State Champ Radio Features
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Nearly three years ago, RAYE tweeted that her label situation left her not “wanting to get out of bed and feeling so alone.” Polydor, to which she signed in 2014, had blocked her from releasing any music unless her singles reached a certain level of commercial success. Last week (Mar. 2), the “Escapism” singer woke up, got out of bed, and took home six of her seven record-breaking nominations at the 2024 Brit Awards – and she did it all independently.
It’s now the Monday after the Brit Awards and RAYE is “recovering from a two-day hangover,” she tells Billboard over Google Meet. The acclaimed singer-songwriter understandably spent the weekend celebrating her six wins, including best new artist, best R&B act, songwriter of the year, song of the year (“Escapism,” with 070 Shake), artist of the year, and album of the year (My 21st Century Blues), which she cites as the victory that meant the most to her. “I was sobbing like a child!” she recounts.
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J. Erving, founder of Human Re Sources, the distribution company that helped usher RAYE into her current era of global pop stardom, lounges on a giant teddy bear chair behind her. It’s quite the picturesque scene for a Google Meets window. That teddy bear – and it truly is giant – was a gift from DJ Cuppy, a Nigerian DJ and producer, who sent it to RAYE following her split from Polydor. “When we were finishing vocals and stuff [for the album], I was on that teddy bear!” says RAYE.
The album in question is, of course, My 21st Century Blues, an evocative tour de force of fearless songwriting and bombastic vocal performances. Over an expansive sonic palette that includes big band jazz, boom bap, gospel, dance and R&B, RAYE works her way through the trauma of sexual assault, body dysmorphia, drug abuse, her faith journey and general existentialism. It’s a truly kaleidoscopic record that stands as the stark antithesis to the messaging RAYE received from her old label – and to other labels that tried to strip her of her idiosyncratic artistic vision.
After splitting with Polydor in July 2021, RAYE signed with Human Re Sources, a subsidiary of The Orchard, a music and entertainment company with a focus on distribution. From there she and “the most supportive, beautiful team” properly launched a campaign for her debut LP that took her all the way to her historic night at the Brits. At the ceremony, RAYE performed a show-stealing medley of songs, including an orchestral rendition of “Prada” (a viral Cassö-produced rework of her 2021 D-Block Europe collaboration “Ferrari Horses”), U.K. chart-topper “Escapism” and the harrowing “Ice Cream Man,” a track that details her sexual assault at the hands of a music producer.
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A triumphant full-circle moment, that medley was something of a nirvana moment for RAYE — despite a truncated rehearsal period, given that she had just wrapped a tour just days before the ceremony. “As soon as I sat on that piano, the was the first time the whole night I was actually at peace,” she says. “I’m so at home onstage… I just feel like this is where I’m meant to be.”
To feel at home on the Brit Awards stage, however, RAYE first had to find a home in a new partner on her journey as a newly independent artist. “RAYE’s been the captain of the ship,” explains Erving. “The first time I heard this album was exactly the album that was put out. Our job was to get out of RAYE’s way and just be as supportive as we could. We can be very nimble and move quickly when something catches a spark, but there is no blueprint for what RAYE’s doing right now.”
This artist-forward approach to building not just a successful album era, but also a devoted fan base and solidified career, is what allowed RAYE to sustain the momentum of “Escapism” for an entire calendar year. After gaining traction on TikTok in late 2022, “Escapism” became the first U.K. No. 1 song for both her and 070 Shake by the following January. My 21st Century Blues arrived in its totality the next month (Feb. 3, 2023), reaching No. 2 on the U.K. albums chart. It’s fitting that “Escapism” was the impetus behind RAYE’s incredible growth over the past few years; the nocturnal electro-pop/hip-hop hybrid thrilled audiences with its unflinching look at escaping reality and heartbreak through meaningless sex, partying and drugs – exactly the kind of RAYE record that traditional record labels were wary of.
“Literally not one other place that we went to and played the music were okay with the songs as they were,” explains RAYE. “The running consensus was, ‘Oh, we like RAYE, but she would need to go again.’ There was all this talk of, ‘We want to decide, we want to control, we want to A&R,’ and I’ve now got to a place where I’m finally independent and don’t have to hand it all away again. That’s not happening.”
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At Human Re Sources, Erving helped assemble a team and strategy for RAYE and My 21st Century Blues that was as reactive as it was laissez-faire. “This is soul food: It takes a little bit longer to cook and it’s way more satisfying than microwave food,” posits Erving. “[These are] revelations that continue to happen every day, where people are understanding that RAYE is bigger than any one particular song. The amount of shows and support shows and intimate rooms she’s done, building a real audience and a real fanbase. All that matters is [drawing in] people who listen and listen properly.”
Instead of trying to plan or predict what songs would be the right ones to throw their full promotional strength behind, RAYE and her team simply let the music connect with listeners and responded to what they were responding to. For example, after performing “Prada” on piano while playing some shows in the U.S., RAYE released an official acoustic version of the song on streaming platforms, which, in turn, spawned its own TikTok trend. “Prada” eventually peaked at No. 2 in the U.K. and at No. 5 on Billboard’s Hot Dance/Electronic Songs chart.
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Other key promotional moves to maintain RAYE’s momentum included a near-constant flow of eye-popping music videos and rousing live performance clips, and a year packed with shows, including a headlining trek in support of Blues and opening slots on tours from SZA, Kali Uchis and Lewis Capaldi. Most recently, RAYE launched My 21st Century Symphony (Sept. 26, 2023), a live concert filmed at London’s Royal Albert Hall alongside the Heritage Orchestra and the Flames Collective (which aired on BBC and spawned an accompanying live album).
“The only thing that we were able to plan or have any control over was the art,” says RAYE of her approach to promotion. “We are in a weird, beautiful time in which you can’t plan [what’s] going to be ‘the big one.’ I’ve been doing shows, doing support gigs, doing promo, doing the social stuff. At the end of the day, give the art as best as a chance as possible at reaching the most ears.”
At Human Re Sources, RAYE found a partner with the same outlook in Erving. Having founded a company that helped launch the carers of marquee independent artists like Brent Faiyaz and Pink Sweat$, Erving was able to foster something more than just a distribution company.
“When we met with J, the one thing that was different to everyone else was that he actually liked the music. He said ‘I believe in you,’” recalls RAYE. “[Human Re Sources] is the only option that makes sense. This is the only place where I don’t have to worry about someone else trying to lead me or steer me or tell me what to do.”
In addition to feeling heard and respected as a person, artist, and visionary at Human Re Sources, RAYE also secured herself a deal from which she could see legitimate financial returns from hit records – something that has unfairly been a privilege for most artists instead of a right. With an increasing number of artists deciding to sell the rights to their music, RAYE’s success with her Human Re Sources partnership signals a different path forward for artists. According to Erving, RAYE now has a catalog that she will own and continue to make money from in perpetuity. It’s a material addition to the legacy she showcased at the Brits when she brought her grandmother, Agatha Dawson-Amoah, onstage with her to accept her awards.
“Making actual money from your records! Do you know how nice that is?” RAYE exclaims. “We’re making money from our songs, not just the publishing or the writing side, actual hard sales. That’s been such a rewarding thing to see because that’s how it should be.”
With six Brits to her name now, RAYE has her sights set on the next phase of her career as a globe-conquering independent artist. She’s taken the next two weeks off to “take some time to process all that we’ve worked hard for” and to prepare to start writing again and “get in [her] producer bag.” She has a few performances coming up, including Saturday Night Live (Apr. 6), Coachella (Apr. 13 and 20) and Leeds Festival (Aug. 25), so she’s “just gonna keep going” because, after all, it’s all about momentum.
But if there’s any legacy RAYE hopes her historic Brit Awards night leaves, it’s that she – and all artists – should put being proud of their art over any outside achievements.
“I’m an artist who is obsessed with her music and her art,” she says. “If I’d been fortunate enough to have a night like I did at the Brits but not feel the way I did about my art, then what am I doing it for? Whether I had a night like that at the Brits and the two years that we did or we didn’t, I’d still feel the same about my Music. That’s what matters.”
On June 29, 2012, Nick Miller regained consciousness in a Boulder, Colo., hospital room. The day before, he’d overdosed on heroin, the final act of a 10-day drug binge. Coming to, he saw his mother and the sadness in her eyes. He was 21 years old and had been sober for 15 months after time in rehab and years of opiate addiction. He’d been doing so well.
But his mom had known something was off after her son had gone quiet over text and phone. She called a friend of his, insisting they go check on him while she packed a bag and booked the next flight to Denver. The friend found Miller unresponsive, thrust naloxone — the opioid overdose reversal medication — up his nose and dialed 911. If not for his mom’s sense that something was wrong, it’s unlikely that I’d be here in Miller’s house on this chilly February afternoon in Los Angeles to talk with him about his incredible success as electronic producer Illenium. It’s unlikely he’d be here at all.
Sitting in the cave-like home studio within his large and otherwise light-filled house, Miller, 33, dotes on his dogs — the regal Belgian Malinois Grace and a small but fierce blonde dachshund whose dedicated Instagram account has 23,000 followers and for whom the house’s Wi-Fi network, “Palace du Peanut,” is named — holding them in arms covered in sacred geometry and Eye of Sauron tattoos. He makes jokes and direct eye contact, speaks in ski-bum parlance (“fire,” “sick,” “chillin’ ”), endearingly giggles and generally comes off as a person worth rooting for.
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I ask Miller what he’d say to that hospital room version of himself, given everything that has happened since. His answer is immediate: “There’s no way I would have even believed the possibilities.”
Illenium plays Billboard Presents THE STAGE at SXSW on March 16. Get your tickets here.
As Illenium, Miller is one of the most successful electronic acts of the last half-decade, a dance music star in the fireworks and confetti tradition, but with a harder and more rock-oriented sound and sensibility than straightforward main-stage EDM. In a genre known more for talent-heavy festival bills than solo-show hard ticket sales, he’s one of only a handful of artists, like ODESZA and Kaskade, playing venues as massive as stadiums and arenas.
Still, it’s possible you’ve never heard of him. Illenium hasn’t yet had a solo crossover hit (“Takeaway,” his 2019 collaboration with The Chainsmokers and Lennon Stella, hit No. 69 on the Billboard Hot 100 and remains his highest-ranking single on the chart), and unlike some world-famous DJs, he doesn’t frequent fashion shows, post shirtless selfies or chase fame.
He calls himself “very much a homebody,” one who most enjoys staying in and working on music, playing video games and hanging out with his dogs and his wife, Lara. The two met at a festival and married last September in Aspen, Colo., not too far from their primary residence, a 23,000-square-foot estate in the Denver suburb of Cherry Hills. Miller says he only bought the L.A. house in 2021 because “I was spending so much money on hotels and studio spaces here that it made more financial sense.” He has left twice in the last six days, once for a meeting and the other time to play the second of his back-to-back headlining shows at SoFi Stadium.
Louis Vuitton shirt and Askyurself sweater.
Daniel Prakopcyk
These Trilogy performances — so named because they feature three separate Illenium sets over five hours — are the current crown jewel of the Illenium empire. Prior to the Feb. 2 and 3 shows in L.A. (where his team says fans bought $2 million in merchandise alone), last June’s Trilogy concert at Denver’s Mile High stadium grossed $3.9 million and sold 47,000 tickets. It happened amid a 26-date North American tour that sold 191,000 tickets and grossed $15.7 million, according to Billboard Boxscore. His fourth studio album, 2021’s Fallen Embers, earned a Grammy Award nomination for best dance/electronic album, an accomplishment that came months after the debut Trilogy show at Las Vegas’ Allegiant Stadium helped break the pandemic’s pause on live music.
With nearly 33,000 attendees, the July 3, 2021, performance, according to Boxscore, broke the record for the biggest dance music event for a single headliner in U.S. history. At the end of it, Miller told the roaring crowd that for him Trilogy represents “my transition from a f–king sh–ty life. That was my past. So it’s just f–king crazy, this. What the f–k? This is a f–king football stadium.”
Performing from a cryo-spitting tower of LEDs on the 50-yard line was not on Miller’s radar when he started releasing music in 2014. His work helped form the then-emerging future bass subgenre, which, like the bass music that influenced it, is huge and often heavy but also simultaneously soft — like getting hit in the head with a two-by-four wrapped in velvet. Future bass also incorporates more traditional verse/chorus song structures than much of the wilder bass made by Illenium’s influences and peers — Zeds Dead, Excision, SLANDER, Dabin, Said the Sky, Space Laces — and his work also heavily integrates rock, metal, indie and pop sounds. The Illenium oeuvre, developed over his five studio albums, is cinematic, anthemic, often heavy and typically lyrically personal music that mulls deeper themes — love, heartbreak, rage — than standard dance refrains about putting your f–king hands up.
“I’m sensitive,” Miller says, and “for sure” an emotional person. For him, writing music is a form of escape, release and healing, and he thinks listeners can feel the depths he’s pulling from: “A fan who’s going through something — when they listen to something personal, it just bonds in a different way.”
Des Pierrot vest, Jack John Jr. pants, Louis Vuitton shoes.
Daniel Prakopcyk
This bond is a key reason why fans not only love Illenium’s music, but often have devotional relationships with it. The audiences at his shows party and headbang — but there’s also a lot more crying at an Illenium concert than at most electronic sets.
His fusion of bass with traditional song structures has also fueled his broad appeal. UTA’s Guy Oldaker, his longtime agent, came up in the bass scene of Colorado — the genre’s spiritual U.S. home and a huge dance hub, with Denver effectively tied with Miami as the United States’ highest-indexing major market for electronic music streaming, according to Luminate. But Oldaker hadn’t figured out how to cross these artists over into major festivals and Las Vegas residencies, where he says crowds usually want “easily accessible pop music.”
When a promoter sent Oldaker demos by a local producer named Illenium in 2014, “I went, ‘Holy crap, this is exactly what I think will work with this audience in Vegas,’ ” Oldaker recalls. “I know very well how to build an artist in the scene where I’ve built everything else. I knew if I could connect the dots, we’d have a winner.”
Now, after the pandemic deflated his team’s plans for international expansion, Illenium is poised for the kind of global ubiquity Oldaker has long believed he could achieve — that is, if that’s even what he wants. “I go back-and-forth on if I’d rather be a famous world star DJ,” Miller says bluntly, “or just like, kind of be chillin’.”
When Oldaker first met him, Miller was sober — and also deep in the bass scene. He handed out show flyers as an intern for local promoter Global Dance, wrote for electronic music blogs, frequented Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Morrison and Aspen’s Belly Up Tavern and fell in love with the music and community he had found. He’d returned to rehab following his overdose and, afterward, started teaching himself music: playing piano, watching YouTube tutorials on music theory and making “like, ‘Wonderwall’ remixes and random crap, just to figure it out.”
Soon, the music blog dubstep.net voted one of his tracks the No. 1 song of the moment. “I was like, ‘Let’s f–king go,’ ” he recalls. He’d also started performing around Denver and in 2015 signed with Oldaker (then at Madison House Presents), who sent Illenium (his name references Star Wars’ Millenium Falcon) on the road as a support act for artists like Big Gigantic and Minnesota. After a show at the 500-capacity George’s Majestic Lounge in Fayetteville, Ark., attendees bought out the venue for a second night so Illenium could play again. “And that sold out,” Oldaker says. “These were small-market shows by someone no one had ever heard of who was getting 250 bucks to open for another artist, and all of a sudden he’s blowing out some room in Arkansas.”
Miller and his team — which by this time included manager Ha Hau (also the founder of Global Dance) and touring manager Sean Flynn, whom he’d met in recovery — started putting up headline shows at smaller clubs. They decided he needed a signature “thing” and that it would be, Oldaker says, “putting so much production into these rooms that people walked out like, ‘I don’t know what I just saw.’ ”
For a 2015 set at Denver’s 650-capacity Bluebird Theater, Miller spent $10,000 on a custom metal phoenix, a symbol of his rise from addiction that has also appeared on his album covers and on the Illenium jerseys that are the de facto fan uniform at his shows. “On most of my tours, I’ve gone as far as I could with production by breaking even, or just slightly above,” he says. Flynn declines to give an exact price tag for Trilogy’s production, but says the shows are “really expensive.” They weren’t sure if they’d even turn a profit with the SoFi sets, but then “the second show crushed,” Miller says. “So we were chillin’.”
Daniel Prakopcyk
Streams, ticket sales and festival billings grew steadily as his profile rose, and his second album, 2017’s Awake, reached No. 106 on the Billboard 200. But Miller felt a disconnect. Fans didn’t know about the personal experiences making his songs so emotionally intense, a chasm that felt especially wide when they told him his music had helped them through hard times, like dealing with addiction.
“I’ve been wanting to share something super personal with you for a while,” Miller wrote in a letter posted to X (then Twitter) in August 2018, revealing his struggles with opiates and his overdose. “I was trapped in it, had no passion, no direction and truly hated myself… I’m just sharing my story and relating because music saved my life too.” The news came in tandem with the release of “Take You Down,” a huge, hypnotic song he wrote about his mother. “I couldn’t see that when I went to hell,” vocalist Tim James sings, “I was taking you with me.”
“Watching that relationship get torn by the sh-t you keep doing — at first, it’s like, ‘Why are you on me so much, I’m not even that bad,’ ” Miller reflects now. “Then it goes into ‘OK, I can’t stop’ and then it goes into, like, “F–k everyone. I can’t live without it.’ And then you’re just breaking down.”
Making this information public initially made him nervous “because I didn’t want to come off preachy. I love rave culture and people enjoying themselves and don’t want to be the person that’s like” — he shifts to a nerdy tone — “ ‘You guys are really f–king your lives up.’ ” But six years later, he thinks his fans appreciate knowing, “given all the music that has come out of it and that I did all of this sober.”
LEMAIRE jacket and Louis Vuitton shirt, pants and shoes.
Daniel Prakopcyk
In a realm not known for temperance, Miller says that Kaskade — one of the few sober dance artists — has been a role model who has shown him “you can do this and not be a party animal, because it’s hard. You see how insane people go and wonder if you’ll be accepted if you’re not partaking.”
But Miller is also uniquely suited to talk to fans about drugs. Last year, he partnered with L.A.-based nonprofit End Overdose, which distributes free naloxone and fentanyl test strips, provides training on how to respond to overdoses and is a partner of major dance music promoter Insomniac Events. He raised $50,000 for the organization through a fan donation matching campaign, became a certified End Overdose trainer, gave tutorials on administering naloxone on Instagram Live, provided trainings at stops on his last tour and gave contest winners an in-person demonstration at the Denver Trilogy show. Over 2,000 doses of naloxone have been distributed across these events; last September, one was used to resuscitate someone at a concert (not Illenium’s) in Kansas City, Mo. “We’ve literally saved lives together,” End Overdose communications officer Mike Giegerich says. “It’s beyond meaningful.”
Meanwhile, Miller has rather cleverly figured out a healthy (and productive) way to satisfy his own addictive impulses. “To have five hours to shape the night and do it all?” he says of the Trilogy shows. “That’s like, my psycho drug addictness. That sounds very fulfilling and, like, a sweet high for me.”
The five-hour Trilogy shows have also given Miller time to explore the direction he’ll pursue next. After his rock- and metal-focused 2023-self-titled album, which featured artists like Travis Barker and Avril Lavigne, the Trilogy sets inspired him to return to his electronic roots, and he’s working on “a lot” of new music. Collaborations with Tiësto (a Colorado neighbor Miller calls “the f–king man”), REZZ, Seven Lions, Mike Shinoda and others he’s not yet ready to name are forthcoming — not as an album, but as singles to be released throughout 2024.
Outside of scattered festival dates, he’s not touring this year, but Oldaker says, “World domination is where I think we go from here.” Flynn says the team “had a lot of steam” in Europe and Asia before the pandemic, and it’s now positioned to rebuild that momentum. American-style bass music has historically “had a hard time getting good traction” in Europe, Oldaker says, but he fervently believes Illenium could be the one to break it.
Miller’s own feelings are more mixed. He points out that his seven-date European tour last summer hit 2,000- to 3,000-capacity rooms and turned out “fire” crowds in cities like Brussels and Barcelona. He also acknowledges that the more minimal, less headbang-y European scene is “just so different,” Miller continues, “and I never bought into it. I’m not a partier. I like being home, and I don’t play that game of ‘meet this promoter so you can play their festival or club.’ I’m so not that person, and I think that has hurt me a bit in Europe.”
Still, he’d love to bring the full show abroad. He has growing fan bases in Asia (he did his first headlining show in India in February) and Australia, and his team is also eyeing expansion into Africa and Central and South America.
Meanwhile, North American demand hasn’t abated for the artist Oldaker calls “the underground monster you’ve never heard of who all of a sudden blows your mind.” Several stadiums have reached out about hosting a Trilogy show, and fans can see Illenium through September at his residency at the 2,100-capacity Zouk in Las Vegas, a club the team chose for its production capabilities. Having played Vegas since his days as an opener, Miller has learned “the game” of these shows: “taking yourself less seriously, just having fun and not trying to have a musical therapy session in a f–king Vegas club.”
Daniel Prakopcyk
While there are many goals still to reach — a crossover hit (his official remix of Taylor Swift’s “Anti-Hero” toed the line), major mainstream festival headlining slots, movie scores and, Oldaker says, “expanding what he’s doing so people understand he isn’t just a bass producer and can do all these other things” — the imminent strategy is simple: keep building “core events,” Oldaker says, like Trilogy and Illenium’s Ember Shores destination festival in Mexico, which held its second edition in December. “Yes, we want to headline all the major festivals, but we have a great thing going with Trilogy where we can create these incredible experiences for fans to come be a part of,” Oldaker explains. “We’ll continue building it and hope these bigger festivals see the value we’re creating.”
“There is no ceiling to cap the success that he is capable of,” adds Tom Corson, co-chairman/COO of Warner Records, which released Illenium. “Nick is a career artist who can be as big as he wants to be both within dance music and outside of the genre.”
While now in a period of relative downtime, the guy whose lexicon heavily favors “chillin’ ” doesn’t, actually, want to be entirely chill. His Colorado rhythm is to drink coffee, run the dogs, tend to Illenium business — a straightforward model of “merch and music and shows,” he says — then hit his home studio. He’s also remodeling a Denver warehouse into a recording space for himself and other artists, some of whom will likely appear on the label he’s putting together. When he’s really not working, he golfs, snowmobiles or hangs with his parents, sisters, nieces and nephews who, Oldaker says, “are always around him.”
“They’re so happy, full of joy,” Miller says of his family’s take on his achievements. “We have a beautiful life now.”
That family isn’t just his direct relations anymore, but the tens of thousands of screaming fans who love him — not only as an artist, but as a survivor: the kid in the hospital bed who was about to get up and make it all happen.
This story originally appeared in the March 9, 2024, issue of Billboard.
Samantha Poulter had her first child, a daughter named Genie, in October of 2022. In a way, the Australia-born, Berlin-based electronic music producer is about to again give birth. Due March 22 through Because Music, her debut album, Mother, is 11-tracks of cerebral, underground-leaning house music that contains elements of the many facets of femininity. The music is no doubt a product of Poulter’s transition into the album’s titular role.
“Since becoming a mother, I feel this overwhelming sense of womanhood and sisterhood,” she says. It makes sense then that her album is populated by female collaborators including Rochelle Jordan, whose velvet vocals are featured on the lush “Promises” and Miami-based singer MJ Nebreda, who brings an alluring heat to “Every lil.”
“If hearing the story about my transformation during motherhood inspires someone to look deep within themselves and think about how they want to grow and transform,” Poulter says of her vision for the project, “that will make this album successful to me.”
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Foundation
Samantha Poulter took piano lessons as a child but “didn’t like that formal type of training,” she says. Yet she dreamed of being a performer, taking inspiration from Michael Jackson and 1990s-era British pop star Peter Andre. She had a keen ear from a young age, too: “I’d be like, ‘I would do this differently,’ and have ideas about how music should sound without the training to communicate that or create it myself.” That changed when she started producing electronic music in her early 20s, weaving high school-era influences like Destiny’s Child and Aaliyah into her cerebral productions.
Discovery
Poulter and her husband, DJ-producer Tom McAlister, started producing electronic music together in 2016 when she “felt there was a lull” in what she was listening to. She asked him if they could “have a go at making something together that reflects what I want to hear,” and in 2019, she released her self-titled debut EP as Logic1000. It included “DJ Logic Please Forgive Me,” which Four Tet played in his 2019 Coachella set, instantly raising her profile. “That was a huge moment for me,” she recalls, “and it snowballed from there.” She was soon enlisted to officially remix Flume, Christine and the Queens, Major Lazer and Caribou, leading to her own Coachella set in 2022. Come March 22, Logic1000 will release her debut album, Mother, which was supported by a recent Boiler Room set filmed in Melbourne, Australia.
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Future
Now based in Berlin, Poulter gave birth to her daughter, Genie, in 2022. The experience of pregnancy and parenting deeply influenced the lush, intimate Mother. Poulter, who has always been candid about her mental health, found the early postpartum period challenging: “I was up and down and so hormonal, but also had this insane energy to achieve things and create this album,” she says. She ended up in a period of burnout, taking 10 months off touring, but feels prepared to dive back in. “Once I realized that this is actually my dream job, it gave me the drive, energy and courage to just do it,” she says, “but with that practical advice of it being on my own terms.”
A version of this story originally appeared in the March 9, 2024, issue of Billboard.
In the 15 years since K-pop’s early international pioneers BoA and the Wonder Girls made their respective marks on the Billboard 200 and Billboard Hot 100 charts back in 2009, the Korean pop industry has made significant strides on the Billboard charts — and never has its crossover success been more apparent than now.
In 2023 alone, 35 different K-pop albums entered the Billboard 200, and five took the No. 1 spot. TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION hit the top spot in February, Stray Kids’ 5-STAR reigned for a week in June, NewJeans’ Get Up took over in August, Stray Kids scored a second No. 1 this year with ROCK-STAR in November, before ATEEZ snagged their first chart-topper with The World EP.Fin: Will in December.
Over on the Hot 100, Jimin of BTS opened a new chapter of K-pop history when he became the first South Korean solo artist to hit No. 1 on the chart with his solo single “Like Crazy.” His bandmate Jung Kook followed soon after when “Seven” (featuring Latto) debuted atop the Hot 100 and set the stage for the star to set a new record with three top five solo hits so far. Elsewhere, artists like BIGBANG’s Taeyang, NewJeans, FIFTY FIFTY, Stray Kids and Jennie of BLACKPINK all earned their first Hot 100 entries, while TWICE and BTS members J-Hope, Agust D and V all added additional entries to their Hot 100 collections.
Of course, many artists also spent time connecting with their global fans, thanks to massive tours across the globe. Acts like SEVENTEEN, ENHYPEN, NCT, TWICE, aespa, LE SSERAFIM, (G)I-DLE, ITZY, Agust D and more played the largest venues of their career, further displaying K-pop’s impact on the live market.
Ahead of the launch of Billboard Korea — with a kick-off event in Seoul set for May, where the artists on this list will be invited as the guests of honor, and the first issue, Billboard K Vol.1, scheduled for release in June — we’ve compiled the inaugural Billboard K-Pop Artist 100 list, with rankings based on activity on the Billboard 200 albums chart, Billboard Hot 100 songs chart and Billboard Boxscore (touring) data for the charts dated Jan. 7, 2023, through Dec. 30, 2023. (In most cases, group members are listed together, except for where notable solo activity separates the artists.)
Find our full 2024 list below:
Yuna (ITZY)
Image Credit: JYP Entertainment
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HipHopWired sat down and talked with the director and star of the Paramount Plus documentary As We Speak: Rap Music On Trial.
One of the more pressing situations affecting Hip-Hop culture and the communities who love it is the persistent weaponization of rap lyrics in criminal cases throughout the United States and abroad. The most vivid example is the current RICO trial being brought against Young Thug by Fulton County prosecutors in Georgia. Sadly, the general public is still unaware of the scale of these actions by the criminal justice system and its effects – to date, 700 trials have used rap lyrics as evidence since 1990.
Source: Paramount+ / Paramount+
A new documentary, As We Speak: Rap Music on Trial is shining an intense light on how much law enforcement has used rap lyrics to gain convictions in criminal cases. The documentary, which will air on Paramount Plus, is directed and produced by J.M. Harper ((jeen-yuhs: A Kanye Trilogy, Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma). As We Speak is filmed through the perspective of Kemba, a talented MC from the Bronx who is our narrator as he talks with various artists such as Killer Mike, Mac Phipps, Glasses Malone, and attorneys like MSNBC’s Ari Melber across the U.S. and in the United Kingdom about their perspectives in unique ways – even kicking off the film by acquiring a two-way pager to keep his communication private. HipHopWired got the chance to speak exclusively with Harper and Kemba about the film and its message.
HipHopWired: J.M., what was the artistic spark for doing this project? Was it always your intent to get the point of view from somebody who rhymes like Kemba as the main narrator for the project?
J.M. Harper: Really, what we’ve seen with the Young Thug trial especially is, that most of the time this issue is talked about in the national news, and the artist in question is always silent. You don’t hear that they’re told to be silent, they’re made to be silent. And so that was the most obvious entry point for me, was that you could tell the story from the artist’s perspective, and there was just probably something new and interesting to learn there. And something true to learn that that wasn’t being told to us through the D.A. or the prosecutors, or even the news media that was covering it. I knew that Kemba could tell that story with nuance and perspective and do it the way that I had seen some of the great black minds of our time – the great minds of our time, period – but certainly the great black minds of our time who could take something, an issue that seemed one way at first blush, and really articulate it in a way that reached everybody, no matter where you come from. That’s why I thought of Kimba. And I think that’s what he does in the film.
HHW: So Kemba, with doing this film and connecting with some of the other artists that have been under duress, unfortunately, like Mac Phipps – how was it for you to gain more insight into their experiences in talking with them for the film?
Kemba: It was a lot of emotions. Mac Phipps, I have so much respect for, just because he wasn’t upset. He wasn’t bitter. I would definitely be. He just had such an excitement for the rest of his life. You know, in hearing the story…it made me upset. I see why people don’t have faith in the justice system. How somebody could lose 30 years of their life, even when somebody confesses to the crime they get convicted for. How somebody could have their lives twisted against them, a line from this song, a line from that song. It was really unbelievable to hear. And we heard the experiences of a few different people like that, that their art forms are being taken away from them or being used against them. Yeah, it was eye-opening.
HHW: We get a chance in the film to connect with different artists from cities across the globe. What were the most memorable experiences in filming those segments for you both?
Harper: For me, it was Chicago. Just being able to talk to some of the first drill rappers, period. The way that they, 10 or 15 years on, talked about their experience with the labels. Getting 100 grand from a label to talk about what was happening around you. I didn’t know that Chi-raq, Drillinois was a term – I didn’t know about the Driilinois terminology, that it came from the first drill producer. And that term was used on CNN every night around that time. The origin stories of the music, and the complexities there that just hadn’t been spoken about and hadn’t been amplified. I’m sure they were being spoken about, but not until we were able to capture it within this whole context of black history. Could it be sort of put into a context that applies to what’s happening right now in courtrooms? That was one of the most compelling moments of it, every city presented something new. But for me, Chicago was special for that reason.
Kemba: Yeah, I agree about Chicago. I will say Atlanta, just speaking to Killer Mike. And he has a wealth of knowledge. But also, just learning about this. So the history, just to look how far back all this goes, like art being sort of not seen or not considered. Not respected as art. Back from rock and roll to Blues to jazz, back to Negro spirituals, and how this is just the sort of newest iteration of that. That was super surprising to me.
HHW: This is going to be my last question, kind of a little bit on the fun side. Whose idea was it to kick everything off with getting the two-way pager?
Harper: (laughs) So when I was cutting the Kanye jeen-yuhs documentary, which is mostly set in the late 90s, early 2000s, Kanye would always be like writing in the two-way. Two-way this, two-way that. Then I saw that it was all over the place in the music videos around that time and the Hip-Hop community had really embraced a two-way for its short life in between the invention of the pager and the cell phone texting. That became a really interesting starting-off point and then bringing it into the pawn shop was great. Those guys speaking in patois, I didn’t even ask them to talk like that. They asked, “can we say something?” I was like, “yeah” and they just started going off. It was just really organic. This little piece of Hip-Hop history was a perfect vessel for Kemba to be writing and communicating with, thinking that he was off the grid. So, that’s where it came from.
As We Speak: Rap Music On Trial airs on Paramount Plus on February 27.
02/22/2024
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Source: Fadi Kheir / Courtesy of Carnegie Hall
It’s the eve of Valentine’s Day on a snow-melting New York City evening. Black couples draped in their finest $5,000-a-plate fur-cloaked gala attire wandered around a half-filled Carnegie Hall auditorium, seeking and finding a place to purchase cocktails in the the Sanford I. Weill Cafe.
Source: Fadi Kheir / Courtesy of Carnegie Hall
Among the aforementioned are business casual and informally dressed attendees, some even in snow boots and leisurewear. They all learned about the Power Network’s “A Black History Month Conversation and Celebration.” Its purpose was to unite a niche audience commemorating Black excellence with decorated professionals, followed by an exhilarating mini-concert by Rick Ross hosted by legendary radio personality, Ed Lover.
Event organizers Lew Tucker and Terry Ross invited an impressive selection of renowned guest speakers and panelists tasked to discuss tangible ways technology, artificial intelligence and politics can leapfrog an encumbered community out of multi-generational poverty. Each subject matter expert offered their brand of solutions – voting, equity ownership and advanced education were at the top of the list for the most part. However, some conversations had such galvanizing perspectives, making the call to action a revolution worth exploring.
In the first panel of the night, moderator and Vibranium Central Foundation executive Derek Ferguson kicked off the discussion with a malfunctioned video clip of the late Nipsey Hussle discussing the distrust in cryptocurrencies in Black communities and his desire to remediate it with technology. Megan Holston-Alexander, a partner at Andreessen Horowitz heading the Cultural Leadership Fund in Silicon Valley, discussed how the power of equity ownership in tech is a fast track to bridging the wage gap if investors are strategic enough to secure it.
An easy way to bypass an often impenetrable venture capital fund is through “employment-ship,” as she describes. Candidates would seek employment at a budding tech start-up and secure company stock through a compensation package, which can instantly become worth millions if a larger company acquires the business or goes public on the stock market. It’s extended gameplay but has given professionals an expedited pathway toward real wealth.
Ron Busby Sr., a business executive at U.S. Black Chambers Inc., reminded the audience how the government glosses over Black issues by enveloping other ethnicities into federal funding under the umbrella term “minority,” which he claims has served white women the most at an astounding 78% of the budget. If Black enterprises certify their businesses on byblack.us as Black-owned businesses, they actively create a demand for federal dollars explicitly earmarked for Black business owners. Additionally, using acquisitions by becoming a 51% owner of small companies would help expand their businesses and aid them in gaining larger contracts that are otherwise inaccessible to small businesses.
Source: Fadi Kheir / Courtesy of Carnegie Hall
The second act of the event was a pleasant pivot into political activism with Maryland Gov. Wes Moore, moderated by Earn Your Leisure founders Rashad Bilal and Troy Millings.
Moore’s decorated life story is one for the books. The former Robin Hood CEO, who once managed to distribute $600 million towards impoverished families before taking his talents into politics in 2023, won his first elected seat into office on the first try.
His new career starts without deep political ties, which historically has muddled the landscape along with backroom deals and false promises to its constituents. Instead, Moore’s business-minded approach focuses on demolishing generational poverty in the Black community through policy.
From his perspective, gaining access to the state budget has given him a unique understanding of how deliberate policy-driven racism has strategically pigeonholed Black Americans into disenfranchisement.
Source: Fadi Kheir / Courtesy of Carnegie Hall
Billionaire Robert F. Smith, who also serves as Carnegie Hall’s chairman, joined the governor’s conversation with HarbourView CEO Sherrese Clarke Soares. The refreshed panel closed out the final segment of the evening. Both executives spoke in depth about the impact technology and AI will have on the future of Black families in America.
Smith highlighted the underrepresentation of Black professionals in tech and the dangers it threatens as AI amalgamates itself into corporate America. Eventually, executives will rely on automation software to eliminate an already fragile workforce paranoid about employment stability. Those positions are mainly held by Black Americans at a disturbing rate, fueling the conversation about the widening wealth gap. Smith believes the digital revolution can quantum leap the community into generational wealth and advancement, a theory solely based on the historic inventions created from thwarted access to essential resources through systemic racism.
Soares introduced the creator economy throughout entertainment and media verticals, declaring that audience and consumerism dictate new lanes of opportunity. Content is king here; there’s an opportunity to gain wealth through premier intellectual property investment. As AI continues to disrupt the bottlenecking strategies traditionally used to generate revenue streams at the expense of undervalued creators, global investment firms like HarborView will invest millions into an artist’s publishing catalog, for example. Jeremih recently partnered with Soares’s firm to sell published and recorded assets from the “Birthday Sex” singer for an undisclosed amount—monumental deals like these open avenues for wealth development in film, TV and sports for creators. As Black communities have dictated the pulse of popular culture throughout documented history, it’s remarkable to imagine the untapped market this will uncover as creators define the value of their artistic collections.
Pleasantly, each panelist left a tangible blueprint with accessible methods for average citizens to advance themselves toward generational wealth. If Black Americans play their hand right, technology and AI can dismount the longstanding systemic gatekeeping that has stagnated disenfranchised families for centuries and finally catapult folks out of poverty.
Source: Fadi Kheir / Courtesy of Carnegie Hall
The auditorium erupted in electric applause after statements closed, interlocking the audience with a contagious wave of empowerment. Anyone can be a big boss if they conquer their impostor syndrome. And cleverly, Rick Ross’ mini-concert with a live orchestra cemented the moment most perfectly.
The mini-concert began with “I’m A Boss,” harmoniously synchronized with the talented Revive Big Band, blowing their horns simultaneously with the recorded track as a projector displayed a montage of visuals of the famous rapper. While the intro played out, a white fur coat-wearing Rozay strolled onto the stage to take in the crowd before picking up his microphone to belt out his verse. The “All I Do Is Win” chorus then transitioned to “I’m On One.” The fur coat didn’t last five minutes on the chubby Wing Stop franchisee before being removed for the rest of the song’s performance.
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While the “Hustlin’” intro played, the Biggest Boss poured a glass of Luc Belaire Rare Rose into a champagne flute from a table placed behind him and raised it towards the crowd in the form of cheers before powering through half of the first verse. This formula went on throughout the show, using Maybach Music crowd favorites as transition markers into selected orchestra-assisted songs from Rick Ross’ vast catalog, including “Hustle Hard,” “Diced Pineapples,” “Aston Martin Music” and “Pop That.”
“B.M.F.“ is when the energy shifted on stage, causing him to belt, “I think I’m Big Meech, free Larry Hoover!” into the microphone with unfathomable conviction. He was finally loosening up.
In between song transitions, Renzel daps up band members as they catch their breath in time for the next song. They didn’t mind, as they were equally excited to interact with him, presumably forged by their mutual respect for the love of music.
“I’m Not A Star” and “Stay Schemin’” were played unassisted by the band through their discrete break, allowing fans to pick up the slack, screaming the lyrics word for word against the track.
The song that evangelized the crowd was DJ Khalid’s “God Did,” cueing the band to pick up their instruments to play along to the Grammy nominated song in a beautiful culmination of live notes. It was the perfect backdrop; Rick Ross used the time to crowd work. With his Luc Belaire-filled flute, he emphatically mouthed the song’s title intimately towards the fans sitting in the balconies overlooking the stage. It was strange but on par with the rapper’s animated personality. The moment was the perfect show closer to a fantastic setlist. Unencumbered by the exhausting 25-minute-long performance, Rozay took time to sign autographs and take pictures before disappearing backstage.
The night was long for a mid-week event, but it was worth the trip for what it offered. If using a Keith Lee rating system; 8 out of 10, which would jump to a 9.2 if there were some lemon pepper wings from Wing Stop on site.
Source: Hip-Hop Wired / iOne Digital
Project Pat is a Memphis Hip-Hop legend. As part of the seminal group Three 6 Mafia, the man born Patrick Earl Houston, who also happens to be the older brother of Juicy J, helped make sure that besides the East and West coasts, there was plenty to say and hear coming out of the middle of the map.
So Witness To History linking up with Pat was practically a requirement. The homie from WKYS, Aladdin Da Prince, held down the hosting duties and chopped it up with Pat for an insightful episode.
The odds of anyone making it into the NBA are slim to none. You have to be one of the world’s most skilled individuals to even dream about being drafted into the league — so when pro basketball players turn out to have additional talents on top of their sport, it’s almost not fair.
And yet, such is the case for Memphis Grizzlies teammates Brandon Clarke and Jaren Jackson Jr., who both release music under rap alter-egos, as well as the Denver Nuggets’ Zeke Nnaji, who just so happens to be a gifted pianist. These athletes are just three of several b-ballers with a penchant for the artform, carrying on an unofficial tradition of music in the NBA that’s lasted decades.
A 27-year-old Vancouver native, Clarke records music under the alias BCVS and dropped a pair of albums over the summer, the latter of which is a 14-track set titled Ride the Lightning. Jackson, 24, features on one of the LP’s songs, “How U Know?” under his stage name, Trip J. His newest album arrives Friday (Feb. 16), and he proudly tells Billboard that it’s his “best project to date.”
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Then there’s Nnaji, who’s been playing piano since he was first-grader. While his colleagues see music as a separate entity from their basketball careers, the 23-year-old power forward finds a surprising harmony between the two.
Ahead of 2024’s All-Star Weekend in Indianapolis, Billboard caught up with Clarke, Jackson and Nnaji about their musical pursuits off the court. See what they had to say below.
How long have you been a musician?
Brandon Clarke: I’ve been making music for about 2.5 years now. I got involved with it from just messing around in the studio with my teammate, Jaren [Jackson Jr.], a while back.
Jaren Jackson Jr.: I have been making music for over five years, but it all started in high school and college when I would rap with some of my friends and teammates. Early in my career in Memphis, I met one of my now producers who showed me the ins and outs of music engineering and how you can find your sound.
Zeke Nnaji: I’ve been playing piano since I was six years old. Growing up, I had a little toy piano I’d play a lot. My parents saw how much I enjoyed playing on that, so around the age of six, they enrolled me in piano lessons. From then on, I’ve been playing on my own and teaching myself new things.
How would you describe the music you make?
Brandon Clarke: The music is just me having fun and storytelling. I try not to take it too seriously, but it’s just fun to do.
Jaren Jackson Jr.: I would describe my music as effortless and authentic. It’s very versatile. You can listen to it while riding in the whip, walking around with your headphones in or at the house.
Zeke Nnaji: I like playing different genres of music, from ragtime to classical, jazz to modern music. I just like being able to hear a song, and if I enjoy that song, sit down and learn how to play it on piano. I do also compose some of my own music as well, I’ve been doing that since I was in fourth grade — it started off as little one-note songs here and there, and as I’ve gotten older, the songs become more complex and intricate.
How do you make time for music in your busy schedule as an athlete?
Brandon Clarke: It’s become something I love doing. It’s my No. 1 hobby outside of hoops. I have a studio inside of my house now, and I’m good friends with my engineer. I love to be able to find pockets of time to sit down and make a couple of songs. I listen to beats and write lyrics all the time on flights to and from cities we play in.
Jaren Jackson Jr.: When I first started making music, it used to take a lot longer. As I’ve developed in my career, I have gotten to a point where music feels effortless. Typically, it takes me around 15-30 minutes to make one song. I also find that I don’t have a ton of time on my hands during the NBA season. A lot of my work is done in the off-season.
Which artists are you most inspired by?
Brandon Clarke: Favorite musicians are Playboi Carti and Lil Uzi Vert, and they are definitely who I take inspiration from. I love the careless vibe of their music.
Jaren Jackson Jr.: Some of my favorite artists and influences in my career are Ken Carson, Baby Smoove, ICYTWAT and Midwxst. Living in Memphis defines a lot of my style and how I view making music. I’ve been fortunate to work with incredible artists that I have helped identify and put on, including Daicia, RAGEHARAJUKU and Fububanks.
What music goals do you have currently?
Brandon Clarke: I dropped a couple of albums in the summer, both just for fun! I don’t really care to advertise it much, the drop is just for me and the real locked-in fans, really. I’m currently not really working on any project, I’m just having fun discovering new sounds and seeing what I can create. Music-wise, I hope to just keep adding to my range of music I can make. I almost wanna start making some rock songs. I love rock, so that would be dope.
Jaren Jackson Jr.: Personally, I want to continue to find my sound and continue to get better in the space. I have learned so much in five years and know I will keep learning as time goes on. Aside from my personal goals, I also want all of my artists that I support to get record deals and awards and truly be the best they can be. The music industry is all about getting better and I want to continue growing with those who have been around me since day one.
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How, if at all, does your music overlap with your basketball career?
Brandon Clarke: For me, it’s just a great hobby. I try not to take it seriously like I take basketball, or else I start to lose the fun in it a little bit. I am my favorite artist really, so whenever I make new songs, it’s new music for me to bump.
Jaren Jackson Jr.: Making music is a huge stress reliever for me but also something I keep separate from my basketball career. I try not to let the two blend into one another.
Zeke Nnaji: Early on, I noticed a lot of correlations between practicing piano and playing basketball — the same dedication, the same practice that you have to put into your craft. The same hours of repetition you put on the keys to master a song can be applied to basketball when you’re trying to craft your shot. I noticed that the same kind of discipline I had on the piano, I could apply to basketball. It made both of them that much easier, being able to see how each helps the other.
The National Basketball Association is home to a few hundred athletes who are the best in the world at what they do. But many of those players have talents beyond shooting hoops, too — and several of these pro ballers nurture a passion for music off the court. For some, the artform is simply a […]
