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At the Eurovision 2023 Song Contest in May, 37 countries will participate, but only one nation is sending their act to the competition in Liverpool while their country is fighting a war. Tvorchi, the electronic music duo from Ukraine, has been recording and rehearsing while their homeland is under attack by forces commanded by Russian President Vladimir Putin.
In the weeks of early preparation and national competitions, the duo – producer Andrii (Andrew) Hutsuliak and vocalist Jimoh Augustus Kehinde (a.k.a. Jeffery Kenny) – ran from shelter to shelter to avoid unpredictable drone and missile strikes and weathered intermittent electricity outages. And while most countries vying for the Eurovision crown hold their national finals in theaters or arenas, Ukraine’s live broadcast for the 2023 contest took place in December at an underground metro station that has been used as a bomb shelter, with trains passing on both sides of the stage.
“We didn’t imagine this might happen, that any minute you could be killed by missiles,” co-founder Hutsuliak tells Billboard via Zoom. “In the first week of war, we had a lot of emotions, and we transferred all those emotions into how we can help our country and how to be more productive.”
The war affected the participation of Tvorchi (“creative” in Ukrainian) in Ukraine’s national final to determine which song would go to Eurovision, forcing the duo to do some recordings in shelters “There are the times we just grab the equipment and to go to the shelter and wait for the air (sirens) to turn off,” he says. During Tvorchi’s preparations in Kyiv, one day they were shooting video when an alarm sounded signaling a drone strike and missile attack, recalls Hutsuliak. “We ran to the shelter and were sitting there for four hours.”
With many power plants destroyed by Russian attacks, Ukrainian officials have conserved electricity by periodically shutting it off. “When you hear the alarm and the missiles strike, the electricity can go off,” says Hutsuliak. “We look for generators and big power banks where you can plug your laptop in there and charge your devices and go on.”
Since winning Ukraine’s national final, Tvorchi has focused on preparing its music and trying to tune out the dangerous conditions that threaten their lives. “We’re not physically participating in rehearsals yet,” says Hutsuliak. “We’re trying to get the music done as quickly as possible then we can move on to the choreography and trying out costumes and rehearsing for the show on stage.”
U.K. Steps Up To Host Despite Ukraine’s 2022 Eurovision Win
By tradition, the country that wins Eurovision hosts the competition the following year. In 2022, Ukraine won with The Kalush Orchestra’s “Stefania.” While Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky said he wanted his country to host the 2023 contest, the European Broadcasting Union selected the U.K. as substitute host, deeming it too dangerous to have the annual event in Ukraine.
“We are thankful that Britain is going to organize this and make it happen,” says Hutsuliak. The promos for the 2023 Eurovision will feature the blue and yellow colors of the Ukrainian flag inside the traditional heart-shaped logo, even though the competition is being held in the U.K.
Tvorchi and the delegation from Ukraine will have to travel from their besieged country to Liverpool, where the Eurovision final will be held on May 13 at the M&S Bank Arena. The duo has already been to London for a performance at the O2 Arena last fall, held to raise funds to buy military equipment for Ukraine.
While the country is under attack by air, there are no flights coming in or out of Ukrainian airports. “We can only travel by car or train,” says Hutsuliak. “Before Putin’s invasion, it took four or five hours to fly to London. [For the O2 performance] it took us 24 hours to get there. We traveled by car to the airport in Krakow, Poland and then we flew to Warsaw. Then we caught another plane to London.”
Even in London, the electronic duo struggled to avoid the feeling of trauma. “You hear a plane flying overhead and you get scared or anxious for no reason,” says Hutsuliak. “But it was nice to meet Ukrainians who lived in our country before the invasion, and it is nice to interact with them. There are Ukrainian people who live in Berlin, in London, in Portugal and in Spain and we appreciated sharing emotions and being in the moment.”
Both members of Tvorchi say it is important to continue making music and appearing on a global platform such as Eurovision. “We’re grateful for the opportunity to spread our message as well as represent the country,” Kenny tells Billboard. “Ukrainians don’t want to be pitied,” adds Hutsuliak. “You need to look at us and get inspired, be united and help so we can help you tomorrow.”
The duo has raised money for the Ukranian army and urges others to donate money and equipment, and to stream music from Ukrainian artists. (Among the platforms receiving donations is one organized by President Zelensky, United24.)
Tvorchi’s song for Eurovision, “Heart of Steel,” was inspired by the siege of Azovstal in Mariupol when the Ukrainian army defended the steel and iron works there, holding out for 82 days under brutal conditions before finally surrendering in May. The lyrics are also a warning about nuclear warfare. Tvorchi is keenly aware that Eurovision was originally created to peacefully unite the nations of Europe several years after the end of World War II.
“Heart Of Steel” is not Tvorchi’s first song inspired by the conflict with Russia. In the first months after the invasion began, they wrote a song called “Boremosia” whose lyrics include:
We fight and will win over everyone
the bullets are flying but we are strong
we fight, the worlds are divided
the voices for freedom have become as one
Last June, Tvorchi performed “Boremosia” for army soldiers in a camp, on a stage atop a big truck. “They opened the place where they usually store some ammunition,” says Hutsuliak “It was very valuable for us to be there to talk with the [soldiers] and support each other, to share the emotions and just be in the moment.”
Rushing from elementary school with handwritten raps in her pocket, 10-year-old Alyssa Michelle Stephens would hop in her father’s “old-school cars with [24-inch] rims” and head straight to the recording studio — first in his friends’ homes, but soon enough, in professional spaces. “When we started paying for sessions, he’d say, ‘You ain’t gon’ be in here all day,’ ” the artist now known as Latto recalls. “ ‘You better have that song ready, top to bottom, one take, in and out!’ ” Even then, the Atlanta-raised aspiring MC — today a chart-topping, Grammy-nominated rapper with more than 1 billion on-demand streams in the United States, according to Luminate — was preparing for her destiny, winning high school writing competitions as a fifth grader.
Nurtured by her accountant mother and “hustler” father — both of whom she recalls living off ramen noodles during her early years — the self-proclaimed “daddy’s girl” stayed ahead of the curve, accompanying him to video shoots where rising acts like Dem Franchize Boyz and Ciara used his cars. “I just remember being so mesmerized by the whole process,” she says. “I loved the fast-paced hustle and bustle.” At 16, Latto competed on (and won) the first season of Lifetime’s hip-hop reality show, The Rap Game, under the moniker Miss Mulatto. Already, she had the foresight to recognize a bad career move when she saw one and, citing a less-than-adequate payout, turned down the show’s grand prize — a record deal with Jermaine Dupri’s So So Def Recordings — and remained independent until she signed to RCA Records in 2020, following the success of her breakthrough single, “B–ch From Da Souf.”
Christian Cowan dress and shoes, Sterling King jewelry.
Ssam Kim
Today, studio costs are no object to Latto, 24, who locks herself in the booth, pumping out 10 songs at a time about quarrels with her man or whatever inspires her on a given day. That tireless approach — Latto says she has hundreds of unreleased tracks stockpiled — has paid dividends, most notably with her massive 2021 hit, “Big Energy.” The song established Latto as a mainstream force — even if its mere existence was by no means a foregone conclusion.
“I heard my A&R and management whispering, debating on whether or not to play this beat for me,” Latto recalls. “It was just so different from everything else that I’ve done. They were hesitant on how I would react.” In the end, she loved the beat, despite not recognizing its biggest draw: a snippet of “Genius of Love,” the 1981 Tom Tom Club song famously sampled on Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy.”
“It ended up working in my favor,” she says. “I feel like that’s what kept it so ‘Latto.’ ” Still, the track’s eventual success surprised her. “I could feel the potential of the song and how commercial it was,” she continues, “but I definitely didn’t think it would be Grammy-nominated.”
Latto photographed on January 18, 2023 at The Paramour Estate in Los Angeles. Brandon Blackwood coat, Jessica Rich shoes, Versace eyewear courtesy of Tab Vintage, Sara Shala necklace.
Ssam Kim
For Latto, those wins paled in comparison to another “Big Energy” achievement: Carey herself called Latto’s management and chatted with the rapper for over an hour, leading to her appearance on the track’s March 2022 remix. “She was just embracing me and telling me she loves everything I’m doing,” Latto gushes. “It was a super out-of-body experience.”
Since “Big Energy” and Carey’s assist, Latto has positioned herself as rap’s biggest sweetheart. This year’s Powerhouse exudes warmth as she melts into her seat at Los Angeles’ Paramour Estate for her Billboard interview, flashing a bright white smile that contrasts with her painted-on, fire-engine red pantsuit. “You have to [ask yourself], ‘What am I going to sound like? What am I going to rap about? What will my beats sound like? Where’s my lane in the industry?’ ” she explains of her meticulously planned path. “Once you figure that out, you figure out the business side. Otherwise, you’re going to be high and dry when your 15 minutes are up.”
After breaking with “B–ch From Da Souf,” Latto diligently ensured her career would last. First, she changed her moniker from Mulatto to Latto, following controversy around the word’s connections to colorism. “New crib, new whip, new name/I’m still that b–ch,” she roared on her first single with RCA, “The Biggest,” adding on Instagram that the new name signified “a new chapter” and “good fortune, spiritually and financially.”
Her predictions came true, as “B–ch From Da Souf” became her first entry on the Billboard Hot 100 (peaking at No. 95) and both it and its follow-up, the Gucci Mane-featuring “Muwop,” went platinum. Her second album with RCA, 777, debuted at No. 15 on the Billboard 200, and within two years, she’d hit No. 3 on the Hot 100 with “Big Energy.”
ACT N°1 gown.
Ssam Kim
Since then, the rapper has received widespread support from women artists including Queen Latifah, Trina, City Girls, Cardi B, SZA, Remy Ma and Lizzo, who tapped Latto to support both North American legs of her Special arena tour. “I get a lot of love,” she says with an exuberant smile. “Real recognize real.”
And Latto intends to pay it forward, gushing over other newcomers like Flo Milli, Lola Brooke and GloRilla. “My No. 1 thing has been being a girl’s girl,” she explains. “I utilize my power in uplifting others on my way up. When you see Latto do a feature with an upcoming female rapper, I don’t charge them. The label got to cover the glam, but I don’t profit off that.”
Considering her youth, Latto has also displayed considerable foresight and grace thus far, which she attributes to the “get-it-out-the-mud” mentality she inherited from her teen parents. “[That’s why] I know what I want,” she adds.
Still, her cool under pressure has been tested. Last year, the rapper — like many her age, a fan of Nicki Minaj’s since childhood — became embroiled in a bitter Twitter battle with the rap legend, who had expressed frustration with the Recording Academy following its categorization of “Super Freaky Girl” as a pop song when considering it for the 2023 Grammys. “If [‘Super Freaky Girl’] has 2B moved out RAP then so does Big Energy!” Minaj wrote in a tweet that led to a blowout fight with Latto, who posted a recording of a phone call they’d had.
“It’s difficult navigating through situations like that because there’s a disconnect. I will look at myself as a fan of someone and they will view [me] in a whole different light,” Latto explains today. “It’s disappointing. You just got to take it to the chin and keep pushing.”
Brandon Blackwood coat, Jessica Rich shoes, Versace eyewear courtesy of Tab Vintage, Sara Shala necklace.
Ssam Kim
So when social media drama next reared its head — late last year, more than 100 of Latto’s unreleased songs were leaked without her knowledge, including tracks that would become massive hits for rappers Coi Leray and BIA — she responded with restraint, simply posting a trio of photos captioned “Trending.”
“I had to stop using my age as an excuse, because I [was] like, ‘I’m not nobody momma, I’m not nobody teacher. I’m not raising your kids.’ But unintentionally, you are,” she says now. “They look up to you. So I try to put my best foot forward.”
Now, she’s focused on a new “authentic” chapter in her career. “Because I started rapping so young, I’ve had a lot of other cooks in the kitchen,” she says. “So now I’m taking control back.” That means exploring new sounds, releasing her latest single, the pop-centric “Lottery,” while staying true to her hip-hop roots.
“The content I’m about to roll out is a whole fresh new leaf,” says Latto. “I genuinely love to see the new wave of female rap, and I’m honored to be a part of it.”
Christian Cowan dress, Sterling King jewelry.
Ssam Kim
This story will appear in the Feb. 25, 2023, issue of Billboard.
Lana Del Rey practices “automatic singing.” Using the improvisational songwriting technique, she lets her voice carry over accompaniments, not commandeering where her words or melodies take her, accepting all ideas she has in the moment and editing them later. Lately, her voice has led her home, back to memories of her childhood in Lake Placid, N.Y., and to ruminations on relationships with her family and the divergent paths they’ve taken.
That subject underpins her upcoming ninth album, Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd (out March 24). Del Rey, 37, says she hesitantly began to unpack this subject matter with her previous album, Blue Banisters — but now, she’s ready to dig deeper. “At first I was so uncomfortable,” she says of the more personal material. “Then, by the grace of God, I just felt completely unburdened.”
Lia Clay Miller
As a singer-songwriter, this year’s Visionary honoree has embodied that word for over a decade. Her 2012 major-label debut, Born To Die, made her a star and defined music’s Tumblr era, as a young Del Rey toyed with both the romantic and the darker sides of the American dream. Her “world building,” as she calls it now, for her early work created a collage of beautiful and disparate images, pairing hip-hop aesthetics with references to the Kennedy family, Elvis Presley with John Wayne, and old Hollywood glamour with biker gang grit.
Since then, Del Rey has pushed musical boundaries — seamlessly peppering an album with features from Stevie Nicks to Playboi Carti (2017’s Lust for Life), reworking a Sublime cover into a contemporary Billboard Hot 100 hit (2019’s “Doin’ Time”), for instance — while achieving both critical acclaim and commercial success. She has earned six Grammy nominations and holds the record for most No. 1s on Billboard’s Alternative Albums chart. And somehow, each week, it seems a new song from her vast catalog gains traction on TikTok. (“West Coast” and “How To Disappear” are two recent breakouts.) Younger artists often cite her as an inspiration — including Billie Eilish, whom Del Rey now calls “my girl. It makes me feel comforted that music is going in such a good direction.”
Lia Clay Miller
Since 2019, you’ve released four albums. Is it fair to say you have more creative energy than ever?
I think it might look like that! It’s funny because I keep telling people, “I haven’t worked in three years,” but really I just haven’t done shows in three years. As soon as I start getting ready for a show, that’s when it feels like work.
How has your process changed since Born To Die came out?
Eleven years ago I wanted it to be so good. Now, I just sing exactly what I’m thinking. I’m thinking a little less big and bombastic. Maybe at some point I can have fun creating a world again, but right now, I would say there’s no world building. This music is about thought processing. It’s very, very wordy. I’m definitely living from the neck up.
Lia Clay Miller
Can you remember what it felt like creatively when you were just starting out?
I think back to the beginning, being in New York. I would just go to a little deli by Grand Central and all you had to do to sit at the table for hours was buy a black coffee. I remember thinking, “I’m doing it. I’m living it.” It was all very thrilling. I was so psyched back then.
You recently featured on Taylor Swift’s “Snow on the Beach.” What was collaborating with her like?
Well, first of all, I had no idea I was the only feature [on that song]. Had I known, I would have sung the entire second verse like she wanted. My job as a feature on a big artist’s album is to make sure I help add to the production of the song, so I was more focused on the production. She was very adamant that she wanted me to be on the album, and I really liked that song. I thought it was nice to be able to bridge that world, since Jack [Antonoff] and I work together and so do Jack and Taylor.
Who do you consider to be a visionary?
Joan Baez. I sang with her recently. She gave me a challenge: She said, “Go down a little road and look for a left turn and find my house [in Northern California]. If you find it and can play ‘Diamonds and Rust’s’ high harmony, I’ll come to Berkeley with you and sing.” So my sister and I rented a car and searched for the house. I was very nervous. I don’t play guitar that well, but I learned the first three chords and sat across from her, [and when] we stopped playing, she was like, “Great, I’ll see you at Berkeley.”
And another visionary to me is Cat Power. I had heard that she would run offstage when she wasn’t feeling it or just turn her back to the [audience] and keep playing. That’s when I knew I could probably do this.
Lia Clay Miller
This story will appear in the Feb. 25, 2023, issue of Billboard.
One year ago, singers, songwriters, producers, guitarists, drummers and bandura players from Ukraine were making the transition from being musicians to soldiers, refugees and volunteers.
In interviews with Billboard, they complained of headaches and stress as they navigated their new daily routines of sheltering from bombing attacks. Today, the entire group of 14, from veteran rock star Oleg Skrypka to emerging rapper alyona alyona, are safe and healthy, though weary from navigating the pressures of balancing recording and touring careers with drawing attention to the Ukrainian cause. They are providing help and resources to the soldiers protecting them from Russian forces while working to ensure their families are out of danger.
As the country prepares to mark the one-year anniversary of the invasion on Feb. 24, Billboard followed up with the Ukrainians featured in last year’s story. War has changed their lives in dramatically different ways. Andriy Khlyvnyuk, the singer-songwriter behind Boombox, is a soldier. The electro-folk duo ONUKA fled the country and relocated to Switzerland to preserve their mental health. Through a translator, Natalia Rybka-Parkhomenko of folk group Kurbasy tells how her brother returned home briefly to Lviv before going back to his military post. “He said the sausage at the petrol station is something unbelievable that he enjoys,” she says. “The shower, the washing machine, the heating system. We take it for granted. The art of small things brings you happiness.” For these musicians, those small things include making new songs, playing gigs and marketing their music on social media.
Andriy Khlyvnyuk
On the February day when Khlyvnyuk, 43, connects with Billboard from Kyiv, he is crashing at his sparsely furnished apartment. At one point, he pulls back his phone camera to show baggage and equipment strewn about the floor. The following day, he is to return to the front line, where he operates drones to identify and kill Russians. “It flies 400 meters high and it can fly 20 miles,” he says. “I’m more or less secure.” In two weeks, Khlyvnyuk will take a break from war to temporarily resume his lifelong occupation as the singer-songwriter for Boombox, which collaborated last year with Pink Floyd on the Ukrainian war song “Stand Up.” The group will soon tour North America for three weeks. Khlyvnyuk is a musician. He writes songs. How does he mentally process the killing of enemy soldiers? “I think all of us will have to go to the doctor when this s— ends,” Khlyvnyuk says.
Andriy Khlyvnyuk, front man of Boombox photographed March 24, 2022 in Kyiv.
Sasha Maslov
alyona alyona
Following delays due to the war and the pandemic, alyona alyona, the 31-year-old schoolteacher-turned-rapper best known for her 2018 viral hit, “Rybky,” was finally able to tour Europe and the United States last year. It was just part of her punishing travel schedule. Between gigs, she lives with her parents 40 minutes from Kyiv for roughly a week out of every month, then resides in Poland for another week for easy access to planes and airports. When she has extra time, she volunteers to visit Ukrainians in cities throughout Europe to give information about supporting the cause and helping refugees. “I live everywhere but nowhere,” she says. “It was gypsy life.” Early this year, her body demanded she take a break from the intensity and anxiety; her constant tooth-grinding had necessitated an operation. For a month, she shut out music and the war and spent time with her boyfriend and visited her grandfather. She returns to Europe for a tour later this month. “You have to think about yourself or you get sick,” she says, from a studio in Gdansk, Poland, where she is working on new tracks. “I know many Ukrainians feel the same.”
Alyona Alyona, Ukrainian rapper photographed March 23, 2022 in Kyiv.
Sasha Maslov
Kurbasy
No longer operating a shelter in Lviv’s Les Kurbas Theatre, Rybka-Parkhomenko and Mariia Oneshchak of folk group Kurbasy have pivoted to staging musical productions for 60 people nightly from Thursday to Sunday. Two young actors in their troupe left for the front line of the war, including one in a “very hot spot,” as Oneshchak calls it, speaking via Telegram with a translator. The student-soldier regularly texts photos and messages from the front. Like all Ukrainians, they’ve recalibrated their lives according to the whims of Russian bombing runs, which wake them up at 3 a.m. Oneshchak mentions a new military cemetery near her home. “She doesn’t look at it very often,” the translator says, “but still she notices how fast it grows. That is something she can’t get used to.” Adds Rybka-Parkhomenko: “When the victory will come, we won’t celebrate very loudly. We probably will just cry and sing about those heroes that we lost.”
From left: Mariia Oneshchak and Natalia Rybka-Parkhomenko of band Kurbasy photographed March 25, 2022 in Lviv.
Sasha Maslov
Yulia Yurina and Yana Polupanova
Kyiv studio-turned-shelter Masterskaya, where singer Yulia Yurina was living with another two dozen musicians after the Russian invasion, has closed. Yurina, who became regionally famous when her band YUKO competed in Ukraine’s national final for the 2019 Eurovision Song Contest, and Yana Polupanova, Masterskaya’s marketing director, are back to living in apartments. “All the recent Russian attacks, we have seen by our own eyes,” Yurina says during a Telegram call with a translator. “It creates a lot of problems, but life is precious.” Yurina, 28, has spent the past year organizing charity concerts, many of which are located in underground shelters, as well as teaching folk music and folklore as part of a program called Muzykuvannya. “Every day we are scared less and less, but it is not normal to wait for some kind of explosion,” says Polupanova, 27. “It is still putting us in a stress all the time.”
Astronata
Since electronic artists Nata Smirina and Ilya Misyura fled Lviv last April to live in Aarau, Switzerland, Smirina’s debilitating migraines have mostly subsided. “I’m not sure when the joy of living came back to me, specifically,” says Smirina, 31, who runs a clothing brand called hochusobitake and donates some proceeds to the war effort. “You don’t have these air alarms five times a day, really loud. People do not know. They’re 500 kilometers from the border and they do not even have this idea of what war is, and it’s happening not too far from here.” After crossing the border — an immigration officer interviewed Misyura, a Russian citizen who opposes the Ukrainian invasion, for two hours — they soon realized they had to compensate for the higher cost of living in Switzerland. So Misyura partially paused his longtime career as a producer and took a job as a scientific researcher at a university. They’ve since regained the emotional strength to make music again, putting out tracks by their electronic bands Astronata and purpurpeople. “It was like an opening to me,” says Smirina, who still hopes to marry Misyura someday, possibly in Portugal. “It’s crazy important for a person to have this feeling of safety ground under your feet. It gives you so much strength.”
Volodymyr Voyt
Halfway through a brief WhatsApp call, Volodymyr Voyt picks up one of his 15 banduras, a traditional Ukrainian instrument that combines elements of a zither and a lute, and begins strumming. This one was made in 1929, he says, and he has recovered all of them since fleeing from Kyiv to Lviv last year. “We are somewhat used to living in these conditions,” says Voyt, 43, who lives with his wife, Ruslana, also a bandurist, and his 3-year-old daughter, Tereza. Earlier that day, his family had to flee to a shelter in their apartment for seven minutes, although air-raid sirens can last as long as five hours. Tereza attends kindergarten and occasionally retreats to a basement shelter with no light. “This is very hard, I think,” Voyt says. Voyt toured Europe last year with the 100-plus-member Hryhory Verjovka Ukrainian National Folkloric Ensemble, then returned to Kyiv in June. Ruslana has been playing with the local NAONI Orchestra at local concert halls, and Voyt says, “Sometimes we have [an] alarm, and the concert [stops] and people must go in the basement.”
Vera Logdanidi
Splitting time between Kyiv and Budapest, Hungary, the DJ spent much of last year performing at electronic-music festivals and concerts. “Kyiv is my home and I have a lot of friends, I have a flat, I have some tasks to do,” says Logdnanidi, 34, who lives with her husband in Budapest while her mother lives in Kyiv. “It’s not like I finished my story with Ukraine and decided to leave.” She played a club gig last December in her hometown, although the curfews made it more difficult, as events must be completed before the streets close at 10 p.m. “It was super-cool to see people drinking, having fun,” she recalls. “But, you know, you have a shadow.”
Oleg Skrypka
Weary and red-faced in his Kyiv apartment building, with flickering power and a spotty internet connection, Skrypka, the frontman for popular Ukrainian rock band Vopli Vidopliasova, flashes a charismatic smile as he showcases his wartime resilience. “My generator works for hours,” he explains. “There is no petrol. So I went to put petrol in the generator. So now it works.” Skrypka has been touring Europe for much of the past year, obtaining permission from the Ukrainian government on each trip to take a train to Poland and access international airports. “Yeah, I am very tired. But it’s like that,” he says. “I understand it’s much more difficult to be here, on the front. My friends, or friends of my friends, they’re in very, very hard situations.” The band’s guitarist, who is in the army, was “lightly traumatized” and had to go to a military hospital, then back to Kyiv for two weeks. He reunited with Skrypka for a few concerts before returning to the army, Skrypa says.
1914
Now and then, Dmytro Kumar, frontman for the Ukrainian death-metal band 1914, messages Basil Lagenndorf to ask how things are going. “Fine, guys,” responds the band’s guitarist, who is serving in the military: He operates a grenade launcher at the front. “Tell my wife I’m OK. Keep on going.” Minus Lagenndorf, the band spent much of 2022 playing festivals and clubs in Europe, trying to draw attention to and raise support for the Ukrainian cause. But the experience isn’t the same as it used to be — and not just because fans sometimes upbraid Kumar for talking too much about war while on stage. “You’re checking your phones, you’re seeing this bombing and you call and say, ‘We will be home.’ You’re stressed every time,” says Kumar, 40, speaking by phone from his home in Lviv one evening when the electricity is more reliable. “You’re playing music because you must, not because it’s your dream and you [have] a lot of fun.”
ONUKA
After briefly moving to Warsaw to obtain travel documents for a U.S. tour last year, electronic musicians Nata Zhyzhchenko, 37, and Eugene Filatov, 39, of electro-folk band ONUKA, were forced to leave their two-year-old son, Alex, with a nanny at their Kyiv home. “It was the first day rockets were shelling Kyiv, just at night,” Zhyzhchenko recalls on a messaging app from the couple’s apartment on the sixth floor, as the sun sets through a large window. “When you are outside, especially when your child or parents or family is here, it’s very hard to accept.” (Alex’s first words were a Ukrainian phrase meaning “the light was gone.”) Determined to stay in Kyiv despite the “lizard-brain” realities of “run, hide, eat, sleep,” as Filatov describes them, the couple has made a single and video drawing connections between the current war and the 1932 Soviet-induced Holodomor, or Great Famine, in Ukraine. “When you have the work, it’s a great pleasure, because you have to do something and not concentrate just on power, light and alarm-siren issues,” Zhyzhchenko says.
Doechii recently watched Avatar: The Way of Water, and it got her thinking about a key Na’vi tenet: “All energy is borrowed, and someday you have to give it back.” “That’s exactly how I feel,” she says. “From the women before me, I’m borrowing their energy so that one day I can give it back to the girl after me. That’s what I’m here to do.”
In just the past year, the 24-year-old rapper from Tampa, Fla. — who started releasing music in the 2010s before self-funding her debut EP in 2020 — has used that energy to impressive ends. In March, she became the first female rapper to sign with Top Dawg Entertainment, subsequently scoring a record deal with Capitol as well. Late-night TV and awards show performances followed, as did a string of standout singles, most notably “Persuasive,” which has 30 million official U.S. on-demand streams, according to Luminate. She also released her major-label debut EP, the five-track she / her / black b–ch, which peaked at No. 23 on the Heatseekers Albums chart and featured Rico Nasty and labelmate slash “big sister” SZA.
“Everything aligned,” says Doechii. And yet, despite her stellar 2022, this year’s Rising Star is planning an even bigger 2023 — which will include the first male feature on one of her songs, a Coachella performance and the release of her first full-length. “I’m in year three of my five-year plan,” she continues. “I’m constantly rising and I definitely haven’t arrived yet — at all. But I’m coming.”
What kind of pressure have you felt as the first female rapper signed to Top Dawg Entertainment?
A good pressure, because I know with me being the first, the next female rapper on TDE is going to look to me, look at the things I did and didn’t accomplish, and hopefully be better than me. That’s the point. I’m a leader of a new era of TDE, which feels really good. A lot of my fans reach out all the time about the impact that I’m making for them just being an alternative Black girl. Doing it on TDE like this is cool.
You mentioned borrowing energy and passing it on. Who did that for you?
They don’t even know they did it for me. It was artists like Trina, Nicki Minaj, Lauryn Hill, SZA — just powerful women being powerful women. Even watching Beyoncé be Beyoncé, she shows me that I have permission to be a boss. I can be a woman, and I can be a boss. Then Rihanna, she’ll be like, “I can be a savage.” Sometimes I’m sassy, sometimes I’m not. Watching all of them gives me permission to be more of myself.
Doechii photographed on May 17, 2022 at Seret Studios in Brooklyn.
Hao Zeng
Is there a favorite recent memory you shared with your labelmate SZA?
She’s like a big sister to me. When we were on tour [in 2021] she gave me a lot of advice on what to expect from the industry and how to carry myself. She has just always been supportive of who I am.
You mentioned your five-year plan — what will year five look like?
By year five I want to be at my peak. I want to be in my Sasha Fierce era, the top of my game with still a long way to go — but I want to reach my prime and never leave it.
You show so many sides of yourself in your music. What haven’t we seen yet?
Y’all are going to get it this year. It’s my pop era. Usually I’m alone [in the studio], but these days I’ve been inviting people in. Usually I like people to send me beats and I’ll just listen through, but recently I’ve been working with producers like J White in person, which is cool. So my vibe is kind of changing; it’s a lot of energy. It feels like a party.
Doechii photographed on May 17, 2022 at Seret Studios in Brooklyn.
Hao Zeng
Is this the year you’ll release a full project?
I will. I said that last year, though, and I didn’t. Like, for real for real, I have to this year. It’s not even funny, I have to. It’s time for me to debut this year. My fans will kill me if I don’t.
This story will appear in the Feb. 25, 2023, issue of Billboard.
When asked if she remembers her first forays into producing, Rosalía giggles. “Oh, my God. I always felt that I wasn’t good enough, so I would treat it more like a game,” she says, before quickly adding, “Still, I wanted to learn how to make a beat because when the time came that I needed to do it, I would be able to do it.”
What started as a “game” inevitably became a way for the 30-year-old Spanish star to gain creative control — something she doesn’t take for granted considering the lack of women in the field. “There’s [still] skepticism about a woman being able to be an artist, singer, producer and songwriter at the same time. To me, these disciplines are not mutually exclusive.”
Like her previous albums (Los Ángeles and El Mal Querer), Rosalía’s Grammy-winning Motomami, released in 2022, thrives on the intersection of those skills. The sonically groundbreaking set — which finds her boldly fusing jazz and reggaetón (“Saoko”), as well as sampling Soulja Boy in an otherwise traditional bolero (“Delirio de Grandeza”) — is an honest expression of the creative freedom she felt as she drew inspiration from the sounds and artists that have shaped her. During the sessions, she would sit in the studio for 15 hours or more, searching for the right sounds, arrangements and structures for each song. “My homework as a producer is to follow my intuition,” she says firmly. “It’s to make decisions and take risks.”
Following in the footsteps of the artist-producers she read about when she was younger, like Björk and Missy Elliott, Billboard’s first-ever Women in Music Producer of the Year hopes to motivate a new generation of innovators.
What led you to first take on this role in the studio?
My first desire was to be onstage and share something. Then I realized that I wanted to decide what I was going to sing. I also wanted to decide what I was going to say and how it would sound. I didn’t just want to be an interpreter. I wanted to write, and then I wanted to produce. The desire to create became bigger than the desire to just interpret.
Is Motomami the freest you’ve ever felt as a producer?
One hundred percent yes. I was always thinking: “How can I be freer?” Fear, or whatever the opposite of freedom is, is the biggest enemy for a creative. There was an urge to find the reason why I’m doing this. “What is the world all about? What is life about?” All those things matter, and it’s why I make music.
What’s Rosalía the producer like in the studio?
I try to not have a specific idea of how a song must sound. Instead, I go in with concepts, or ilusiones, of how I would like it to sound. But never a rigid idea. That’s not organic, nor is it productive. Producing also requires humility because you’re constantly testing out ideas. I remember Pharrell [Williams] once told me that we’re just testing ideas from the universe because no one really owns an idea. I love that concept.
You’ve been very vocal about the lack of representation of women producers. Why is that important to you?
If you don’t see yourself represented in a role like this, how can you picture yourself working in that position? I became a songwriter and producer because I cared way too much. I did research when I was younger of women who were producing, and it was hard to find them, but they taught me that this was possible. Björk, Delia Derbyshire, Kate Bush — they’ve done this, and we don’t talk about it enough. I know I’m not the only one because there’s a new generation of women producing like Caroline Polachek, PinkPantheress — there are literally so many. It would be great if more people knew about them outside of the industry.
This story will appear in the Feb. 25, 2023, issue of Billboard.
It’s 9:15 a.m. in Seoul, and most of the nine members of TWICE have just woken up. They’re barefaced, dressed casually and cozily in warm knits and sweatshirts; Chaeyoung still wears her parka hood, her blonde hair peeking out of the bottom. Nayeon, seated next to her, cleans her glasses with her shirt sleeve. Tzuyu, however, is alert and attentive. When I ask (through a translator) who’s the early riser of the group, everyone points to her.
This morning, the women of TWICE look more like students who’ve arrived at an early-morning class than the wildly popular K-pop girl group they are. But for their globe-spanning cohort of fans (known as ONCE), this is a familiar sight. The group’s long-running YouTube reality and vlog show, TWICE TV, along with other online vlog content, have gone behind the scenes with the act since its 2015 debut. Over the past seven-plus years, fans have followed along as Nayeon, Jeongyeon, Momo, Sana, Jihyo, Mina, Dahyun, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu (who range in age from 23 to 27) have recorded music; toured across South Korea and Asia; attended award ceremonies; debuted their first-ever English-language single, “The Feels”; and, last year, played and sold out U.S. arenas, a still-rare feat for K-pop artists.
“That was our first time having a concert of that scale, so it was really shocking for us to see so many fans in the U.S.,” says Jihyo, recalling TWICE’s two nights in May 2022 at Los Angeles’ Banc of California Stadium.
Nayeon
Sunhye Shin
Jeongyeon
Sunhye Shin
“At that time in Korea, we couldn’t perform in the same way as in the U.S.,” adds Chaeyoung, referring to South Korea’s stringent COVID-19 restrictions. “So it was really refreshing to see the fans face to face in the U.S.”
Only a few of TWICE’s members speak English, but their fans’ raging devotion has long dispelled any questions about the group’s ability to successfully cross over. TWICE crafted a strong foundational identity early on with technicolor, rush-inducing pop exemplified by hits like 2018’s “What Is Love?” and 2019’s “Fancy.” More recently, it has expanded its sonic palette. Last year, “The Feels,” a groovy, disco-inflected song about a budding crush, became the group’s first entry on the Billboard Hot 100 (peaking at No. 83). Its subsequent album, Formula of Love: O+T =
The September day that Becky G learned she had scored her first No. 1 as a solo artist on Billboard’s Latin Airplay chart, with “Bailé Con Mi Ex,” she woke up her fiancé, the soccer star Sebastian Lletget, with tears in her eyes. “He was like, ‘Is everything OK? Why are you crying?’ ” she remembers. “A lot of people like to say I’m only successful because of my collaborations. To be able to prove myself as an artist and carry my own weight was important for me. To show the world that whichever way, collaborations or alone, I’m good.”
That solo feat is just one of many points of pride for the 25-year-old Mexican American artist and businesswoman, born Rebbeca Marie Gomez, these days. In 2022, she earned her first No. 1 on the Latin Pop Albums chart with the 14-track Esquemas, and another album — her first regional Mexican set — is due to arrive later this year. Come April, she’ll have “a huge opportunity to reintroduce myself to the world” when she plays Coachella under her own name for the first time.
Jean Paul Gaultier top, AKIRA jacket, Versace shorts, Giuseppe Zanotti shoes, Moschino earrings, Grace Lee and Yvonne Léon rings.
Martha Galvan
All the while, Becky G has used her platform to help elevate the women around her. “This industry has really tried to condition women to see each other as competition. We’ve had to survive these very male-dominated spaces because of that ‘there’s only one seat at the table’ mentality. So we’re looking at each other like, ‘Who’s going to get it?’ [But] at my table, everyone is welcome,” she says firmly. “When I open the door, I’m going to leave it open and make sure everyone gets in.”
That impulse, she says, comes from her experience growing up in a tight-knit community in Inglewood, Calif., where her grandmother would cook for her grandchildren and, “If Doña Lolita from down the street came over, she would have enough [food] for her kids too,” says Becky G. “My entire being has been inspired by the houses I grew up in, the people that raised me. It really does take a village when it comes to our culture. Where one person eats, everyone can eat. I’ve really lived by ‘sharing is caring.’ ”
Monot dress, Giuseppe Zanotti shoes, Eéera earrings, Vera Belleza ring.
Martha Galvan
And this year’s Impact honoree applies that kind of thinking not only within the music industry but beyond it, including as a co-chair of Michelle Obama’s voter registration nonprofit, When We All Vote. “I want to be a bridge-maker. I want to be a peacemaker,” Becky G says. “I want to be a real model, not a role model, because I know perfection is not real.”
How have you used your position to create change around you?
It’s not about what you identify as but who you are and how you treat other people and the change you want to make after you become the change. Someone told me the other day, “This contract looks like industry standard,” and I really challenged them. I said, “To be honest, that’s offensive because industry standard wasn’t made with people like me in mind.” It wasn’t made for young, brown women who are Latinas; who identify as a boss; who have ideas; who speak two languages. It’s about time that the industry starts to reflect that. And not just in how we’re represented but how we’re treated, how we’re paid, how we’re invited into those spaces. Changing those things is hard and I can’t do that alone, so I’m grateful I’ve had the opportunity to collaborate with so many women.
Marine Serre top and pants, Al Zain necklaces, Rainbow K, Yvonne Leon and Grace Lee rings.
Martha Galvan
Which artist made you believe you could have an impact outside of music?
Selena. She was more than just a pretty face. She was a kind person, a good person, and that heart she had for people translated not just into her artistry but how she loved her fans. Being Tex-Mex, speaking Spanglish, someone who took over genres that were very male-dominated, she inspired other people.
How have you chosen which issues matter to you most?
It’s hard to think about being one person and saving the world, but when you think about being one person and making just a small impact in your community, it feels a lot more achievable. There are a lot of trailblazers coming into these spaces, and it’s important to create alliances.
Jean Paul Gaultier top, AKIRA jacket, Versace shorts, Giuseppe Zanotti shoes, Moschino earrings, Grace Lee and Yvonne Léon rings.
Martha Galvan
What does receiving the Impact award mean to you?
There’s nothing more rewarding than knowing that you’re helping others and not expecting anything in return other than seeing people live in their truths, being inspired to be the change, live better lives because of whatever awareness I can bring. That, ultimately, is my version of success.
Miu Miu top, Area NY skirt, Wolford stockings, Marc Jacobs shoes, Grace Lee earrings.
Martha Galvan
This story originally appeared in the February 25, 2023, issue of Billboard.
By the time Lainey Wilson showcased for BMG Nashville staff in 2018, she was at a crossroads. She had already been in Nashville for over five years after leaving her small Louisiana hometown of Baskin and was struggling to fit in. Her heavily accented, twangy country vocals and Southern swagger weren’t in fashion as the genre leaned more toward pop, but her attempts to accommodate that style weren’t working either. So she doubled down on her tough-but-vulnerable authenticity. With that attitude, she sang, “She’s a soldier/When I hold her/Up in the air” in her defiant “Middle Finger.” “Take that, Nashville,” she thought.
Wilson, now 30, laughs when she remembers that time. “I just got to a certain point where I’d been in Nashville for so long [and] my give-a-damn was a little busted. I felt like, ‘Why not just say what I want to say how I want to say it?’ That’s one of the thoughts that really set me free.”
Lainey Wilson photographed on December 1, 2022 at Eldorado Canyon in Nelson, Nev.
Sami Drasin
That fearlessness — and her robust, honest voice — captivated BMG Nashville president Jon Loba, who had been turned on to Wilson by another artist on his roster, Jimmie Allen.
“[She had] this absolute confidence. And it was an amazing vocal and, even at that time, amazing songs,” says Loba, who immediately signed her to Broken Bow Records. “But it was her narrative in between the music [where] you really got a sense of who she was: this strong woman from a small town in Louisiana who did not want to compromise who she was.”
Five years later, Wilson’s refusal to compromise has taken her to the top of the charts and awards show podiums. Her first album for the label, 2021’s Sayin’ What I’m Thinkin’, included her first No. 1 on Billboard’s Country Airplay chart, “Things a Man Oughta Know.” “Never Say Never,” her duet with Cole Swindell, reached No. 1 seven months later. Her current single, “Heart Like a Truck,” from last year’s Bell Bottom Country, and her feature on HARDY’s “wait in the truck” are racing toward the peak of the chart. With six nods, she led all nominees for November’s Country Music Association Awards, taking home new artist and female vocalist of the year. Between supporting slots for Luke Combs — she’ll appear on his stadium tour this spring and summer after opening his 2022 arena tour — she headlined her first large club tour.
Lainey Wilson photographed on December 1, 2022 at Eldorado Canyon in Nelson, Nev.
Sami Drasin
Along the way, Wilson, who co-wrote all but one of the songs on her two albums, developed a signature look — a wide-brim hat and bell bottoms, which she has worn daily for several years — as recognizable as her clear, strong vocals and striking songs. “When I was little, my mom bought me a blue leopard-print pair of bell bottoms I was absolutely obsessed with,” she says. “At one point, she was like, ‘You’ve got to take them off, we’ve got to wash them.’ I’ve always been in love with things that are throwbacks, whether it’s music or stories.” Wilson came by her love of bell bottoms honestly, but they’ve also served a purpose: “Trying to be an artist here in Nashville, a female artist specifically, you’ve got to figure out what you can do that’s a little different to stand out — so I definitely leaned into that as much as I possibly could.”
Not bad for an artist who got her start imitating someone else. Wilson worked her way through high school as a Hannah Montana impersonator. One of her last gigs, at St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital in Memphis, helped prompt her move to Nashville. While performing, she established an intense connection with a little girl recovering from brain surgery. “Everybody in the building was crying as she sang every word to [Miley Cyrus’] ‘The Climb.’ I handed her the microphone, and my Hannah Montana wig was hanging off sideways. She hands me back the microphone and what she meant to say was, ‘Hannah Montana, you’re my star,’ but she said, ‘Hannah Montana, I’m your star.’ And I was like, ‘Yes, you are,’ and I thought, ‘I’ve got to figure out how to do this the rest of my life.’ ”
Lainey Wilson photographed on December 1, 2022 at Eldorado Canyon in Nelson, Nev.
Sami Drasin
Wilson’s own climb has been simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting as she navigates how to make a lifelong career in music sustainable. The self-described “homebody” slept in her own bed only 15 nights during her “whirlwind” 2022. “Last year definitely threw me for a little bit of a loop,” she says. But as her ascent continues, this year’s Rulebreaker is finding ways to make the road feel more like home, including bringing her French bulldog, Hippie Mae (who, of course, has her own Instagram account, with a bio reading “owner of that b–ch @laineywilson”), on the road with her, as well as her essential oils, meditation apps and grounding mat.
Those comforts have proved especially key as Wilson’s rise has expanded beyond music. Yellowstone creator Taylor Sheridan designed a recurring role specifically for her this season on TV’s most popular show, which Wilson found the courage to take on after considering what some of her own favorite rule breakers, Reba McEntire and Dolly Parton, would do. (She even has a song on her first Broken Bow album called “WWDD,” short for “What Would Dolly Do.”)
“When it comes to Dolly and Reba, I feel like they really do listen to their heart. I feel like they’re not scared to go outside that box and do things that are a little scary,” she says. “I had never acted a day in my life. But I thought to myself, ‘Dolly and Reba, they’ve always made sure that their music is No. 1, but that has laid the foundation for so many opportunities to come their way.’ And so, if it’s a way for me to share more of my music with the world, even if it is a little scary, you’re dang right I’m going to do it, because that’s what they would do.”
Lainey Wilson photographed on December 1, 2022 at Eldorado Canyon in Nelson, Nev.
Sami Drasin
Wilson’s radio hits and Yellowstone role have brought her fame that she’s still wrapping her head around. Late last year, her team posted a video of her onstage with an angle that unintentionally highlighted her posterior and, she says, “The next thing you know, everybody’s TikToks are about my rear end.” The clip went viral and spawned imitators with women showing off their own bountiful booties, but it also invited legions of opinions about Wilson’s body.
“I definitely went down the rabbit hole reading comments,” she says. “A year-and-a-half ago, people didn’t give a rat’s ass to say something bad about me. Now the more well-known you are, the more negative comments you’re going to get … The reason why I take it so personal is because I do believe that words are powerful.”
Wilson is handling what newfound fame throws at her much as she has her career: with an authenticity that harks back to her roots, and on her own terms. She recently purchased 30 acres in Nashville and is renovating the house on the property, bringing in her own creature comforts to create a personal oasis. It’s a far cry from the camper she lived in for her first three years in Nashville. “I’m going to have some horses,” she says, adding that she decided against moving her childhood horse, Tex, up from Louisiana given his advanced age. “I want to be able to go somewhere and turn it all off and just jump on a four-wheeler.”
Lainey Wilson photographed on December 1, 2022 at Eldorado Canyon in Nelson, Nev.
Sami Drasin
This story will appear in the Feb. 25, 2023, issue of Billboard.
When Kim Petras emerged from beneath Sam Smith’s layered pink tulle gown on Saturday Night Live in January, it was a perfect visual metaphor for her presence on the Hot 100 chart-topper they were performing, “Unholy.” Cooing and belting about her virtues as a no-hassle, dirty-chic sugar baby, Petras was magnetic — the hit’s secret weapon, revealed.
Two weekends later, at the Grammy Awards, Petras had an even more definitive moment in the spotlight. “Unholy” won best pop duo/group performance, and, at Smith’s behest, Petras accepted the award, exuding joy and liberation in a speech that became a high point of the night. “I just want to thank all the incredible transgender legends before me who kicked these doors open for me so I could be here tonight,” said the German singer, who in that moment became the first out trans artist to ever win a major-category Grammy.
Nikita Karizma top and bottom, Laurel DeWitt wrist cuffs.
Vijat Mohindra
Changing the game has become habitual for the dance-pop devotee, who signed to Republic in summer 2021. In October, “Unholy” made Petras and Smith the first openly trans and nonbinary artists, respectively, to top the Hot 100 in its 65-year history. When Madonna introduced their performance of “Unholy” at the Grammys, thanking a new generation of “rebels out there, forging a new path and taking the heat for it,” it felt like both a coronation and vindication for Petras, who, since her 2017 arrival, has always carried herself like a main pop girl but has only recently started to be treated like one.
“My whole life revolves around strong, amazing women who do whatever they want and have an artistic point of view,” says this year’s Chartbreaker, casually vaping beneath a hoodie. “[They’re] the reason I found the power in myself to do what I do.”
JimmyPaul top and scarf.
Vijat Mohindra
Is the industry treating you differently since “Unholy” became a smash?
Hell yeah. [Before] it was like, “Oh, the gays love her,” but people didn’t want me on their songs. I didn’t get budgets approved. It was rough. I’ve been an independent artist for so long just hustling and playing clubs, and now different people are hitting me up to collaborate and get in the studio. It’s cool that people are catching on.
TikTok played a role in breaking “Unholy” before radio paid attention. What are your thoughts about the app?
I love the humor — nothing is so serious on there. I like that more weird songs blow up on TikTok than you would expect, like “Running Up That Hill.” The new generation just cares if they like the song. There’s less industry control because of TikTok.
Laurel DeWitt wrist cuffs.
Vijat Mohindra
This is your biggest hit, and first major one without Dr. Luke as a collaborator. People have questioned your working relationship with him. Do you see “Unholy” as a chance to move past it?
I’ve always been a songwriter. Anything I’ve done, I’ve been a big part of writing. I’ve always collaborated with different people and producers. Luke is the one person people like to pick out and be like, “This is obviously who has to write all of this girl’s music because she can’t be talented and that’s a big name.” But I am here because I’m good at writing, and I do my sh-t.
What was it like playing SNL with Sam?
It means the world to me. Even growing up in Germany, SNL was a huge thing. I’m a huge comedy fan, and I love Bowen [Yang] on the show. We’ve kind of become friends — there’s this really sweet story of Bowen listening to [my song] “I Don’t Want It at All” before his SNL audition.
Laurel DeWitt earrings, body chain, bra, and wrist cuffs.
Vijat Mohindra
In the last five years, how much has the industry changed its attitude toward trans artists?
A lot. When I tried to sign to [labels] in the beginning of my career, it was like, “What is the fan base going to be? How do we market this? There isn’t a place for you.” Then I went to gay clubs and built a solid fan base and showed everyone it’s possible. Now they have to accept it. I’m happy there are more trans artists now that are being taken seriously. I just don’t want to be the last.
Who are some of your career idols?
Cher. Nicki Minaj. Madonna. Lana Del Rey. Marina. Kylie [Minogue]. The list goes on. Women in pop music were my only friends in high school — they were everything I wanted to be and [gave me] the strength I [needed] to transition and live my life authentically. They gave me the strength to be myself.
Kim Petras photographed by Vijat Mohindra on Dec. 19, 2022 at Locus One Studio in Los Angeles. Laurel DeWitt wrist cuffs, JimmyPaul boa.
This story will appear in the Feb. 25, 2023, issue of Billboard.