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It takes just one star to become a household name, but a truly talented lineage to make for a powerful family legacy. Such is the case for many of music’s biggest names, who have not only passed down their talents to their kids, but invited their offspring into the studio to record collaborations before they’re […]
We just witnessed an unprecedented weekend in rap music, with five diss songs and a snippet keeping us away from our friends, our families, and (most importantly) our playoff games.
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Drake started things off on Friday night by dropping “Family Matters,” a 7:36-long collection of mini-songs accompanied by a video allegedly featuring the good kid, m.A.A.d city van being crushed — with Drake and his crew also apparently flashing both Pharrell’s (supposedly melted-down) jewelry and a new G-Unit spinner chain in the clip, because the Rap Game Sinister Six had him out here talkin’ like he’s 50. He also posted a snippet dissing Kenny and Rocky over the “Buried Alive Interlude” beat on his Instagram. Then, about a half hour later, Kendrick Lamar took things straight to hell (over creepy Alchemist production) on “Meet the Grahams.”
The next night, while we all tried to watch Anthony Edwards do his thing against the Nuggets with “Meet the Grahams” still marinating in our brains, the Compton rapper followed that diabolical entry in the feud with the DJ Mustard-assisted West Coast party anthem “Not Like Us.” We thought it may have been over after that, ‘cause Drizzy took a beat — but he got right back in the booth and responded with “The Heart Part 6” on Sunday night. As a rap fan I was excited, but as a rap journalist I was fighting the air like Tre in Boyz n the Hood. We’ve never experienced anything like this before.
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While we’ve seen artists go back and forth on wax throughout the years — there were the Roxanne Wars between Roxanne Shanté and U.T.F.O., MC Shan vs. KRS-One, Ice Cube vs N.W.A., Jay-Z vs. Nas, and Ja Rule vs. 50 Cent, to name just a handful of the most notable examples — they all mostly adhered to traditional album and single release schedules. What’s really made this battle different from previous ones is the speed at which two of the genre’s biggest and most important stars have responded to each other.
When this thing started, fans were getting antsy because Kendrick took over two weeks to respond to Drake’s “Push Ups.” Drake himself even got tired of waiting, following “Push Ups” with “Taylor Made Freestyle” a week later — to troll Lamar and try to peer-pressure him into finishing what he started with the verse heard ’round the world on “Like That.” This is something Drake himself has been through before: When Meek sent a tweet in 2015 about Drake allegedly using ghostwriters, the Canadian rapper responded with “Charged Up” on his Beats 1 OVO SOUND radio show about a week later. And when Meek didn’t respond to that, he dropped “Back to Back” on his head just a few days after and that was that. The Philly MC never fully recovered from that feud. An overlooked part of the Meek feud is that it set the social-media-era standard for how long rappers now have to respond to a diss record. Kendrick beat Drake at his own game.
Since Lamar released “Euphoria” about a week ago, he’s put out three records — including an immediately certified bop in “Not Like Us” — with speculation that there’s still more left in the chamber. Kendrick essentially told Drake and the rest of the rap world, “Don’t let me do it to you, dunny, because I’ll over do it.”
At first, there was a lot of talk about time limits and rappers being on the clock as the hip-hop community waited with bated breath for Kendrick to respond. Older fans, such as myself, wanted him to take his time. We were used to watching these things play out over months, if not years. But that’s the thing about the old days — they the old days. These are different times. I admit, even I wondered what was taking Kenny so long as the days went by before “euphoria” dropped out of thin air. Those weeks felt like an eternity. By contrast, Rick Ross wasted no time responding to the jabs directed at him in “Push Ups”: The Miami boss released “Champagne Moments” a couple of hours after the song “leaked” online. Nowadays, if you get dissed in a song, you better find a booth, open a laptop, and get to rapping ASAP. The mob will expect nothing less.
Speaking of the mob: Social media now plays a massive role in how these battles play out. With each release, Rap Twitter (and Instagram) was sent into a frenzy the likes of which we haven’t seen since the pre-COVID days. There have been many memorable moments on those godforsaken apps, but this past week was special. Jokes and analysis have been flying all over social media. Uma Thurman offered up her Kill Bill suit to Drake. Rick Ross was updating us between every diss, with an X user comparing him to a YouTube commercial. Diss records were being played during professional sporting events. The NBA on TNT crew played some during NBA Playoff broadcasts. “Not Like Us” was played as walk-up music at a Dodgers game. And Stephen A. Smith signed off First Take on Monday morning by telling them both to stop because it’s getting too personal.
No other genre has this power.
The more you listen to “The Heart Part 6,” the more Drake sounds defeated. He mentions his war jacket, rapping, “I am a war general, seasoned in preparation/ My jacket is covered in medals, honor and decoration” and ends the track with a rant saying Lamar would be a more worthy adversary if this whole thing were about facts, which in truth, rap beef has never really been about. If “Not Like Us” was “Ether” 2.0, then “The Heart Part 6” is essentially “Blueprint 3.” By the time the latter came around, Jay had already lost the battle to Nas — but they were still fighting the war, as the two continued to sub each other on various songs until they squashed the beef on stage in 2005 during Jay’s “I Declare War” tour.
It’s still too early for this beef to get squashed, and maybe it never totally will. This one got personal and very weird in the blink of an eye, the wounds are still fresh, the accusations still have a stench in the air. However, Drake vs. Kendrick will be remembered as the defining rap battle of the streaming era, and the most important one since Jay-Z and Nas went to war to kick off the new millennium.
Source: Hip-Hop Wired / HHW
In the latest installment of I Got Questions, Remy Ma and Fat Joe reminisce about their careers and collaborations.
The highly popular interview series I Got Questions returns with a conversation between veteran rappers Remy Ma and Fat Joe. The Bronx MC’s sat down and the convo immediately got entertaining as Remy asked Joe Crack if he remembered how they met. After relating the first encounter on the set of a Jennifer Lopez video where she arrived in the company of the late Big Pun, the “Conceited” rapper also made a surprising admission.
“So I’m shooting the video, she’s like ‘Hey.’ Pun is like, ‘This is Rem, that’s my artist’ and whatever. That’s the first time we met. And I’m like…’I don’t like him,” she said with a laugh.
“Wait, wait, so that was your initial response?” Fat Joe asked incredulously. “You was very nonchalant, like ‘How you doin’?’ So I’m like, ‘Okay,” Remy Ma responded. But Fat Joe’s recollection of the second time they met centered on them being in the studio, with him in awe of her lyrical flow. “So I’m looking at you like, ‘damn…I need her to be MY artist!’
Fat Joe also harkened back to the now-classic track “Lean Back,” playfully revealing that Remy Ma made it a point to fight to get on the track. “I saw an interview where M.O.P. said you bullied your way to get on ‘Ante Up,’ and you bullied your way to get on ‘Lean Back’!! Yo, why do you scare men?!” he joked.
Remy Ma then revealed that her appearance on the M.O.P. remix was due to Prodigy’s verse being taken off because of verbal jabs thrown at Jay-Z.
The conversation also touched on both MCs’ views on women rappers and the industry, and a lively discussion on each of the Bronx natives’ top five rappers. Fat Joe also reminisced on his and Remy Ma’s appearance at the BET Awards after both went through stints in jail and other issues, calling it “his proudest moment”
“We work, we make a hit. And here we are at the BET Awards, we’re about to perform…me and you grabbed each other’s hands and we’re like, ‘F—k, we’re back. Like all the way back.’”
Check out more from the latest episode of I Got Questions above.
Source: Hip-Hop Wired / HHW
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Kendrick Lamar has finally dropped his retort to Drake, and it’s a doozy. Called “Euphoria,” K. Dot went in on The Boy for over 6 minutes and seems to address just about every issue social media has been discussing ever since he dropped that verse on “Like That” and all the reactions it inspired (particularly “Push Ups”).
At 11:24am ET, Kendrick dropped a YouTube link with the worse “euphoria,” and heads have been analyzing the ensuing verbal beatdown ever since. The track opens on a cool jazz vibe with Kendrick using an almost spoken word delivery, saying, “Them super powers gettin’ neutralized, I can only watch in silence, Tthe famous actor we once knew is lookin’ paranoid, now it’s spiralling/You movin’ just like a degenerate, heavy antic, it’s feelin’ distasteful, why calculate you, not as calculated, I can even predict your angles.”
Alright then. Soon enough, K. Dot goes to a frantic flow loaded with barbs aimed at the 6 God’s dome. And there are plenty. Like, “I got a son to raise but I can see you don’t know nothing ’bout that.” Or, “When I see you stand by Sexyy Red, I believe you see two bad bitches, I believe you don’t like women, that’s real competition, you might pop ass with ’em.”
And if you really know, you caught the homage to DMX.
Listen to “Euphoria” below, and check out the reactions in the gallery. Yeah, Xitter is going to be talking about this one for days.
This story is developing.
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Steve Aoki is obsessed with numbers. It’s why the Grammy Award-nominated producer and mega-DJ has a seven-page rider specifying the exact weight and dimensions of the sheet cakes he hurls into the delirious crowds of fans who flock to his shows holding signs that say, “CAKE ME!” It’s why, despite an “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” tattoo on the back of his neck, he knows per one epigenetic measure that he has slowed his aging process down to 0.8 out of 1 thanks to a rigorous biohacking regimen that includes tracking how much REM sleep he’s getting on his WHOOP watch. And it’s why, when asked why he wants to live so long in the first place, he equates life to winning the lottery and quotes the statistical probability of simply being alive on this earth as 1 in 400 trillion.
But there is one number Aoki prefers not to know: the amount he’s getting paid per show. He worries that knowledge might subconsciously affect the energy he brings from one massive outdoor stage to another, that it might cloud the sacred union he feels between himself, the lucky lottery winner, and his fans, who tend to embody the rollicking frenzy of a punk show that Aoki has injected into electronic dance music (EDM).
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It’s a high that he says he has grown addicted to, which explains why he DJ’d 209 shows last year and holds the 2012 Guinness World Record for most traveled musician in one year, and (though they’ve since been broken) the 2014 records for longest crowd cheer and most glow sticks lit simultaneously. It’s fitting, then, that on this Wednesday evening in April, Aoki is Zooming with me from a lounge at the San Francisco International Airport as he prepares for a flight to Australia, where he’ll DJ five shows in 48 hours before headlining the Siam Songkran Music Festival in Bangkok. At 46 years old — or 36.8, if you take into account his 0.8 aging rate according to TruDiagnostic, an epigenetic testing company — Aoki has little interest in slowing down.
“I still have the thirst,” he says. “I still have the enthusiasm, and with music, there’s no greater energy force. There’s no greater high than playing your records at your show in front of a crowd that knows your music and everyone’s just f–king lit up. Like, there’s nothing greater than that.”
Whatever you might make of his persona as a fist-pumping, hair-shaking, Takis-munching, EDM-spinning, sheet cake-throwing party bro who seems to have perpetually lost his shirt, it’s hard to dispute that over the last two decades, Aoki has firmly established himself as a pioneering figure in the world of dance music. That he has done so globally and exuberantly — despite the reserved Asian American stereotypes he grew up absorbing — is a testament to his unabashed confidence, unrelenting work ethic and entrepreneurial instincts, which extend far beyond music.
For starters, there’s the all-electric race boat team he recently purchased to compete in the UIM E1 World Championship against competing owners Tom Brady and Rafael Nadal; the Hiroquest graphic novel he published in April with comic book legend Jim Krueger, about a genetically augmented meta-human who journeys into the multiverse 400 years into the future; and his various forays into science and tech, from investing in brain research through his Aoki Foundation to ventures in cryptocurrency, esports, non-fungible tokens and cryogenics. In 2022, Japanese billionaire Yusaku Maezawa selected Aoki as one of eight civilians to join his SpaceX moon trip, with a yet-to-be-determined launch date.
“There’s always a new thing every year, and the whole team kind of shrugs their shoulders like, ‘OK, let’s go learn how to do this,’ ” says Matt Colon, Aoki’s business manager of 20 years and the global president of music at talent management agency YMU.
“He embodies that spirit of innovation and entrepreneurship that is so inspiring,” says Paris Hilton, a friend of Aoki’s since she was 16 who released her first-ever collaboration with him late last year. “Every venture he takes on, he does it with a sense of style and purpose. He has turned his artistic vision into an empire, and that’s something that I deeply respect and connect with in my own business endeavors.”
Balenciaga hoodie and jacket.
Jessica Chou
Colon sees it as his job to foster his client’s excitement — even if he admits that roughly half of Aoki’s business ideas “get dismissed kind of out of hand because once you get into the details, they don’t really make sense.” Still, Colon notes that it was that out-of-the-box thinking that allowed Aoki to break into the industry in the first place, by way of Dim Mak Records, the Los Angeles-based label he founded in 1996.
In the early ’00s, Dim Mak became a tastemaker by signing acts like The Kills, Bloc Party and Gossip. But perhaps more significantly, Aoki became godfather of the scene that coalesced around Dim Mak Tuesdays, the indie sleaze Hollywood party he threw from 2003 to 2014 to promote the label. With then-rising acts like M.I.A., Lady Gaga, Kesha and Justice clamoring to perform and buzzy guests like the Olsen twins all enshrined by the famed nightlife blog The Cobrasnake, the party took on a life of its own.
Aoki only started DJ’ing to fill the time before performances at Dim Mak Tuesdays, and in the beginning, “he admittedly was not a great DJ,” Colon says. But Aoki attributes his success today to his willingness then to keep trying, to fail in public, sweat bullets and then ask for help. “I don’t have any kids, but if and when I do, that’s one of the most important things I want to share: You need to have that shamelessness,” he says. “It’s such an important rule of thumb.”
“He’s an early adopter,” Colon adds. “It’s in his blood, and it’s often because he doesn’t have the shame of being afraid to ask. Most people just wait until it’s offered to them. Steve will always ask.”
Despite his far-reaching business interests, Colon says DJ’ing remains Aoki’s primary revenue stream, both internationally and in Las Vegas, where he lives and maintains residencies at three venues. As a producer, he has proved agile at working deftly across genres, collaborating with everyone from Linkin Park and Hayley Kiyoko to Lil Jon and Diplo.
“When you’re on the road that much, you come across new people, new trends and new sounds,” Lil Jon says. “He’s just really easy to work with. He’s not overly pushy in the studio — he lets me do my thing but still has input. Neither of us half-ass anything.”
Versace shirt.
Jessica Chou
Aoki’s reach also spans continents, having worked with South Korea’s BTS, Mexico’s Danna Paola, Japan’s Kyary Pamyu Pamyu and Colombia’s Maluma. This hodgepodge has bolstered Aoki’s international appeal; he says his global fan base is particularly receptive in Central and South America.
He plans to release his ninth album this summer, featuring collaborations with Big Freedia, a rework of Lil Jon’s “Get Low” (called “Get Lower”) and a lead single with Ne-Yo called “Heavenly Hell” — a phrase he’s quick to point out inspired the title of a chapter he’s working on in the sequel to Hiroquest, which also happens to be the name of his last two albums that also spawned a line of trading cards meant to bolster his graphic novel’s intellectual property (IP) across platforms.
This is the way Aoki’s mind works — seemingly at its best when it has at least seven tabs open, all the better to connect the various dots that compose the Aokiverse. It’s an impulse he attributes to his father, Rocky Aoki, the wrestler turned powerboat racer turned founder of Japanese restaurant chain Benihana, who died in 2008 but remains Aoki’s North Star, a larger-than-life figure who seemingly did it all.
“He would just fly in like Superman, coming in to pick me up and take me on an adventure, and then drop me off [at] the humble abode of my mom’s house,” says Aoki, who was raised by his mother, Chizuru, whom he calls “my rock,” in Newport Beach, Calif. “So when I was with him, I just experienced all these things that he was doing. Like ‘Oh, my God. This life is crazy over there.’ ”
I was in college while you were coming up in the early aughts, and it felt kind of shocking to see someone who was Japanese American, like I am, take up so much space so aggressively in alternative culture. Were you thinking about ideas of representation back then?
I’m not going to go down memory lane too deep, but I remember when I first got into music in high school, the first thing I did was sing. You just didn’t see Asian singers. You just didn’t see Asian people in music, period, and if you did, they were really quiet, like the singer of Hoobastank, whom I looked up to. Actually, I am reworking [the Hoobastank song] “The Reason.” I guess we can announce it here: There’s a Steve Aoki-Hoobastank record coming soon. But it was cool to actually work with that guy [singer Doug Robb] because I remember looking up to him when I was in high school.
The other main artist I looked up to big time was Chad Hugo from The Neptunes. This is when I first got into production, around 2003. I was in L.A., and I remember hiring someone on Craigslist to teach me how to use Pro Tools because I just started dabbling on the computer. And I was like, “Chad Hugo, that’s my hero because he’s Asian, but he’s also quiet.” I’m always like, “Where are the loud ones?” I wanted to see someone Asian that’s just loud and in charge and commanding audiences.
Balenciaga hoodie, robe, jeans and shoes.
Jessica Chou
Did you become that character because you wanted to see it, or did that exuberance onstage come naturally to you?
One of the really important things that music gave me was a voice because I really, truly felt invisible. Growing up in Newport Beach, the statistic was 96% of the population is white — this is in the ’80s and ’90s. So I’m already kind of out there, I’m already different, and Asians, generally speaking, don’t rock the boat. Japanese people are quiet. My mom’s quiet.
Your dad wasn’t quiet.
No, he wasn’t, but I was raised by my mom. I mean, I’m sure I was inspired by my dad going, “Holy sh-t, my dad’s doing his thing and is successful, and it’s not bothering him that he’s Japanese, he’s just connecting with the world.” That is what I loved — the idea that it shouldn’t bother you.
But when I was a kid, I was bothered, and that’s where music gave me the voice. You could just belt your sh-t out. A lot of it was just understanding who I was, finding my identity through the music and allowing me to be unabashed about it. I grew up in the punk hardcore scene, and they thrive off that. It’s thriving off these underrepresented voices. That’s how the culture grows. So I was in the right place to foster this kind of attitude to be heard.
As someone who’s known for being a prolific collaborator, how do you connect with other artists? Do you still reach out to people?
It goes both ways for sure. In some cases, if we meet in person, the energy of that meetup ends up becoming something. When I met up with BTS in 2016 at a house in L.A., we just hit it off really well, and in 2017, I ended up remixing “MIC Drop,” which later led to [the BTS collaborations] “Waste It on Me” and “The Truth Untold.” But sometimes I just do cold DMs. I’ve always been very unabashed about that. Whoever I want to work with I just send a DM, and if it hits, it hits.
What’s your success rate?
I would say my success rate is pretty low. You know, of all the collabs I’ve done that are out, I’ve reached out to far greater [than have reached out to me], like 80%.
How does that make you feel?
It’s like a game of baseball. That’s how I see it. I don’t have a problem as long as I hit the ball and I get the home runs, you know? Like the best baseball player in the world hits the ball three out of 10 times. So if you hit the ball two out of 10 times, you’re actually above average. If you hit the ball once, you’ve made the cut. If I can make a record that’s meaningful to culture, meaningful to my fans, meaningful to what I’m doing, what my purpose is, then it’s worth it and I’m excited. I never lose my excitement on this stuff. I think that question would provoke a different answer if I was tired. If I was jaded. If I wasn’t really into what I do. When you love what you do, you still fight for it. You still have the hunger.
Balenciaga hoodie, jacket, pants and shoes.
Jessica Chou
What do you like about collaborating with such a wide range of artists? I think some producers would find that really challenging.
It is. It’s extremely challenging. It’s challenging on many different levels, too. It’s not just challenging on the creative side, but it’s challenging to your fans. Like whenever I started collaborating in a different space, I would get a lot of hate; I get a lot of criticism.
What’s an example?
When I started working with hip-hop artists in the early 2010s, there was a lot of negative criticism, even when I did Kolony, which was an entirely hip-hop album that I produced in 2017. You know, I’m a sensitive guy. I don’t like seeing negative sh-t just pile up.
Do record sales matter to you?
Honestly, no. In the beginning, it does matter, when you have your first hit, when you have something that’s just catching steam. But then, going back to your question about collaborating across different genres, I can’t think too much about what the world thinks. Of course, it’s incredible if I have a song that breaks 100 million streams on Spotify. That’s pretty f–king cool. But I can’t put my emotional place there. That would probably make me jaded. That would probably hinder my creative spirit, 100%. It’s more about, “How does it penetrate the culture? Do the fans at the festivals and the shows sing along? Are they connected to it?”
It sounds like the measurement for your success is more experiential than data-driven. How else do you gauge that?
Yeah, it is something that grows over time. You could sort of gauge it on some level of metrics, but then there’s a lot of other layers. You can’t just type in “What’s Steve Aoki’s biggest song on the festival circuit?” If you type that in, you might not get the correct answers. [Artificial intelligence] cannot generate that. For example, “No Beef” is an old song of mine that I made with Afrojack in 2011. That was before streaming was actually a big deal, but everyone knows the vocals to that at my shows.
As an artist, what are your thoughts on AI?
I’m still a novice in the usage or utility of AI, but I use it mainly for lyric generation. It has actually helped me quite a lot. If I have an idea of what lyrics I want to put down on a record, I’ll work that out with AI, and if I have a songwriting team in my house and we get stumped, we can always use AI. As far as sampling, I’ve used AI to get a particular female sound using certain words, and that has been fantastic.
What about the fear of it replacing producers and DJs entirely?
See, of course that’s the conversation topic because the possibilities are endless. But when that happens, I’m assuming, just like everything that we do with technology, we’re building safeguards. And you can’t stop AI. It’s not like, “Oh, f–k. AI is going to take away our jobs. F–k technology, it’s going to take away jobs.” You can’t. You just have to ride the wave with it and just start building safeguards as we go. We’ve been doing this the whole time with the internet.
Versace top, shirt, jeans, and shoes.
Jessica Chou
Let’s pivot to another serious topic: How does it feel to throw a sheet cake into someone’s face?
OK, there’s a lot of points here. One, I think it really goes along with this idea that people are singing your songs at your show and your music is their music. So we’re all part of the same culture. You’re partially responsible because you created that music and that experience. That’s what the cake is. I’ve been able to share an experience that was such a silly idea, and now it’s a thing. As a culture, people want to get caked, and it’s a very Steve Aoki thing.
How many years have you been doing it now?
Thirteen.
Wow. That’s a lot of cake.
Yeah, over 20,000 cake faces. It’s pretty epic.
How consciously are you aware of yourself, Steve Aoki, as a brand?
It’s interesting because when I see “Steve Aoki” on things or I see the logo, I look at it as a company. And I’m just part of that company.
You’re just another worker?
(Laughs.) I mean, really. It’s like, “Oh, my God. There’s a person with a Steve logo or a tattoo on his arm.” It does excite me. I’m like, “Wow, that’s so incredible.” But that’s the music, you know? It’s not me personally. So I finally started separating myself from that because I’m the same kind of fan. I have a band [tattooed] on my back that inspired me when I was in high school called Gorilla Biscuits. It’s not someone’s name, but Steve Aoki is like a band to someone. So I understand the way music moves people and why you do that. It’s a community. That’s how I see the brand.
I think a lot of this is not just about the music, too; it’s the experience, you know? And the experience itself is something that can last a lifetime. That’s why the live show is so important. It’s not just about being a producer in the studio and getting the music out there and having people connect with the music in their homes. A lot of my IP is based on the actual experience [of a live show], and unfortunately, I can’t clone myself because as an entrepreneur, you would think, “How do you scale that?”
Is that why you play so many shows?
Yeah. It’s like you get this momentum going when things are happening, and I’ve seen a lot of friends, a lot of artists, taking their brick and just disappearing. And they didn’t have the same momentum to come back as strong as they were.
Are you scared of that happening to you?
I am. I think I am. I mean, I don’t want to say that, but I think it does have this effect on me because the thing is, I love what I do. Like, to be able to be onstage and the high that you get after a show, it’s just incredible.
What’s the secret to keeping this so fun after doing it for so long?
I’m glad you asked this question. I just was in South Africa and I did two shows out there, and during my extra time, I worked on music with two South African artists. I actually connected with more African artists from different regions as well and their beats, like Afrobeats and amapiano, have definitely been coming up inside my beats. The sounds, the rhythms, the percussions, I have a strong affinity to this music. That was so much fun. That’s what keeps things going.
I think being a global artist, being able to travel all the time, my natural way to connect with different cultures is to musically connect and collaborate with different people of that culture. And fortunately, they’ve allowed me to work with them in different capacities that have brought out some of these incredible global records that connect my sound to their sound. And the more and more I do it, the more exciting it is and the more it’s connecting with a whole different world of people, with a different culture. You see it at the shows. It just becomes more exciting to do more outside of what you normally do. It’s a challenge, too, and I love the challenge.
This story will appear in the April 27, 2024, issue of Billboard.
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Hip-Hop’s relationship with the other coasts has long been curious, marked at times by periods of disregard, surprise and respect. For Southerners, much of that affirmative praise comes from the work of rappers like Scarface, groups like UGK, 8Ball and MJG, and OutKast, and producers like Mannie Fresh, DJ Paul and Juicy J, and the production trio, Organized Noize.
Birthed in Atlanta, the collective of the late Rico Wade, Ray Murray, and Sleepy Brown, is responsible for not only some of music’s biggest records but also for bringing life to a persona and energy that gave the South its moniker. The Dirty South, the moniker’s inception often credited to Cool Breeze, is a nod to the Goodie Mob song and a testament to the work they put in down in Wade’s mother’s basement, affectionately known as “The Dungeon”. Their work in creating the music for OutKast, guiding the careers of Goodie Mob, and producing the music for the South elevated its position and laid the foundation for future Southern producers who followed in their footsteps.
Here are nine songs from the trio that should be on your playlist.
Cool Breeze- “Watch for the Hook”
The funk, soul, and gospel-infused hook of Southern Man from New Orleans singer Merry Clayton is the perfect theme for this posse cut from one of the South’s premier clans, the Dungeon Family. A play on the song’s chorus and the dynamic’s battle rap flow, it stands out as one of the DF’s most enjoyable cuts—taken from Cool Breeze’s debut album East Point’s Greatest Hit.
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Goodie Mob – “They Don’t Dance No More”
Prophetic, satirical, and visually captivating, the hook is embedded in listener’s minds, wedged in between the keyboard chords and vocals. An honest analysis of the changing landscape in rap, Goodie’s Mob’s lyrics focus on the increasingly violent and serious tone of rap music, which is why it remains one of group’s most memorable songs.
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Ludacris – “Saturday (Oooh! Oooh!)”
The third single from Ludacris’ multi-platinum sophomore album, Word of Mouf, the ear worm of a sample and vocals from Sleepy Brown help give the song a feel of nostalgia and bravado. “Saturday’s” success helped reintroduce Organized Noize to a newer generation unfamiliar with the music of OutKast and other premier artists of the 90’s.
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Goodie Mob – “Cell Therapy”
The sonics of the piano keys only added to the song’s jarring lyrics which foreshadowed the musical experimentation of Goodie Mob. In an interview with B-High of Hot 107.9, Khujo speaks on how the song came to be.
“We went to Stankonia Studios and Ray (Murray) had a beat. That piano came on and I was like, What is this?! I got lost in the beat.”
Serving as the group’s first single from its debut album, Soul Food, the song’s socially conscious themes and sci-fi focus led to it being banned on MTV. Controversy aside, the song’s production showed the world how creative and passionate Organized Noize was.
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Goodie Mob- “Dirty South”
The definitive song, which featured Cool Breeze and Big Boi, for a whole region had to be considered near or at the top of the list. Iconic references to Atlanta staples like the Red Dog police unit, Ms Ann and her historic Ghetto Burger, and now demolished housing projects serve as a time capsule of Atlanta before gentrification. Safe to say, many people didn’t know about the Dirty South prior to this declaration.
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OutKast – “So Fresh, So Clean”
The song’s bassline, played by longtime bassist Preston Crump, and sleek vocals provide a groovy and memorable energy to the track, making it one of the OutKast’s most memorable songs. As for the video, the visual duality of their outfits and rhymes represents the yin and yang that make them iconic and this remains one of the best examples of each member’s contribution.
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En Vogue – Don’t Let Go
Yet another signature song from a girl group that came to define them as a whole while equally performing well on the Billboard charts. Arguably the most successful record En Vogue released, the song’s powerful piano chords and vocals brought the group a level of fame unlike anything they had ever seen. Envisioned by Rico Wade who subsequently suggested the song go to En Vogue, Don’t Let Go spent 35 weeks on the Billboard Hot 100 charts, peaking at #2.
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TLC- Waterfalls
One of the biggest songs of its era and arguably the biggest song by TLC, the “Wateralls’” iconic guitar and horn selection showcase the musical dexterity and genius of Organized Noize. A metaphor that touched on the social and spiritual issues of that time, “Waterfalls” showed the world just how versatile and capable both groups were at making popular music.
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OutKast – “Player’s Ball”
Without the work of Organized Noize, the world would never know about the genius of OutKast and Atlanta. A Christmas Carol about the joys of brotherhood and blunts, the song introduced the world to OutKast and set the stage for their future reign. Conceived in Rico Wade’s basement, the music that followed allowed OutKast and Goodie Mob to shine, while in the process leading us to the one of the South’s most important groups, the Dungeon Family.
In an interview titled Hip Hop: Songs that Shook the World, Big Boi spoke on the influence of Rico Wade and Organized Noize, stating,
” He was the gateway to LA Reid and he signed OutKast to LaFace through a production deal. Without Organized, there would be no OutKast or Goodie Mob. They put all their blood, sweat, and tears into making our first album.”
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In 2021, with nearly four decades of recording under her belt, 15-time Grammy winner CeCe Winans released her first live album, Believe for It. However, with the world still reeling from COVID, she and her team were forced to shift the dynamics of making the album, recording the project in an intimate setting of about 50 people in Nashville.
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For her new album, More Than This, out April 26 via PureSprings Gospel/Fair Trade Services, Winans knew she wanted another shot at doing a live album. This time, the project was recorded at downtown Nashville venue Rocketown, with an audience of around 1,200 members.
“I wanted to experience the live audience,” Winans tells Billboard. “The last record was powerful, and God blessed it. But to hear the live audience on this one, it takes it to a whole other place for me.”
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As with her previous album, Winans sets classic worship songs alongside modern ones. On More Than This, classics such as “Sanctuary” and “Oh the Blood of Jesus” are tucked alongside modern worship fare — such as Chris Tomlin’s recent hit “Holy Forever,” Elevation Worship’s “Worthy” and Maverick City Music’s “Refiner,” as well as two songs Winans co-wrote, the title track (which features musician Todd Dulaney) and “Be Still and Know.”
Winans reunited with producer Kyle Lee, as well as co-producers Thomas Hardin, Jr. and Tyrone Jackson, for the new album. She notes that they carefully selected the dozen songs that make up the tracklist, with the intent of weaving an upbeat, joyful message throughout the project.
“We got the chance to create a worship service more than a record, a time of worship that would tie the old with the new,” Winans says. “I know a lot of people don’t listen to whole albums nowadays, but I like to create a piece of work that you can listen from the beginning to the end, and you connect that thread all the way through.”
Both performing live and performing cover songs presented its own unique challenges in the recording process of the album.
“You have to rehearse with the band and singers, and learn the songs,” says Winans, who is managed by MWS Group, which also manages CCM pioneer Michael W. Smith. “If I had my preference I would learn the songs, tour the songs, then do the record — because then you’re very familiar with the songs and the performance, you have a tight feel to it. But I went in with a lot of prayer, asking God to help me remember everything and spent a lot of time with my producer and rehearsing so that when you get in front of that live audience, you’re just able to flow with the songs.”
Music has been a mainstay for Winans’ entire life, as she began singing as part of the larger Winans family group, before CeCe joined her brother BeBe to form a duo. They released their first album, Lord Lift Us Up, in 1984. A few years later, they signed with Capitol Records and issued their 1987 project BeBe & CeCe Winans. The duo issued numerous Gospel hits such as “Lost Without You” and “I’ll Take You There” (featuring Mavis Staples), before they launched solo careers. In 1995, CeCe released the debut solo album, Alone in His Presence, which went on to be certified Platinum by the RIAA. To date, she has released 11 solo studio albums.
The title track to Believe For It brought another hit for Winans, reaching the top 10 on the Christian Airplay chart in 2021 and becoming a 12-week No. 1 on the Hot Gospel Songs chart in 2022. She followed with her rendition of Bethel Music’s “Goodness of God.” In 2023, Winans also notched other Billboard year-end accolades including top gospel artist, female; as well as top gospel song (“Goodness of God”).
Where “Believe For It” and “Goodness of God” were ballads, “That’s My King,” the current single from her new album, frames worship lyrics with a danceable groove.
“Kyle brought me this song and when I heard it, I was like, ‘This is incredible,’” Winans relates of the song, which is currently at No. 25 on the Christian Airplay chart. “It’s fun, and it’s upbeat, not just in tempo but in its message.
“I think sometimes we forget because we do associate church and God with being in a solemn assembly. He is to be reverenced, but He said in his presence, there’s fullness of joy,” she continues. “That’s not something to keep quiet, but that’s something to proclaim and to share so that other people can have hope too. And I think this song embodies all of it. ‘That’s My King’ reminds us that we have hope.”
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That joyous spirit in the song gets amplified when she performs it each night on her current The Goodness Tour, which runs through May.
“In our live show, we’ve added pompoms. I’m like, ‘This is a cheer. We got to cheer this. It’s a party,’” she explains. “It’s one of those songs that is contagious, so full of joy. It’s like cooking a good meal. You put all of the ingredients in there, then you stir it up and you get the full benefit of the flavor.”
The album closes with “In a Little While,” a song written by Winans’ son Alvin Love III.
“It’s a great, powerful message to end the album with,” Winans says. “It’s another song that makes you want to dance, is joyful. That’s one of the songs I played for Kyle because it’s been years since [Winans’ home church choir] Nashville Life recorded it, and it has an older, retro sound. That was a song that he was like, ‘I don’t know about this,’ but I was like, ‘This is one we have to do.’ That night when we recorded it, everybody was jumping around, singing, nobody wanted to leave. He came back to me and said, ‘Oh my gosh, you’re so right.”
Songs from More Than This will likely be included in the setlist when Winans brings her third annual Generations Live conference to Nashville’s Belmont University on May 10-11. The conference will feature guests Joyce Meyer, Jackie Hill Perry, Dr. Anita Phillips, Sheryl Brady, Ashley Phillips, Andrea Mellini and Nashville Life Music.
“I think last year we saw four generations of women attend,” Winans says. ‘My family will be there. I’m so grateful I still have my mom. She’s 87, and my daughter will be speaking this year. I’m so proud of her. I am looking forward to laughing. I’m looking forward to crying, to seeing generations come together.”
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Source: handout / Lady Luck
In the pulsating heart of Hip-Hop where lyricism reigns supreme and storytelling is an art form, few voices resonate with the raw, unapologetic power of Lady Luck.
A lyrical force, she strides through the music scene like a queen. From the battleground to the underground and the mainstream; her rhymes cut through the noise with razor-sharp precision. As we sit down with this fearless lyricist, we unravel the layers of her journey and delve into the mind of Lady Luck, where every word is a testament to her unwavering spirit and unmatched talent.
Lady Luck’s evolution in music is a testament to her resilience and growth as an artist. From the fierce and now legendary battles between herself and Remy Ma, where she honed her skills and made her mark, to the more reflective and positive messaging we hear in her latest single, “Praise”, her journey has been transformative. The tragic loss of her mother served as a catalyst, prompting Lady Luck to channel her pain into her music, using her platform to spread messages of hope, empowerment and self-discovery. This shift in focus showcases her versatility as an artist and highlights her ability to turn personal tragedy into a beacon of light for others.
Hip-Hop Wired: We know you are a vet in the game, but to kick things off let’s talk about your female Rap influences. Who are the top five that influenced you to pick up the mic?
Lady Luck: Oh wow, I’m a little biased because I feel like my top five should be everyone’s top five [laughs], but I would say it’s Queen Latifah, MC Lyte, Da Brat, loved Da Brat, and Nikki D. Of course, Nikki D, we can’t forget her, but can I get some honorable mentions? Because I want to add Lady of Rage, Roxanne Shante and Antionette. I mean I have some honorable mentions for all of the girls who poured into me, pause. [laughs]
I understand because when it comes down to influences, narrowing it down to just five can be hard because there are so many great artists.
Like The Sequence, for instance. They were the first female Rap group signed by my aunt, Sylvia [Robinson], and Angie Stone is in the group, only then she was known as Angie B. She was also my godmother at that time.
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As a battle rapper whose previous ongoing battle against Remy Ma is now considered infamous, how do you feel about the hate female rappers receive for verbally sparring like their male counterparts?
It’s like that all the time, but that is rooted in gender inequality. No different than when a woman speaks up for herself, she’s considered “bitchy,” but you learn that it’s part of it. I personally appreciate everything the girls are doing and shaking up s–t. I appreciate Nicki and Megan and Drake versus everybody, I almost want to get in on it. [laughs]
Being a veteran MC who has learned to navigate and flow with the current music, how do you feel about the current state of culture and the wave of new artists collaborating with vets as a way to pay homage to those they were inspired by?
I think it’s dope and the first time we have seen something like this in the industry at this rate. Like shout out to Coi Leray for teaming up with Busta [Rhymes]; the fact he is still on fire is dope. I love it. I love that the lines are blurred with the internet because I believe it’s a gift and a curse. Yeah, anyone can drop an album, but anyone can drop an album so it’s the power that’s there too. Look at Hit-Boy, his father came home from jail and started dropping that old-school heat–people enjoyed it.
One thing I love about you as an artist is that you always highlight the artists that you are listening to and shine a light on those you feel need to be seen. Who are some new artists you are checking for and would like to collaborate with?
I’m really bad with names because I smoke so much weed. [laughs] So when this question comes up I always remember someone I should have mentioned later, but Lola Brooke for sure. A lot of artists I hear on Sirius Mixtape Radio because it’s my go-to. Steff-G, she’s definitely on my radar. It’s just so many dope people out there right now, shout out to anybody who’s not giving up.
Speaking of not giving up, over the years you have made a few interesting transitions as an artist. We have seen you go from gutter and gritty, to sexy, to empowering and now seemingly an elevated conscious state. I know you attribute that to the recent passing of your mother–but you have a very masterful way of channeling life into your art.
I just been through hell man; I don’t look like what I’ve been through. It’s funny, I was telling my wife the same thing, that I may look like I am strong and not going to break down, but there are moments I want to break down. But know I can’t. I honestly feel like there’s more to life than what “they” are telling us like we are a lot more special and advanced than we are led to believe. So I have been looking for truth honestly–that’s how I got cool with Forbidden Knowlege and did projects with him because I want to know more. I don’t want to just be in the matrix promoting violence and on a lower frequency anymore. There’s so much more and I want to find out.
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I saw that you recently posted your recipe for plant-based General Tso chick’n, is veganism a part of the new journey?
Yeah, we were trying something different with cooking up mushrooms. We are actually about to start a podcast about cooking up mushrooms in different ways. I’m not a vegan yet, but I am working on getting away from eating chicken and meat so much because I love mushrooms, and it’s much cleaner.
With so many things going on, is there anything else we should be on the lookout for?
I am in New Jersey working on a street renaming for my mother. We are in the early stages, so be on the lookout for more details about Donna Lee’s Way coming soon. Also, we got my shades lines, Sundai Wear, and we got our new artist, DollyB, going crazy and my new album, The Human Experience. I am working with a bunch of great artists and dope producers so be sure to check that out.
As a student at the University of California, San Diego, Ollie Zhang oversaw the campus’ annual music festival and dozens of concerts throughout the year. Post-graduation, he co-founded the dance music brand Space Yacht in 2015. But he aspired to have a bigger, different kind of impact on the music business. “This idea of finding a place within the music industry for Asian artists to thrive always felt like a faraway concept to me,” he says. “A lot of the folks that I worked with and came up with in the music industry were Asian Americans. We all had this far-off dream that this is something that could be possible one day.”
So when Zhang (now 33) met Sean Miyashiro (now 42) in 2015, he says it was “serendipity” because Miyashiro was developing the very idea Zhang had imagined: carving out space for Asian and Asian American artistry to flourish. At the time, Miyashiro was helping VICE launch its dance music site, THUMP, but he soon realized, “If we created something to celebrate [our creative community], it would be better than anything else that exists.”
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Together, he and Zhang grew their shared vision into the company that became 88rising, the first and only hub for Asian artists in the music industry. 88rising launched with a small roster of clients Miyashiro was independently managing at the time, including choreographer-singer Brian Puspos, rappers Keith Ape and Dumbfoundead and dance artist josh pan. Zhang was at first, he believes, creative manager, then became chief of staff and is now head of artist development. (He also manages two of 88rising’s key signings, singer-songwriter NIKI and elusive indie-alternative star Joji.) And while the company initially focused on hip-hop, Miyashiro immediately made clear that it was never intended to be for any one type of creative — or even be any one thing at all.
Today, 88rising is a label, management firm and global brand — with Miyashiro, who alongside Zhang spoke to Billboard during weekend one of Coachella at a private residence in Indio, Calif., teasing that yet another new division is on the way. The company’s wide-ranging label roster includes NIKI, Joji and rappers Rich Brian and Jackson Wang. Meanwhile, the 88rising brand has grown into a behemoth. In 2018, it held its inaugural Head in the Clouds festival at Los Angeles State Historic Park, and the event has since expanded to New York; Jakarta, Indonesia; Manila, the Philippines; and Guangzhou, China. In 2020, 88rising launched North America’s first 24/7 radio channel dedicated to Asian artists, on SiriusXM; in 2021, the company curated the soundtrack to the Marvel blockbuster Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings; in 2022, it became the first label to score its own billing on Coachella’s lineup (returning in 2024); and, last year, it struck a global distribution deal with Sony’s The Orchard.
“Sean creating 88rising from just an idea in his head to what it has become today is incredible,” Wang says. “The thing I immediately knew about Sean is his vibe was so real from day one. He cares about art deeply before anything else, which is so rare in this music game or entertainment industry. I knew I could trust him, and he immediately began guiding me into decisions not only about my music, but how I see myself as an artist and human being.”
But regardless of exactly what 88rising does, Zhang attests that the why has never, and will never, change. “The mission statement remains the same to this day: uplifting Asian youth culture around the world,” he says. “Everything that we’ve done is a manifestation of that same intent. Obviously, the stakes have gotten higher, but where we’re at now is not even what we could have necessarily dreamed of.”
Tell us about operating as a label and as a brand.
Sean Miyashiro: It never was intended to be a label. I didn’t know anything about what it was to distribute a record or whatever. And I probably still don’t, frankly speaking. Like, I still don’t know how royalties break down and all this stuff. The intention of 88rising was to be a celebratory platform, and just by nature of what we were putting out, which was really based on the distinct taste of the people that were working here, that became the brand. That became the beating heartbeat of what 88rising was. And then all these artists started hitting us up, just being like, “We like this energy. Let’s do something.” Being a label was a happy accident… And we have a great opportunity to continually do more, so we have to take responsibility in that opportunity because nobody has really come after us.
Sean Miyashiro photographed on April 17, 2024 in Los Angeles.
Yuri Hasegawa
How does operating as a global brand entice artists, beyond only offering label services?
Ollie Zhang: There’s that little percentage of value that comes with [being] a brand, and I think that’s the intention. We do our best to make it incredibly clear that being here for an artist is advantageous and that you will be supported. Seeing [Japanese girl group] Atarashii Gakko!, for instance, use every single Head in the Clouds festival over the last couple of years, moving them slowly up and up the lineup and introducing them to different markets around the world — that is something that people definitely notice. And especially for an act like [them], the experience of being at that show instantly converts you into a fan. So how do we create as many opportunities for people to experience that as possible? That’s the advantage of being the platform that we are.
Miyashiro: When we’re in Asia, it’s crazy. I went to Indonesia with my family, and I was in one of those things that scale a mountain, and the operator is like, “You’re Sean.” When we go to Japan, when we go to China, it’s the same type of feeling — people know what we’re trying to do. And it’s by way of trying to be as consistent as possible. We have to push ourselves to stay ahead of this. I have anxiety; I never ever feel that we’re sitting pretty. It’s the complete opposite.
Many of 88rising’s wins are industrywide firsts, like the label’s now-annual Coachella billing. Why is the company able to pull off such feats?
Zhang: I think that’s a big credit to Sean and daring to believe that that’s possible. And obviously, a credit to the team that’s here and has been here over the last eight years to help execute that. And we couldn’t have done that as well without earning the trust and belief of artists that we look after, artists within the community, artists across the world. And it has all been iterative, right? It’s not necessarily a straight path, but it has always been moving in that direction.
Miyashiro: I love being able to [work with Japanese group] Number_i and new things because K-pop is already fully [established globally], times a thousand, and that’s amazing. [It’s] incredible what the whole industry there has built. But I want to showcase somebody from Cambodia or Vietnam. We love being first; it’s fun. Who wants to be second?
The 88rising Coachella set always features a variety of talent across countries and genres, including Japanese acts like Number_i this year. Considering that the label launched as a predominately hip-hop platform, what is now drawing a wider range of artists to the company?
Miyashiro: Fundamentally, we’re not business-driven or very good at business. Business is something that we have to learn by nature of, like, being able to make payroll. We’re inherently artist- and creative-driven. That’s what fuels everything. But the thing is, we’re so lucky to have built a relationship and a friendship and a bond with [our roster]. That’s what it really is. And that’s why nobody leaves, to be honest. We say this all the time: It needs to be so painfully obvious to the artist that [being on 88rising] is a benefit to them.
Zhang: It’s [about] aiding the artists on their own journey to find out what they want to communicate to the world or what kind of artists or musicians they want to be. NIKI is a great example of that. In the pandemic, she really started feeling like the kind of artist she wanted to be was going back to the singer-songwriter lane where she was making music in her bedroom in Jakarta. That’s why when she brought that original idea for [her second studio album] Nicole, it was a no-brainer in terms of wanting to embrace that and bring her creative partners that make sense.
88rising artist Jackson Wang, who says of Miyashiro: “The thing I immediately knew about Sean is his vibe was so real from day one.”
Connor Gaskey
NIKI performs at HITC on May 21, 2023 in New York.
Lindsey Blane
What up-and-comers are you putting muscle behind this year?
Zhang: A big part of the 88rising set [at Coachella] was an eye toward great Japanese talent with Number_i, Atarashii Gakko! and Yoasobi. I don’t know if it was intentional, but that’s what we’ve rallied around in this specific moment.
Miyashiro: A lot of people have been like, “Oh, dude, there’s a lot of Japanese artists,” but it wasn’t a planned thing. It’s always by nature of who we might be talking to about something as small as making a song. And then it’s like, “Yo, come on over.” These are invaluable opportunities for artists. Just in culture, [the fact that] Number_i played Coachella is like, “What, where did that come from?” Because it’s like, how else would they get here? We love being able to deliver these things with ease … It’s like, “Yo, Paul [Tollett, president of Coachella promoter Goldenvoice], give us some real estate here. We’ll figure it out.” Literally, I was like, “Just make sure that we’re on the flyer.” I had no idea what we were going to do, but it’s organic. It’s like putting together a block party.
How do you see 88rising’s Coachella billing evolving?
Miyashiro: We’re going to do it again next year. We’re going to start earlier, and I have an idea … We’ve been doing a celebration, [offering] a glimpse of all these artists going back-to-back-to-back. I think that, in the future, we want to do something a bit more orchestrated and seamless with a theme. Kind of like a musical. Tell a light story in 75 minutes. We’re actually starting that process.
What else are you working on?
Miyashiro: Right now, there are so many aspiring artists, young people, deciding to make music. And with all the infrastructure that we built and the know-how, we have the opportunity to help a lot of them. We are going to create something called FAM, Future of Asian Music. It’s a distribution ecosystem for independent Asian artists.
There’s a lot of distribution mechanisms that somebody can use, but we’re going to be [creating] a really nice ecosystem of curation and recommendation through artists of influence. [There will be] a lot of live stuff within this, and it’s all around the ethos of DIY, independent, next-generation Asian music from all over Asia. We’re doing a ton of content around this from live programming, like our version of COLORS [the German music platform known for simple live recordings from up-and-comers around the world]. It’s like [a] from-your-bedroom-to-stardom-type of thing. We want to be a part of that conversation and journey every step of the way. This is a fire starter … and pretty soon, there’s hopefully a thousand artists distributed through us. I think that we will reach that.
Zhang: It’s fully realizing the original intent of 88rising. And more important for an artist nowadays is not the sheer process of getting your music on a platform, it’s how do you create content to put you in context with all the other artists that are uploading music every day? FAM is a vehicle to express that.
Artists who performed at the 88rising Futures showcase at Coachella on April 15. Standing, from left: BIBI, Atarashii Gakko!’s SUZUKA and MIZYU, JP the Wavy, U-Lee, Jackson Wang and Number_i’s Yuta Jinguji, Yuta Kishi and Sho Hirano. Seated: XIN LIU, Tiger JK, Yoonmirae, Atarashii Gakko!’s KANON, Awich, NENE, MaRI and LANA. Kneeling: Atarashii Gakko!’s RIN. Right: Rich Brian.
Lindsey Blane
Rich Brian performs at HITC on May 21, 2023 in New York.
Deanie Chen
What subgenres do you think are shaping the future of Asian music?
Zhang: I think that Isoknock — [comprising dance/electronic artists] ISOxo and Knock2 — are leading the charge on a major resurgence in electronic dance music here and around the world. They are just pure rock stars. And I think that they are actively revitalizing a scene that has been dormant. Both Sean and I come from the dance world, grew up in electronic music — so has a lot of our staff — so that’s something where once we saw how special it was, just from the ground floor, we wanted to jump on it. For them to be two Asian American kids from San Diego and for dance music being a big part of Asian American culture over the last couple of decades, that really means something that they’re at the forefront.
How do you view the impact of 88rising so far?
Miyashiro: It’s funny because when we started, some haters were like, “Oh, dude, you think you’re the only person that can do this?” I hear people in investment meetings saying, “We’re going to be the next 88rising for African music,” and that’s dope. I love hearing that. But in the Asian space, it hasn’t happened yet. I’m sure it will in some way, shape or form. And we love that. That was the point. If we cease to exist tomorrow, we can look back and have some peace and be like, “We really did something here.”
This story will appear in the April 27, 2024, issue of Billboard.
On a hulking gray building on a wide boulevard once bisected by the Berlin Wall, a silver call button grants access to an expansive, shadowy, unfurnished foyer. Ascend a winding set of stairs and open the door at the top, and you’ll find the office of the CEO: South Korea-born Peggy Gou, who has swiftly become the world’s most in-demand female DJ-producer working in dance music today.
Inside Gou HQ, the bright overhead lights contrast with the early-April rain outside. The sprawling room — which has a vibe that’s more “friend’s apartment” than sterile corporate sanctum — is outfitted with a wooden meeting table, full bookshelves and a plush green velvet couch from which Tasos Filippou, Gou’s touring manager, arises to serve Gou and me black coffee in little terra cotta mugs on peace sign-shaped coasters. Gou wears baggy jeans, a black sweater that covers her many tattoos and sunglasses with silver reflective lenses that offer only occasional glimpses of her eyes. Her hair is piled in a loose bun, her skin is flawless, and even in casual mode, she’s giving cool-girl glamour. She offers a quick handshake, closes the window to make sure the room is quiet, then sits down to attend to business.
In the last 12 days, her slick brand of house has taken her to Miami, Mexico City and Buenos Aires. Of course, it’s not unusual for DJs to party hop across continents — what’s less typical for a DJ is having an office. But Gou’s story is defined by a business acumen that could be characterized as corporate hustle if it didn’t also happen inside dark techno clubs.
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A Korean woman in a scene dominated by white men, Gou, 32, has orchestrated her own dizzying rise, immersing herself in Berlin’s electronic scene upon moving here 10 years ago, then ascending to white-hot producer/fashion tastemaker thanks to last summer’s viral single, and her first Billboard chart hit, “It Goes Like (Nanana).” This new ubiquity — ever-higher billing at the world’s major music festivals, a German Vogue cover, a 2024 BRIT Award nomination for international song of the year — has neatly teed up Gou’s debut album, I Hear You, coming June 7 through eminent indie label XL Recordings.
The rare self-managed marquee artist, Gou has achieved much of her success on her own, and the room we’re sitting in functions as an extension of the command center in her mind.
“I remember meeting managers who told me, ‘I can make your life easier,’ ” Gou recalls. “I was like, ‘How? Tell me.’ Even if you take care of all these emails, you still have to come back to me because no one can make decisions for me. Every decision has to come from me.”
Peggy Gou photographed March 26, 2024 at Maison Celeste in Mexico City. Sentimiento tracksuit, Tercer Mundo vest, Cruda shoes, AYANEGUI earrings and necklace.
Aaron Sinclair
These decisions have produced an expansive business that includes heavy touring; A-list brand deals; her label, Gudu Records; and a merchandise line, Peggy Goods. With strong fan bases across continents, Gou will next be raising her profile even more in the United States ahead of and beyond I Hear You’s release.
“Because Peggy has such an incredible touring footprint globally,” XL Recordings head of U.S. campaigns Laura Lyons says, “in the U.S., we’re in a position where, because we haven’t historically had her in the market as much, we need to build on the moments when she’s here in person and also translate the excitement of an international, globe-trotting DJ to the local market.”
One week and 6,000 miles later, the odds will look clearly in Gou’s favor.
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The first time Gou played Coachella, in 2018, the line to get into her show wrapped around the at-capacity Yuma Tent where she was performing at three in the afternoon. “Even one person not being able to see my set, that upsets me,” she says. “So I was like, ‘Maybe next time, I play a bigger stage.’ ”
On the first night of the 2024 festival, that “maybe” has become a firm “for sure.” Gou presides over the Sahara Tent — Coachella’s biggest and most established dance music mecca — from atop a towering stage as an emoji version of herself smiles at the audience from massive LED screens. With the newly expanded Sahara Tent stretching 320 feet, not including spillover — almost a football field long — it’s likely Gou’s crowd is the largest ever assembled to see a female producer in Coachella history. (After the set, she shares Instagram Stories of herself backstage hanging with J Balvin, getting chummy with Will Smith and then getting a burger from an In-N-Out somewhere in the Coachella Valley.)
In March, Gou made her debut at Miami’s Ultra Music Festival, and in May, she’ll play dance mega-festival EDC Las Vegas for the first time. These shows, “from a perception point of view,” Lyons says, “are going to broaden [her] audience from this more underground electronic fan to a more mainstream kind of electronic base.”
Cueva top and skirt, Ket Void jacket, Cruda shoes. Floral Art Installation by Flores Cosmos.
Aaron Sinclair
That might be anathema to some purists, particularly those steeped in the techno-as-religion culture of Berlin. But Gou has been able to maintain her underground cred even while blowing up. The early-April screening of the music video for I Hear You’s third single, “1+1=11,” happened at a smoky Berlin club where the techno went until 3 a.m. on a Wednesday, and her friend group includes revered producers like Four Tet and Floating Points, whom she was recently hanging with in Mexico City. “I love those guys,” she says. “So nerdy. Like, ‘Guys, stop talking about how fat your drum is.’ ”
I suggest to Gou that her underground pedigree, paired with a forthcoming debut album that’s refreshingly accessible, might make her uniquely well-suited for the United States, where the so-called “underground” styles of house and techno have become the scene’s prevailing commercial forces in the live space. For her, that idea is beside the point. “Some people are like, ‘She’s really underground,’ or ‘She’s commercial,’ ” Gou says. “I don’t care. I’m just going to keep doing my thing and you can say what you want.”
Growing up in South Korea’s third-most populous city, Incheon — where she was born Kim Min-ji — Gou listened to “sh-t,” “good music” and “everything.” She lived in the shadow of her older brother, who’s “like super genius, one of the crazy Mensa IQ people.” Meanwhile, “Study wasn’t my thing. I was kind of rebel. So if you tell me to stay here, I will not stay there. If you tell me to go, I will stay. I didn’t like people telling me what to do even from when I was a kid.”
Her parents, recognizing that their 14-year-old was not “doing well” in South Korea, asked if she wanted to study English in London; she did. In the United Kingdom, Gou lived with guardians but snuck out to parties, fostering a clubbing habit that matriculated with her into the London College of Fashion. She began DJ’ing, booked her own residency at a club in Shoreditch, finished school, moved to Berlin and worked at a record store by day while she was indoctrinated into techno by night. “After one month, I’m like, ‘OK,’ ” she says flatly of her first trips to the city’s notoriously exclusive techno institution, Berghain. “Three months later” — her voice grows louder and more forceful — “ ‘OK.’ Five months later, I was like, ‘I finally get it.’ ”
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By 2016, she was making her own music, and by 2018, revered dance label Ninja Tune was releasing it. She started her own Gudu Records in 2019; that same year, she released the groovy house track “Starry Night,” which featured her singing in Korean and became a dance world hit.
All the while, she was touring. As her own manager, “I was the only person who was pushing me,” she says. “I didn’t need to be there. I didn’t have to do that. I think I got hyped. I got too excited about the shows and getting many shows.” In 2019, she played in 25 countries, including some, like Lebanon, Egypt and Saudi Arabia, that are far from the well-trod dance world circuit.
“Imagine a bullet train,” Gou says, speaking rapidly. “This was me in 2019. When it stopped, it didn’t stop slowly; it had to stop super fast.”
When the pandemic started, she returned to South Korea and spent three months at home — the longest amount of time she had been with her family since she was 14. She recharged even as life in South Korea — which introduced what many considered one of the world’s best COVID-19 control programs — continued without large-scale lockdowns. (“Asian culture is different because when you have a flu, you wear a mask,” she says, “so it was not that difficult for Asian people to keep the rules.”)
In Incheon, Gou had the time and head space to focus on music. She echoes a pandemic-related refrain prevalent among DJs who tour heavily: “It was a hard time for a lot of people, but for me, it was one of the best things that happened to me.”
Peggy Gou photographed March 26, 2024 at Maison Celeste in Mexico City. Sentimiento top, Tiempos pants, Tercer Mundo belt, Frank Zapata shoes, AYANEGUI necklace. Batán Chairs by Taller Batán.
Aaron Sinclair
She kept working upon her return to Berlin in mid-2020, finding that the ’90s dance music she was listening to during the pandemic had “changed my taste.” While she had been making her debut album for a while, she decided to make ’90s dance the center of the project, evident in the interplay of the bass and chimes on a track like “Lobster Telephone,” which sounds like it’s sprinkled with powdered sugar. The “It Goes Like (Nanana)” bassline is pure Jock Jams — the 1995 compilation that introduced a generation of suburban adolescents to dance music — and has helped the song aggregate 72.2 million on-demand official U.S. streams and 565.3 million on-demand official global streams to date, according to Luminate. Altogether, the album, on which she sings in both Korean and English, is dance music distilled down to its most polished essentials — and you don’t have to be a hardcore fan of the genre to get into it.
The sonic opposite of EDM maximalism, I Hear You may very well represent the future of main-stage electronic music. “In my career, I never once thought, ‘I’m on the next level now,’ ” she says. “Only when ‘Nanana’ happened did I realize that people were recognizing my song before my face. That’s when I really realized, ‘F–k, this is different.’ ”
Gou’s North American agent, Stephanie LaFera of WME (which represents her worldwide), says the song’s success has created “significant growth in her U.S. audience” that’s “only increasing the demand for her.” LaFera is focused on opportunities that serve Gou’s “super-engaged fan base that cuts across a lot of different spheres” while also introducing her to new listeners.
“For [“It Goes Like”] to become this global song of the summer and be Peggy’s first song to hit No. 1 on the U.S. dance radio charts was just such a fantastic tone-setter for this album,” Lyons adds, “and for what we believe she’s capable of achieving in the U.S.”
If you’re Peggy Gou, it’s entirely possible that the person seated across from you at Thanksgiving dinner may turn out to be Lenny Kravitz — which was exactly the case when, in 2022, she went to a friend’s house in Miami for the holiday.
“He had absolutely no idea who I was,” Gou recalls. “The only thing I could mention was that I did [two songs] for [his daughter] Zoë’s movie [The Batman].” It was a solid in. The pair talked over turkey, and her friend told Kravitz to check out Gou’s music. Not long after, Kravitz asked if she wanted to collaborate.
She sent Kravitz a track — a song that she had struggled to find a singer for after artists including The Weeknd and Giveon turned it down — and heard nothing back. “So I decided to go to the Bahamas,” where Kravitz lives, she says. “My friend was like, ‘You want to have Lenny Kravitz on your album? F–king book your flight, go there and get it.’ ” There was, Gou says, some “opinion clash” during the recording process, as “I’m a perfectionist and he’s perfectionist.” She adds with a smile, however, that Kravitz did ultimately tell her she was right about a part of the song they had disagreed on. Their slinky “I Believe in Love Again,” the second I Hear You single, arrived in November.
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Gou’s single-minded professional chess moves manifested her deal with XL in the first place, years after she reached out to the label about an internship back when she was a student in London. XL didn’t respond then, but it got in touch after the success of her 2018 single “It Makes You Forget (Itgehane).” “I did make a joke,” she says of her first meeting with XL, “like, ‘Check your inbox.’ ”
Gou acknowledges that working with her can be “very difficult because I push the team always harder… If you have so many opinions and you’re a woman, people call you a b–ch, but [XL] doesn’t see it that way. They think it’s a pleasure to work with someone who has a clear vision.”
XL also most likely enjoys working with a talent who’s changing the face of electronic music simply by being one of the most popular artists making it. “As incredible as it is to see a Korean woman occupy this space in dance music culture,” says Lyons, who herself is Asian American, “it’s not the reason why I’m excited by her.”
While a new level of streaming and chart success would be a nice outcome for I Hear You, to Gou, they’re “very 1D hopes.” She’ll consider the album a success if people listen to it and — she puts a hand over her heart — “get a feeling.”
Bottega Veneta coat, AYANEGUI earrings.
Aaron Sinclair
The feelings are clearly being felt at Coachella, where people in the crowd — many of them, like Gou, also wearing sunglasses though the sun set long ago — are flailing around, arms in the air and dreamy smiles on their faces. A crew of six dancers pop and lock, vogue and gyrate onstage. Gou will take this show on the road this summer for a run that includes European festivals like Primavera Sound, Glastonbury and Creamfields. In August, she’s hosting and headlining her own one-day mini-fest at London’s Gunnersbury Park; the show’s 8,000 tickets sold out within days of going on sale.
Unlike her early years of touring alone, Gou now travels with her tour manager and a road assistant or two. She “doesn’t always fly private,” but says the primary appeal of a private jet is a preference for efficiency that she says is part of her heritage: “I’m someone who [doesn’t] like wasting my time. I’m very efficient. I think that’s from Korean culture. Efficiencies are very important in Korea.”
A private jet “saves a lot of time,” she continues, “and you can sleep half an hour or even one hour more. Also, you don’t need to worry about the baggage weight.” Perhaps most crucially, though, flying private lets her move through the world while maintaining maximum control. “Hotel lobbies and the airport,” she says, “give me so much anxiety.”
These days, Gou’s team also includes a security detail, as she has experienced stalkers and people “waiting at the hotel or waiting at the airport for 10 hours.” She “can’t go to Italy alone” and brings two security guards to Argentina where the crowd is “quite wild.” She recalls spending the entirety of a commercial flight to Ibiza facing the window after half the plane recognized her while boarding. “I was like, ‘My neck,’ ” she says with a laugh, feigning pain. “It’s nice, but sometimes it gets a lot for me.”
“She can see 100 meters ahead in the airport. She notices the colors of things, remembers what people are wearing and is just super, super sensitive,” touring manager Filippou says, “especially when there’s a lot of people around.”
But her skin has gotten thicker as her career has grown. “In the beginning, I remember [people saying], ‘You will never be bigger than this person. No one’s going to buy your record. No one knows your name.’ I heard these things so many times.”
The criticisms “used to really affect me,” Gou continues. “I used to want to scream, like, ‘That’s not f–king true.’ ” But as time went on, she realized she was the reason her feelings were getting so hurt. “I was not happy,” she says of her pre-pandemic life. “I was so focused and tunnel-visioned. My relationship with boyfriend wasn’t doing well. Friends, workwise — nothing was happy. I learned a lot about myself during the pandemic.” Learning to listen first and react later has been huge for her. It’s why she’s wearing a mirrored headpiece that reflects her ears on her album cover and why she named the project I Hear You.
Sentimiento tracksuit, Tercer Mundo vest, AYANEGUI earrings and necklace.
Aaron Sinclair
One of the biggest early critiques Gou experienced side-eyed her interest in fashion, which made her fear “that people would never take me seriously.” So during her early years in Berlin, she sported the de facto DJ uniform of black (and sometimes, maybe, white) T-shirts — a fit that never felt authentic. Around this time, a mentor told her to turn her perceived weaknesses into strengths, so she ditched the tees for couture.
Dressing in brightly colored, flowing sets and racing gear helped her catch the attention of top fashion houses like Louis Vuitton, with which she has had two partnerships. She was good friends with late DJ-designer Virgil Abloh; after his 2021 death, she posted on Instagram that “I will forever be grateful that in the infancy of my career, Virgil showed support at a time when not many others would.” Her own Peggy Goods line creates custom merch for each of her shows; at the “1+1=11” music video screening party, more than one person wears a bomber jacket with the song’s title embroidered on the back.
Gou documents the fabulousness of it all on her Instagram, which has 4.1 million followers and which — yes — she runs herself. To her, the account is a natural evolution of her old Tumblr, where she would post photos of her outfits, meals and outings. She uses the same approach now on Instagram — except the outfits are by Ferragamo, the meals are on a beach in Ibiza and the outings are playing for tens of thousands of people screaming her name. Her glamorous aesthetic, and the size of her audience, has yielded deals with brands including Don Julio, Coca-Cola and Maybelline.
Now other DJs ask her how they can expand their own brands into the fashion world. It’s speculative, but the most obvious answer seems to be to work as hard as she has. “People see that I’m riding in a Rolls-Royce now, but I used to take a f–king bus,” she says. “I did an interview in Korea recently, and the first [comment] was, ‘I smell old money.’ No. My dad was poor. My mom was average. I’m not from a rich family. I worked hard to have a glamorous life.”
Like most anyone who has achieved major success and its attendant visibility, people still give Gou sh-t. But in a true boss move, she has come to enjoy it.
“Now when I hear criticism, it means I’m doing super well,” she says. “So go ahead: Say my name.”
This story will appear in the April 27, 2024, issue of Billboard.