a few of his favorites: a Memory Moog from 1978, the latest Prophet from Dave Smith Instruments. Then Dean gestures across the room to a clunky keyboard with colorful knobs and buttons and wood grain siding. “That’s the one Michael [Jackson] played ‘Billie Jean’ on. That’s the most important synth in the room,” he says, beaming. Of course, he has other favorites in storage — in his two garages, his other studio or his Texas house.
In recent years, some Dean acolytes have dubbed him “The Synth God.” “Every year, I turn the synths up a couple dBs [decibels],” he jokes. “On [West’s 2005] Late Registration, the synths were really tucked in, but since then it has just gotten louder and louder.”
While many of his contemporaries add so-called “producer tags” — audio identifiers on tracks where they stake their claim — Dean mostly shies away from that. “My sound is usually my tag,” he says matter-of-factly. It’s a claim that’s evident on records that feature what has become known as a Mike Dean Outro — a 30-second- to minute-long ending devoted to Dean’s transcendent synth work; one of the best-known examples is on Scott’s 2019 single “Highest in the Room.” Of the 59 total producer credits and 106 songwriter credits Dean has amassed on the Billboard Hot 100, “Highest in the Room” is one of his few No. 1s (along with Scott’s Drake-featuring “Sicko Mode” and Kid Cudi collaboration “The Scotts”). “That’s when the outro really went viral,” he says, though that was far from its first iteration. He has been doing these characteristic endings since West’s “Stronger” in 2007. “I just always jam on songs as much as possible… But [the outros are] becoming almost cliché to me now,” he says.
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Savvy rap fans have known about Dean since the 2000s — or earlier, if they followed Houston hip-hop — but the producer, 58, has intentionally increased his visibility in recent years. During the COVID-19 lockdowns, Dean started to see himself as more of an artist in his own right. He began a series of solo albums, released annually every April since 2020, each titled 4:20, 4:21, 4:22 and, most recently, 4:23.
He also started livestreaming as he played around on his synths, building avant garde instrumentals from scratch as teenagers frantically sent goat and fire emojis in the chat. The videos let Dean be more transparent with his process, and they amassed a following quickly, even among his famous friends like The Weeknd — who texted Dean, “You should open for me on tour.” Soon he was performing with the singer in stadiums around the world. To keep up with his other musical commitments, Dean worked out of a 10-foot-by-10-foot makeshift studio, designed for the back of his tour bus.
“It wasn’t too hard to work out of there, really,” he explains. “I did Travis’ second album in the back of a bus once. Plenty of my songs have been made like that.” It was during that time on the road, he says, that he created much of the songs and score for The Idol, the dark HBO drama co-created by The Weeknd and Euphoria producer Sam Levinson. The show was widely panned and ultimately canceled; one of its highlights, however, was Dean’s scoring work and soundtrack. Apart from co-writing the score for Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II, The Idol was Dean’s first major gig as composer, and his synth mastery laid the perfect morose undertone for the action onscreen.
Dean himself was also written into the show, playing “Mike Dean,” and furthering his mystique. In his first scene, he arrived in a matte black Tesla, emerging from the car’s butterfly doors in a fog of smoke, bong in tow — a meme-worthy entrance caricaturing his real-life demeanor and pot habit. It was Levinson’s idea: “I was first approached about Euphoria season two,” Dean says, which ultimately did not happen. “Then they asked me if I wanted to do music for The Idol, and when I met Sam, he asked me, ‘Well, do you want to be in the show, too?’ I guess he thought I was funny.”
Michael Tyrone Delaney
But moving forward, Dean says TV and film work isn’t a priority: “I’d work on some select projects but not too much. I’m looking more at being an artist and putting out my own music and touring than anything else right now.” And as usual, he’s dutifully at work behind the scenes on the year’s biggest records. In 2023, he has already lent his expertise to Scott’s Utopia, the Idol soundtrack and Metro Boomin’s Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse soundtrack. And because Dean is never entirely predictable, he also worked on Paranoia, Angels, True Love by Christine and the Queens.
“I don’t work much,” he insists. “I just smoke weed and f–king hang out and make music — it’s not work.” He swiftly turns his head to look back at the monitor, refocusing. “Sorry,” he says. “I actually need to get to editing this.”
This story will appear in the Oct. 7, 2023, issue of Billboard.
It’s been a busy year for M83, and it’s not done yet. After releasing his ninth studio album, Fantasy, this past March, the French musician has been on the road with his band for a 30-date spring and summer run in the U.S., Europe and Mexico, immersing audiences in the lush, cerebral, often thrilling dream pop that’s made the artist, born Anthony Gonzalez, a revered figure since his 2000s breakthrough (and particularly the release of the 2011 classic Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming).
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The fall leg of the Fantasy tour launched last night (Oct. 3) in Tacoma, Wash. and extends through mid-month with dates throughout the Pacific Northwest, California, Nevada and a final show at Austin City Limits on Oct. 15.
Amidst praise for the new album — 13 tracks of transportive, deep, pretty and emotionally evocative music — Gonzalez has also gotten attention for the monster mask he’s wearing on the cover art and in all the promotional materials, a slightly scary but now seasonally appropriate guise he says is “a way of hiding myself from the world.”
He did, however, hit a wave of unwanted attention after a March interview in which he said that “EDM is probably one of the styles of music that I hate the most,” expressing disdain that his era-defining hit “Midnight City” is so often played by “these bro EDM DJs.” Gonzalez later clarified, releasing a statement that “I do not hate the EDM community. No! I am forever grateful for the love and support,” but adding that he does hate “DJs using my music without any permission.”
Here, Gonzalez shares if any DJs have asked for this permission, why he’s more comfortable in the monster mask and why he doesn’t believe in guilty pleasure music.
1. Where are you in the world right now, and what’s the setting like?
Just arrived in Seattle to start the last leg of the Fantasy tour. I always loved this city. It feels like Seattle has a soul and spirit that is highly inspiring.
2. What is the first album or piece of music you bought for yourself, and what was the medium?
A cassette of the album Number of the Beast by Iron Maiden, which was sold to me by my brother’s friend Fred. I was immediately attracted by the fantastical cover art and the sound that felt like discovering a new planet. I was 10 years old and suddenly hooked to rock music.
3. What did your parents do for a living when you were a kid, and what do or did they think of what you do for a living now?
My mum was the owner of a very cute little fabric store in the heart of Antibes old town, while my dad was a police inspector. Neither of them had anything to do with music, though my mother always pushed my brother and I to play a musical instrument. I feel extremely lucky that my parents always supported us in our choice of being a musician and a movie director. We always had the freedom to do what we liked.
4. What’s the first non-gear thing you bought for yourself when you started making money as an artist?
I actually don’t remember buying anything but musical instruments when I started to earn money with my music. It has always been my sole obsession.
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5. If you had to recommend one album for someone looking to get into electronic music, what would you give them?
I think it would be a Tangerine Dream album called Phaedra. It’s a dark but rewarding album that takes you on a journey to very strange places. One of my very first shocks as a teenager listening to electronic music.
6. What’s the last song you listened to?
“Pygmy Love Song” by Francis Bebey.
7. You’ve been on the road behind Fantasy since April. Has there been anything surprising or particularly interesting to you about the way the album has come to life in the live setting?
To me, it’s the team I’ve put together for the tour that keeps me wanting to play more. I love my band and crew. They always have my back and they keep inspiring me every night on stage. I don’t think I could have done it without them.
8. I understand you’re about to release “Mirror,” the unreleased Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming-era track. Why, and why is this the right time?
Simply because it’s a track that never came out digitally and we close our shows with that song. The response of the audience has been great so far, and it’s an unknown song that deserves to be properly released in my opinion.
9. The creature that’s on the cover of Fantasy and in a lot of your promotional materials for it — what is that creature? What motivates it? Why does it represent this album?
It’s a way of hiding myself from the world. I absolutely hate seeing me. It’s starting to scare me to know that so many photos and videos of me are online. Ideally I would like to be able to have control over such images, but it’s just practically impossible. So I choose to protect myself and just fight to make sure that my music stays the main protagonist in what I do.
10. You wrote on social media that “I want to keep having fantasies about worlds that I don’t know and creatures I don’t understand, and that’s the story behind this record.” Unpack that a bit more for us — have you kept having those fantasies? Why is this important to you?
I’m just a dreamer, and anything related to being an adult in a modern world is boring and terrifying to me. The ultra-connected aspect of our society is making life more stressful. Emails, socials, my phone, they are all my worst enemies. My imagination saves me from turning insane with it all. Music helps a lot.
11. Based on things you’ve said in previous interviews, it sounds like you’re ready to move away from Los Angeles. What did the city give you while you were there? Why is it time to leave?
I’m not gone yet, but I’m seriously considering it. L.A. will always be the city of dreams for me. When I moved here almost 15years ago I felt like anything was possible. It really helped me to be a better artist by allowing me to be close to more talented and successful people than me. In that way it pushed me to be a stronger person and to work more.
But I miss France a lot, my family and friends, my culture and my roots. I’m lucky that I can share my time between California and France, even though traveling has become more and more difficult. A lot has changed in 15 years, and not in a good way. Just going to an airport now is such an exhausting and draining experience.
12. What are you seeking elsewhere?
Peace of mind. A quiet life making music close to my loved ones, far from the noise and superficiality of a big megalopolis like Los Angeles.
13. You made headlines around the release of Fantasy with some comments about EDM and about how you wish DJs would ask permission before playing your music. Have any since asked for that permission? If so, did you grant it?
A few have asked yes, and I thank them for it. Of course I grant it. I know that DJs helped my music to be more popular, and I’m thankful for it. It’s just a different world with different rules. I have to learn to let go sometimes.
14. But, surely there are DJs who play other peoples’ music that you enjoy. Maybe? Was there a particularly great set you’ve been to recently?
I don’t think I’ve ever listened to a DJ, no. It’s not my culture and [I’ve] never been attracted to the club scene.
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15. What’s one song you wish you had written?
None. I’ve never been envious of anyone. I have respect yes, and there are so many artists that I love to death, but that’s all. I believe we need to accept that some artists are more talented and successful than yourself. So many songs and albums move me in a very deep way, but even so I never wished to be someone else. I’m already trying to accept myself as an artist, which is an extremely difficult process to me.
16. Do you have guilty pleasure music?
No, I don’t like this expression of guilty pleasure. If you get pleasure listening to something then it’s just good!
17. The proudest moment of your career thus far?
Being myself and making the records I want.
18. What’s the best business decision you’ve ever made?
I hate the word “business.” I don’t like talking about success, money etc. Being able to make music is a gift, and that’s all I care about.
19. Who was your greatest mentor, and what was the best advice they gave you?
Justin Meldal-Johnsen. Moving to L.A. and meeting him was a blessing. He helped me find myself in so many ways. I always go to him when I need guidance. He’s like a brother to me, and I love the fact that he always says what he thinks, even when it hurts.
20. One piece of advice you’d give to your younger self?
Be happy, music is cool.
In February, during a writing camp in Palm Springs, Calif., singer-songwriter Teddy Swims had a professional breakthrough — amid a period of personal turmoil, following a breakup. “I was so unhinged at the time,” he remembers. “I just needed to say a lot of stuff.” Over the course of five days, he poured his emotions into half of the songs that would ultimately comprise his debut album, including his biggest hit to date, “Lose Control.”
Rooted in piano-driven production — and an impressive ability to stretch his vocal runs — the R&B-pop ballad details a relationship that’s been tainted by substance abuse. “Lose Control” has steadily grown since its release in late June, leading to Teddy Swims’ first entry on the Billboard Hot 100. “When it was finished, I was showing everybody before the song came out,” he says. “I just felt that energy, like, ‘This is lighting in a bottle.’ I knew this was going to change my life.”
Born Jaten Dimsdale, the 31-year-old began performing a decade ago at his suburban Atlanta high school, trading football for musical theater (he joined with a friend, who still plays guitar in his live band today). His senior year was particularly pivotal: he helped the theater department out of debt prior to graduation with an in-school production of a Star Wars musical parody he created with his teacher. That same year, his band at the time, Heroic Bear, released its first EP, a hardcore project he now deems “really bad.”
In the years that followed, he explored countless genres including country, alternative, funk and metal in various musical projects. “He was in, I kid you not, like eight bands,” says Luke Conway, who started managing Teddy Swims while he was touring as an opening hip-hop act in early 2019. “He was doing every single thing that you could possibly do.”
From left: Teddy Swims and manager Luke Conway photographed on September 15, 2023 in New York.
Meredith Jenks
In June 2019, on the 10th anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death, Teddy Swims uploaded a YouTube cover of “Rock With You” that soon went viral. The success prompted him to ask his friends for a six-month commitment to help him keep momentum. During that time frame, he sang classics (Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me”) and hits of the moment (Lewis Capaldi’s “Someone You Loved”) alike, with his spins on Shania Twain’s “You’re Still the One” and Mario’s “Let Me Love You” each eclipsing 100 million YouTube views. Publishers called first, then booking agencies, and before long, a dozen record labels had made offers. On Christmas Eve 2019 — a day short of six months from when he uploaded “Rock With You” — he signed to Warner Records.
While the covers helped grow Teddy Swims’ audience on a global scale, his priority upon signing was to create an identity all his own. “Some people get stuck in that world and never really make it out,” he says. “There was a lot of fear in no one caring about my [original] songs. I wanted to be an artist with my music.”
Warner placed him in rooms with veteran songwriter-producers like Julian Bunetta and John Ryan to help him hone his voice, and over the next few years, he wrote hundreds of songs, releasing singles across four EPs (including the holiday-themed A Very Teddy Christmas) and getting featured on tracks by Meghan Trainor, X Ambassadors and others. “I go back and listen to some songs that I did four years ago,” Teddy Swims reflects. “They started this idea of the signature Teddy sound that I feel like I’m finally nailing now.”
Teddy Swims photographed on September 15, 2023 in New York.
Meredith Jenks
That “signature” sound punctuates his September debut album, I’ve Tried Everything But Therapy (Part 1), which is full of “sad boy breakup songs,” as he puts it. His powerhouse vocals (“Some Things I’ll Never Know,” “The Door”) and poignant writing chops (“Suitcase”) are on display throughout its 10 tracks, but no song better illustrates the style he’s created than “Lose Control.” After its June release, he shared three new versions — live, strings and piano — as the song gained steam on digital service providers and radio. By the end of August, “Lose Control” debuted on the Hot 100, where it has since reached a No. 67 peak. On Adult Pop Airplay, it climbs to a new No. 26 high on the Oct. 7-dated chart.
As the hit keeps growing, Conway says the strategy isn’t to strike while the iron is hot with unrelated follow-up content. In fact, it’s the opposite: he hopes the song becomes “cemented in culture” in the months to come, likening “Lose Control” to Chris Stapleton’s “Tennessee Whiskey” and Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy.”
“We have to be protective,” he says. “It’s his story. This is the golden egg we’ve been searching for and fighting to dig out of the ground for five years. There have been a lot of conversations about finding a feature, but we see the lifespan of this song. We can’t dilute it by giving it anybody else’s identity.”
Teddy Swims is currently on a 43-date North American tour in support of the project, studying how each city reacts to the new material. “There’s no A&R that [compares to] when you’re at a show and you see what really moves people,” he says. As the title of his album suggests, there are plans for another installment. He says it could arrive by the middle of next year, though both he and Conway share that the writing likely won’t begin until after the tour wraps.
However, Teddy Swims does suggest that, if all goes well, the follow-up will contain brighter content. “I’m really hoping the next time is me falling back in love and moving on,” he says, taking a beat and then laughing. “Or it’s more sad s–t. You never know. Life is happening to us, what are you going to do?”
Teddy Swims photographed on September 15, 2023 in New York.
Meredith Jenks
A version of this story will appear in the Oct. 7, 2023, issue of Billboard.
Since entering the dance scene nearly a decade back, Spencer Brown has made his name on progressive house music that’s lush, emotive and pristinely produced.
That last part is not a coincidence. Brown, 29, has always been a hyper-perfectionist, and in the last few years he’s gotten a better understanding about why.
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“There’s been symptoms and signs since I was a kid,” Brown tells Billboard over Zoom. “It got really intense five or six years ago, but I didn’t know what was going on.”
What was going on was obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), which Brown was formally diagnosed with during the pandemic but had always been a part of his life. The American Psychiatry Association defines OCD as “a disorder in which people have recurring, unwanted thoughts, ideas or sensations (obsessions). To get rid of the thoughts, they feel driven to do something repetitively (compulsions).”
For Brown, OCD manifests as an extreme discomfort with uncertainty, with his obsessive thought loops being the compulsion attempting to mitigate it. Since childhood, Brown would find six different ways to ask his parents the same question. As an adult, he’d barrage his team with texts about how tickets to his shows were selling and ask 40 different people which of two mixes they thought sounded better.
“The thing is with with OCD, a lot of people think it means you have to like clean everything,” Brown says. “But in reality, it can come out in so many different ways and for me, it’s almost purely a mental thing. The ritual, so to speak, of milling over things that are uncertain.”
Certainty can be hard to come by for most people, and can be especially elusive for someone in a profession that relies on ticket sales, streams and consistent artistic inspiration. But after starting work with a therapist, Brown says he’s “learned how to sit with being uncertain about something better than I used to.”
It thus follows that his latest album is called Equanimity, a word Merriam-Webster defines as “evenness of mind especially under stress.” Out this past Friday (Sept. 29) via diviine, the album — Brown’s third studio LP — took him four years to make and found him spending 12-18 hours in the study every day during the last three months of production. He says that when he listens to it, he’s certain it’s his best work to date.
“The theme of this album is personal growth, not letting things out of your control affect your mental state,” he says. “That was a lesson I learned that I tried to capture into this music.”
Here, Brown talks about his diagnosis.
Tell me about how your OCD manifests.
With music, OCD for me comes out in perfectionism. I think that’s the blessing of this thing, because I’m so dialed in on what I’m doing. If it’s not a perfect mix, I’m gonna just keep on working on it and testing it out. I have an issue that I’ll finish it and turn it into mastering, then they’ll send the master back, I’ll sit with it and be like, “is this messed up?” I’ll sit with those thoughts, then maybe a couple of weeks later I’ll have to go back and redo the whole thing.
It sometimes drives people who work with me nuts, but we’ve learned to work in a productive way, where my team is fully aware of how my brain works, and I’m fully aware of how my brain works. They understand that sometimes I have this thing, and they totally accept that.
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Are there are other aspects?
I’ve had to make a conscious effort to not bother my team too much. I used to really worry all the time about ticket sales. For a big show, let’s say a couple days before we only have 200 tickets sold, and we need to sell 1,500 tickets. I would be freaking out like, “Is this going to be bad? Are people going to show up?”
I’d be blowing up my team like, “Do you think there’s gonna be walk ups?” But I get to the show and maybe 1,000 people buy a ticket the day of the show, and it’s a packed show. And I’m like, “Why did I spend days having so much anxiety about how this is going to be, when really all I can do is just promote the show?” So now we have a thing on my team. I don’t get ticket sales number counts. No one gives me any of that stuff anymore. It’s really, really helpful for me.
When did that boundary get put in place?
I would say post-COVID. I really started to understand how OCD affects my life about a year into COVID, which is a funny thing, because there’s so much uncertainty with COVID. That was a true test of not letting [OCD] run my life. Basically I learned practicing equanimity, which is which is what my album is called. That means all these things can be happening around you, but you have to ground yourself and understand it’s okay that you don’t know… You have to be okay with uncertainty.
What was the response within your peer group, when you shared the diagnosis?
I do have friends who deal with similar things. But obviously everyone’s very supportive. It’s like, this is my personality. This is how I have been my whole life. All that’s changed is putting a label on how my brain works and realizing it’s slightly different than how other people’s brains work.
Everyone is totally understanding, especially my team, my peers, my collaborators. Everyone knows that this is how I am.
What other adjustments have you made?
Pre-COVID, before I learned how OCD manifests in my life, all I would do is cause myself anxiety. It was this anxiety cycle of uncertainty causing anxiety, then I would do things to try to get certainty, like texting 40 different people sending them two mixes saying “which mix is better?”
Half the people would like mix B, and half the people would like mix A, so then I would go into this loop of like, “oh my gosh, which one is right?” Then I would go to my car and test it. I would go to the club and test it. I would test it in my studio and on my headphones and on my air pod, over and over and over and over. At some point, you just need to decide like, “This is what it is. I’m done.” The past is the past, and I need to move on instead of dwelling.
And both versions are probably good.
They’re different. That’s it’s art is something I had to also had to learn. Some of these creative decisions, there is no right or wrong.
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What other tools have you used to work with your OCD?
I was going into this therapist who’s incredible. And I was talking through all these things that were going in my head that I couldn’t explain. I would say things like “I don’t know if this, or I don’t know if that and it’s giving me anxiety.”
He’d say, “You’re looking for certainty on this, and I can’t give it to you.” All the sessions turned into me basically speaking to a wall. I love the guy, but that was the whole point of the therapy. I learned the same feeling I’m having with my therapist, where he won’t give me certainty on what I have uncertainty for, I need to apply this to my life and music and everything. The lesson is that that there’s no certainty in a lot of things in life, and you just need to be okay with sitting with that.
Have you developed any particular methods of sitting with that, so to speak?
I had a really powerful experience at Burning Man [this year.] I boiled down my career to four principles that, if I do them, it’s all I need to focus on. One is to be a good person to everyone around me — team, venues, promoters, anyone around me. First and foremost, just be kind to everybody.
Number two is to love the music that I’m making. If I’m in the studio feeling like I’m making music for somebody else, or for some other reason other than the love of what I’m making, that’s not the right reason to make it.
Number three, when I’m playing shows, play the music I love, don’t cater to anyone; don’t pander to anyone. If it comes out of the speakers, it must come from the heart for me.
Number four is creating authentic content that is aligned with my values. It doesn’t matter what’s trending or what people think I should do. It must be authentic. These four things are what I’m focusing on in my career. The rest of the stuff like the ticket sales, the numbers, that’s all stuff I need to not focus on. Or comparing myself to others. There’s a lot of uncertainty in that of “Why did they get that?” None of that stuff is relevant.