indie
Page: 4
Recently, d4vd found himself feeling happy – as it turns out, maybe a little too happy.
“Not that being happy is wrong,” clarifies the genre-blurring artist behind Hot 100 hits “Romantic Homicide” and “Here With Me” and who last year scored an opening gig on tour with SZA. But, he says, “I started going into these sessions making songs. I wasn’t making music. I’d go in and be like, ‘Let’s make the best song ever.’ But then I wasn’t being as introspective as I used to be, and I was making such surface-level music. It felt like it wasn’t even d4vd anymore.”
This story is part of Billboard’s Genre Now package, highlighting the artists pushing their musical genres forward — and even creating their own new ones.
Explore
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
And that’s the irony of an artist like d4vd – when things feel too defined, he himself feels lost.
The artist born David Burke is a bit of an anomaly. Born in Queens, New York and raised in Houston, Texas, d4vd grew up on a range of influences from Mozart to Chet Baker to eventually Lil Pump. After a classmate introduced him to Soundcloud, he quickly became a fan of then-underground and sonically diverse rappers like Lil Uzi Vert, XXXTentacion and Smokepurpp. (Even today, he says the platform’s algorithm fits his taste “to a T.”) All the while, his gaming obsession (with Fortnite in particular) led him to discover more indie-leaning rock, which he says predominantly shaped his own approach to making music – a venture that started at first as a means to avoid more copyright strikes on the gameplay montages he would post to YouTube.
[embedded content]
Having made his first two EPs (Petals to Thorns and The Lost Petals, both released on Darkroom/Interscope Records) in his sister’s closet using his iPhone and BandLab, d4vd’s music has a refreshingly stripped-back, DIY aesthetic – or, in his own words, an “ethereal nostalgia.” He believes identifying his music by a mood is more important than being defined by any one genre – a belief his managers and label supported from the jump.
“There was a drive to keep things organic and not change the formula,” he says of his early communications with Darkroom. “To let the creativity flow from where it usually came from…and not subjecting myself to any of the boxes of genre.”
Below, d4vd talks with Billboard about his own unusual relationship with genre and whether he thinks the concept will have much of a place in popular music’s future.
You previously told Billboard it’s an honor to be a gateway for music fans, especially young Black music fans, into alternative music. Why is that role so important to you?
I feel like the most important thing right now in the past five years of music has all been image. The driving force of marketing and promotion and everything has been [about] an artistic image.
[At first] I didn’t show my face at all, because I knew the music that I was making wasn’t what Black kids usually would make when they go into music. I had so many friends I tried to get into music and they instantly went for the hip-hop sound or the alt-rap sound or whatever was going on at the time, underground. But then I started making the indie alternative stuff, and I was like, “What if people didn’t know what I look like?” And that was the most important thing for me, because I wanted the art to speak for itself.
SZA spoke in her Billboard cover story about the “luxury” of trying something new and how it’s harder as a Black woman. When you were on tour with her, what did you learn from watching her blend so many influences into one seamless live show?
We didn’t talk about music that much during our time together, but I can see the career trajectory she’s built. And now SZA has become this sound that everybody’s so used to, but it’s all new people finding out about SOS first, and then not contextualizing her past projects. So that’s the thing about music too, there’s so many new ears hearing you every day. And your work isn’t always fully appreciated because of where you started. And people always see where you are [now]. So it’s interesting to see an artist that prolific have such a passion for making everything.
But then there’s a certain demographic that will only listen to one thing, so it’s kind of hard to kind of expand. I think Lil Yachty is doing that the best right now with his [Let’s Start Here] project, and always bringing in new fans to these sounds that have been around for a long time but aren’t fully appreciated because of the culture.
Who do you think your fanbase is?
I wouldn’t say for sure that I have a target audience yet. Although I’ve been making music for like, a year and a half, done a couple tours, we’ve seen the people that come to the shows… but I don’t have a certain group of people that I’m marketing to. So that allows me to kind of be free with the way I create. Right now, the people that listen to my music are people that are fans of certain sounds, not certain artists. So I don’t have to be compared to anybody else, because the fans like the sounds and not the person behind it.
Do you think that’s a specific trait of Gen-Z and how they consume and even discover music today?
I mean, completely. There’s no more artist development now. It’s like, people are marketing songs before artists, and it works sometimes. But the rest of the time it’s like, I’m hearing a song 50 times a day and I still don’t know who made it. And it’s in my playlist too. And I couldn’t care less about the artist. We’re in a weird spot right now, but I think more people are figuring out how to break through. And it’s just interesting to see internet kids take over the music industry.
Do you think in the next few years that we will still be defining music by genre?
Oh, absolutely. I feel like there’ll be even new genres. We’ve created so many subgenres that subgenres are becoming main genres. So I can’t imagine like, years down the line, how music is even categorized.
Have you ever with your team or friends made up a subgenre that could apply to d4vd?
You know what? No, I haven’t done that yet. I should, to be honest. It’d be like, hyper-alternative indiecore. I don’t know. [Laughs.] We can hashtag that.
How do you describe your music to people who may be unfamiliar?
I like to make old sounds new, I did it best with “Romantic Homicide” and “Here With Me.” It’s kind of like the old Morrissey from The Smiths, kind of Thom Yorke Radiohead rawness and passion that was lost due to over-technologized music. Now everything is layered with like, 50 vocal stacks and 50 harmonies and this, that and the third.
And kids’ brains are getting oversaturated with so much stuff. When they hear raw [music], it’s refreshing now – when it shouldn’t be refreshing, it should be how music is. I feel like I’m just taking advantage of the fact that kids are not hearing this kind of stuff around anymore. I feel like Steve Lacey is doing it the best right now, too. Dominic Fike, he’s doing crazy right now too.
And that’s the thing too, with genre. It’s like, we got to bring back the weird people making music. I don’t think I’d ever see Thom Yorke come on Tik Tok like, “Did I just make the song of the summer?”
Do you think some of that weirdness is lost because of social media? Are people too concerned now with how they come across?
Yeah, cause people are too worried about what works. Back in the day nothing worked. Nothing was working. So many things are working right now. Even the way people approach different genres in the same way. I don’t like seeing techno and EDM being promoted the same way an acoustic song is on TikTok…it’s like, I’m dancing to this and I’m crying to that, but they’re being marketed the same way and I’m confused.
Is there an artist or band that you would want to work with that you think would shock people who have listened to you before?
Deftones. I want to work with Chino [Moreno, Deftones frontman] so bad. So bad.
This story is part of Billboard’s Genre Now package, highlighting the artists pushing their musical genres forward — and even creating their own new ones.
Are there any producers that you’ve come across that you would want to work with?
Coming up, it was all YouTube beats, ‘cause I had no connections to anybody in the industry. So I’d go on YouTube and search up this type of beat and that type of beat. And that’s another thing, I wouldn’t go and search up: “indie type beat.” It was like a certain sound or feeling instead of a genre.
Like, if I get [the top spot] on New Music Friday and a bunch of new people are hearing this for the first time, I’d rather them ask, “Why is this on top of New Music Friday?” than have them be like, “Oh yeah, I understand why it is.” I like my music to make people think about why it’s in the position it is. And “Romantic Homicide” and “Here With Me” did that, and I loved it so much because people didn’t know why [they were taking off]. I want you to not be able to figure it out.
[embedded content]
For artists who are just starting out, is identifying with one genre helpful or hurtful?
It can be both. I feel like whatever makes you confident in your music and your sound, go for it. But I feel like there’s more freedom in not associating yourself with anything. And I feel like most people that start doing music forget that there’s freedom and are going off based on what they see around them. I see the benefits of being like, “Yeah, I just made this song so now I’m gonna make a hundred more like that and see if people like it.”
Whatever makes you confident in your music and your sound and helps you stick to it and not lose the passion for the music…You can lock yourself in a box and also break out of that box later if you want to. So just do whatever you want.
It’s been a busy year for M83, and it’s not done yet. After releasing his ninth studio album, Fantasy, this past March, the French musician has been on the road with his band for a 30-date spring and summer run in the U.S., Europe and Mexico, immersing audiences in the lush, cerebral, often thrilling dream pop that’s made the artist, born Anthony Gonzalez, a revered figure since his 2000s breakthrough (and particularly the release of the 2011 classic Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming).
Explore
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
The fall leg of the Fantasy tour launched last night (Oct. 3) in Tacoma, Wash. and extends through mid-month with dates throughout the Pacific Northwest, California, Nevada and a final show at Austin City Limits on Oct. 15.
Amidst praise for the new album — 13 tracks of transportive, deep, pretty and emotionally evocative music — Gonzalez has also gotten attention for the monster mask he’s wearing on the cover art and in all the promotional materials, a slightly scary but now seasonally appropriate guise he says is “a way of hiding myself from the world.”
He did, however, hit a wave of unwanted attention after a March interview in which he said that “EDM is probably one of the styles of music that I hate the most,” expressing disdain that his era-defining hit “Midnight City” is so often played by “these bro EDM DJs.” Gonzalez later clarified, releasing a statement that “I do not hate the EDM community. No! I am forever grateful for the love and support,” but adding that he does hate “DJs using my music without any permission.”
Here, Gonzalez shares if any DJs have asked for this permission, why he’s more comfortable in the monster mask and why he doesn’t believe in guilty pleasure music.
1. Where are you in the world right now, and what’s the setting like?
Just arrived in Seattle to start the last leg of the Fantasy tour. I always loved this city. It feels like Seattle has a soul and spirit that is highly inspiring.
2. What is the first album or piece of music you bought for yourself, and what was the medium?
A cassette of the album Number of the Beast by Iron Maiden, which was sold to me by my brother’s friend Fred. I was immediately attracted by the fantastical cover art and the sound that felt like discovering a new planet. I was 10 years old and suddenly hooked to rock music.
3. What did your parents do for a living when you were a kid, and what do or did they think of what you do for a living now?
My mum was the owner of a very cute little fabric store in the heart of Antibes old town, while my dad was a police inspector. Neither of them had anything to do with music, though my mother always pushed my brother and I to play a musical instrument. I feel extremely lucky that my parents always supported us in our choice of being a musician and a movie director. We always had the freedom to do what we liked.
4. What’s the first non-gear thing you bought for yourself when you started making money as an artist?
I actually don’t remember buying anything but musical instruments when I started to earn money with my music. It has always been my sole obsession.
[embedded content]
5. If you had to recommend one album for someone looking to get into electronic music, what would you give them?
I think it would be a Tangerine Dream album called Phaedra. It’s a dark but rewarding album that takes you on a journey to very strange places. One of my very first shocks as a teenager listening to electronic music.
6. What’s the last song you listened to?
“Pygmy Love Song” by Francis Bebey.
7. You’ve been on the road behind Fantasy since April. Has there been anything surprising or particularly interesting to you about the way the album has come to life in the live setting?
To me, it’s the team I’ve put together for the tour that keeps me wanting to play more. I love my band and crew. They always have my back and they keep inspiring me every night on stage. I don’t think I could have done it without them.
8. I understand you’re about to release “Mirror,” the unreleased Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming-era track. Why, and why is this the right time?
Simply because it’s a track that never came out digitally and we close our shows with that song. The response of the audience has been great so far, and it’s an unknown song that deserves to be properly released in my opinion.
9. The creature that’s on the cover of Fantasy and in a lot of your promotional materials for it — what is that creature? What motivates it? Why does it represent this album?
It’s a way of hiding myself from the world. I absolutely hate seeing me. It’s starting to scare me to know that so many photos and videos of me are online. Ideally I would like to be able to have control over such images, but it’s just practically impossible. So I choose to protect myself and just fight to make sure that my music stays the main protagonist in what I do.
10. You wrote on social media that “I want to keep having fantasies about worlds that I don’t know and creatures I don’t understand, and that’s the story behind this record.” Unpack that a bit more for us — have you kept having those fantasies? Why is this important to you?
I’m just a dreamer, and anything related to being an adult in a modern world is boring and terrifying to me. The ultra-connected aspect of our society is making life more stressful. Emails, socials, my phone, they are all my worst enemies. My imagination saves me from turning insane with it all. Music helps a lot.
11. Based on things you’ve said in previous interviews, it sounds like you’re ready to move away from Los Angeles. What did the city give you while you were there? Why is it time to leave?
I’m not gone yet, but I’m seriously considering it. L.A. will always be the city of dreams for me. When I moved here almost 15years ago I felt like anything was possible. It really helped me to be a better artist by allowing me to be close to more talented and successful people than me. In that way it pushed me to be a stronger person and to work more.
But I miss France a lot, my family and friends, my culture and my roots. I’m lucky that I can share my time between California and France, even though traveling has become more and more difficult. A lot has changed in 15 years, and not in a good way. Just going to an airport now is such an exhausting and draining experience.
12. What are you seeking elsewhere?
Peace of mind. A quiet life making music close to my loved ones, far from the noise and superficiality of a big megalopolis like Los Angeles.
13. You made headlines around the release of Fantasy with some comments about EDM and about how you wish DJs would ask permission before playing your music. Have any since asked for that permission? If so, did you grant it?
A few have asked yes, and I thank them for it. Of course I grant it. I know that DJs helped my music to be more popular, and I’m thankful for it. It’s just a different world with different rules. I have to learn to let go sometimes.
14. But, surely there are DJs who play other peoples’ music that you enjoy. Maybe? Was there a particularly great set you’ve been to recently?
I don’t think I’ve ever listened to a DJ, no. It’s not my culture and [I’ve] never been attracted to the club scene.
[embedded content]
15. What’s one song you wish you had written?
None. I’ve never been envious of anyone. I have respect yes, and there are so many artists that I love to death, but that’s all. I believe we need to accept that some artists are more talented and successful than yourself. So many songs and albums move me in a very deep way, but even so I never wished to be someone else. I’m already trying to accept myself as an artist, which is an extremely difficult process to me.
16. Do you have guilty pleasure music?
No, I don’t like this expression of guilty pleasure. If you get pleasure listening to something then it’s just good!
17. The proudest moment of your career thus far?
Being myself and making the records I want.
18. What’s the best business decision you’ve ever made?
I hate the word “business.” I don’t like talking about success, money etc. Being able to make music is a gift, and that’s all I care about.
19. Who was your greatest mentor, and what was the best advice they gave you?
Justin Meldal-Johnsen. Moving to L.A. and meeting him was a blessing. He helped me find myself in so many ways. I always go to him when I need guidance. He’s like a brother to me, and I love the fact that he always says what he thinks, even when it hurts.
20. One piece of advice you’d give to your younger self?
Be happy, music is cool.
Late last year, Ben Gibbard was staring down a pair of significant milestones: Death Cab for Cutie’s breakthrough album, Transatlanticism, would be turning 20 in 2023, as would Give Up, the lone full-length that Gibbard and electronic artist Jimmy Tamborello released as The Postal Service. Death Cab’s management suggested separate 20th-anniversary tours, but Gibbard envisioned a two-for-one nostalgia jamboree.
“I was like, ‘People are going to lose their minds if this is one tour,’ ” he recalls. “And I think the initial response and ticket counts were certainly a vindication of my approach.”
Indeed, the Give Up/Transatlanticism joint tour will bring both indie touchstones to arena and theater crowds beginning Sept. 5, with stops at New York’s Madison Square Garden and two hometown gigs at Seattle’s Climate Pledge Arena among 31 scheduled dates (up from 17 when the tour was announced in December). Gibbard will naturally pull double duty — performing Transatlanticism front-to-back with Death Cab and all of Give Up with Tamborello and Jenny Lewis, who provided backing vocals on six album tracks.
[embedded content]
For Gibbard, the tour will revisit the most pivotal year of his career. Death Cab, which formed in 1997, famously came close to breaking up in late 2001 after touring and recording at a breakneck pace. The subsequent downtime gave a then-25-year-old Gibbard the space to craft the foundation of Transatlanticism, as well as work with Tamborello on an indie-pop side project by mailing CD-Rs to each other (hence the name The Postal Service).
“All of a sudden, I found myself with a lot of time to meander creatively,” recalls Gibbard, now 47. “I felt very confident, and maybe a little bit cocky. I could musically wander and explore the space, and it was very fruitful for me.”
Give Up turned into a blog-adored cult classic, while Transatlanticism took Death Cab “from indie-rock popular” to “popular popular,” as Gibbard puts it. Although Give Up peaked at No. 45 on the Billboard 200 and Transatlanticism at No. 97, they’ve earned 1.8 million and 1.1 million equivalent album units, respectively, according to Luminate.
[embedded content]
Looking back, Gibbard is grateful that his breakthrough with both albums occurred a half-decade into his career. “We had [already] gone through some very difficult times together, and come out the other end,” he explains. “I can’t say with any certainty that if things were like they are now — a band puts out a three-song EP and is selling out shows and has people putting cameras in their faces — there’s no way we would have survived that.”
While Death Cab was just on the road in support of its 10th album, 2022’s Asphalt Meadows, the upcoming tour will mark The Postal Service’s first concerts in a decade, since Give Up turned 10. For Gibbard, these Postal Service shows will be slightly different — unlike in 2013, Give Up will be played in order, without B-sides or covers — but performing again with Tamborello and Lewis will be just as fulfilling.
“These are two of my best friends, that I get to spend extended time with on this trip,” says Gibbard. “We get to celebrate this record that we made, that became this kind of lauded moment in indie rock — but also, it’s a celebration of our friendship.”
A version of this story will appear in the Aug. 26, 2023, issue of Billboard.
On Aug. 18, Jagjaguwar will release a five-album box set titled Epoch, which will include unreleased music along with a 114-page story on the short-lived indie-rock band DeYarmond Edison. The four-piece act boasted Joe Westerlund and Phil and Brad Cook, all of whom later formed the psych-folk band Megafaun, along with Justin Vernon, who went on to form and front Bon Iver.
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
On Thursday (June 22), a new two-pack single from the forthcoming release has arrived: “Hazelton B/W Liner.” The stunning and stripped-down songs laid the groundwork for what ultimately became the Bon Iver standout “Holocene,” off the band’s second album, Bon Iver, Bon Iver. “Holocene” received Grammy nominations for record and song of the year a dozen years ago. Bon Iver won best new artist and best alternative music album that year.
“Hazelton B/W Liner” is not only the oldest song that would become part of Bon Iver’s catalog — Vernon first recorded it between July 2005-May 2006 for his third solo album, Hazeltons — but also arguably the song that caused DeYarmond Edison to split. One month after Vernon’s Hazeltons arrived (released only on CD, with just 100 hand-numbered copies made), DeYarmond Edison played its final show. Less than one year later, both Bon Iver and Megafaun would release its respective debut albums.
Hazeltons will be one of the five LPs included in Epoch. The physical edition will include an exclusive live version of “Hazelton” that Vernon recorded with Aaron and Bryce Dessner in Paris. The box set’s other albums include All of Us Free, recorded between November 1998-July 2005 when DeYarmond Edison was a group of high schoolers making music as Mount Vernon; Silent Signs, DeYarmond Edison’s second studio album that has been remastered and pressed to vinyl for the first time; Epoch, Etc., which chronicles the band’s move from Eau Claire, Wisc., to Raleigh, N.C.; and Where We Belong, which houses buried treasures found after the band’s breakup.
As the box set’s executive producer and biographer says of Epoch as a whole, “This is the sound of sorting through an overabundance of new info, mostly for yourself. And, even in the rather fraught process, finding out just where it is you’ve been headed your whole life.”
Listen to “Hazelton B/W Liner” below.
This month the music industry is flocking to New York. Though it has always been one of the industry’s biggest capitals, the New York City mayor’s office of media and entertainment has coined June New York Music Month, complete with its own hashtag (#NYMusicMonth), in celebration for its history of musical excellence. Longtime events like Songwriters Hall of Fame, which will honor talents like Snoop Dogg and Liz Rose, will continue this year as always, but the city has also added more events like Anti Social Camp, a 100-session songwriting camp designed to “reinvigorate” the New York scene, to draw in more musicians and music executives than ever.
No week this June is more bustling than June 12-16, which, depending on who you ask, goes by a variety of nicknames. Dubbed “Publishers’ Week,” “Songwriters’ Week,” or “Indie Week,” the week will be a particular high point of celebration and schmoozing in the city that never sleeps.
See below for a list of events around the city:
United Jewish Appeal (UJA) Music Visionary of the Year Celebration (June 7)
This annual luncheon, held in Ziegfeld Ballroom, is one of the first events to kick off a packed musical month for New York City. A fundraiser for UJA’s efforts — supporting Holocaust survivors, combating poverty and providing care for those with mental and physical health needs — its Music Visionary of the Year luncheon is a celebration of the music business and some of its most astute leaders. This year’s event will be emceed by Grammy-winning artist Jon Batiste and will honor Amazon’s vice president of audio, Twitch and games, Steve Boom.
NYMM Conference (June 7)
Presented by the Mayor’s Office of Media and Entertainment and the NYU Steinhardt Music Business Program, this year’s annual NYMM Conference (at the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum) will feature speed talks, panels and other chats with more than 40 of New York’s music industry experts. Panels throughout the day are set to include a Web3-focused chat with Living Colour guitarist Vernon Reid, a panel celebrating 50 years of hip-hop with Apple Music’s Ebro Darden, and a state-of-the-industry panel featuring A2IM’s Richard James Burges and the RIAA’s Mitch Glazier, among others.
She Is The Music Camp (June 9-11)
She Is The Music, one of the music industry’s leading gender inclusivity efforts, is hosting a songwriting camp in New York City to connect and empower young women and non-binary songwriters and producers and create a safe space for them to connect. Curated by Archana Gopal and Cassidy Murphy and sponsored by Guayaki Yerba Mate, the camp will take place at Kensaltown East Studios all weekend long. Some of the participants include Hayes Warner, Sam Short, Simone, Olivia Reid, and more.
Anti Social Camp (June 12-17)
Founded during the height of the pandemic, Anti Social Camp goes far beyond that of a traditional songwriting camp. Featuring 100 sessions, 150 partnered artists, and a slew of major brands and music businesses already signed on, Anti Social Camp is a week-long songwriting extravaganza stretching out over the entire city. Most of the events are private to the songwriters and artists already participating, but its opening ceremony and industry showcase, both on June 12, are available for the public to enjoy.
American Association of Independent Music (A2IM) Indie Week (June 13-15)
A2IM Indie Week is back again this year with a three days of programming, featuring panels held some of the most dominate independent businesses in music and a number of networking opportunities. Held at the InterContinental in Times Square, panel topics include the best methods for artist royalty collection, the changing state of A&R, the rise of regional Mexican music, and more. The conference kicks off on June 12 with an opening night party, presented by ADA.
Association of Independent Music Publishers (AIMP) Global Summit (June 13)
Since 2017, the Association of Independent Music Publishers gathers in New York for a day-long event, specially designed to act as a touch-base for the indie publishing sector in particular. This year, the well-attended event, which is held at the 3 West Club, will feature panels and keynote addresses from some of the industry’s aforemost leaders.
TJ Martell Honors Gala (June 13)
The TJ Martell New York Honors Gala brings the music industry together in its fight to find treatment and a cure for cancer. The foundation was established in 1975 by music industry executive, Tony Martell, as a promise to his son T.J., who later lost his battle with leukemia, that he would raise $1 million for child’s cancer research. Since then, the foundation has raised over $250 million. This year’s event will honor Warner Records’ Tom Corson, Def Jam’s Archie Davis, and Grammy-winning songwriter/producer Shane McAnally, and feature Omar Apollo, Kristin Chenoweth, Josh Groban and more.
National Music Publishers’ Association (NMPA) Annual Meeting (June 14)
Known as a critical touch-base for the music publishing industry and as a stage for major announcements from the NMPA’s CEO and President, David Israelite, the NMPA Annual Meeting attracts publishing executives from around the world. In the past, the event has been the stage for the trade organization to announce major legal actions, including the NMPA’s copyright infringement suit against Roblox, announced in 2021. The event also honors top songwriters, with this year’s key awards going to Brandi Carlile and Ashley Gorley. Warner Music Group CEO, Robert Kyncl, will also stop by for a keynote conversation.
Libera Awards (June 15)
The Libera Awards are held each year at the end of A2IM’s Indie Week, designed to honor the achievements of independent musicians. This year, Wet Leg leads the tally with six nominations followed by Sudan Archives, Allison Russell, Fontaines D.C., and Soul Glo with three each. This year’s award show will take place at the historic Town Hall in New York.
Songwriters’ Hall of Fame (June 15)
A star studded event honoring music’s greatest songwriters of all time, the Songwriters Hall of Fame is a can’t-miss event. Now in its 52nd year, the awards dinner will induct Glen Ballard, Snoop Dogg, Gloria Estefan, Jeff Lynne, Teddy Riley and Liz Rose into the Hall of Fame. Tim Rice will receive the Johnny Mercer Award, the organization’s highest honor. The event will also honor Post Malone with its Hal David Starlight Award, an honor created for younger songwriters who have impacted the industry already.
THE ALBUM
An Inbuilt Fault, out Friday (May 5) on Partisan Records.
THE ORIGIN
You wouldn’t recognize the Westerman of 2016. In the earliest days of his life as a professional artist, Will Westerman sported long, curly hair and played folk music that most often earned him comparisons to Nick Drake. By the time he began getting more notoriety, he had totally transformed. Now in his early thirties, he keeps his hair shorn close and wears sleeker clothes, mirroring the evolution of his music.
In the late ‘10s, he began collaborating with the producer and fellow Londoner Bullion, who helped Westerman achieve a more electronic sheen. His early singles — including the breakthrough 2018 track “Confirmation,” which ignited a flurry of blog hype — had an alien quality, singer-songwriter fare put through a strange, otherworldly filter.
Since “Confirmation,” the path has been as circuitous as Westerman’s exploratory songwriting. His debut album, Your Hero Is Not Dead, was finished and ready for release in 2019, but he alludes to various speed bumps caused by some people who “behaved badly.” Eventually it arrived right in the summer of 2020, with Westerman unable to tour or promote it properly due to the pandemic. Afterwards, he underwent a crisis of faith, wondering whether he wanted to release music anymore. “It took me about a year to get back in the headspace where I thought it was worth making music again,” he admits. “I remembered why all this stuff started in the first place.”
Explore
Explore
See latest videos, charts and news
See latest videos, charts and news
THE SOUND
Part of the power in Westerman’s recent music is the contrast between warped guitars and synth textures, and Westerman himself. He has always had a rich, expressive voice — it can be crystalline, but also not without a smoky huskiness. As a child, Westerman sang in choirs, and recently found solace in revisiting unaccompanied plainsong as a way of reconnecting with the human voice during long stretches of lockdown isolation. It gives him a unique melodic sensibility, where he may wind and surge beyond the lines we usually associate with pop song structures.
Sophomore album An Inbuilt Fault was intended to be serpentine and unpredictable as well. “I wanted it to feel very close, and less sculpted,” Westerman says. “I wanted it to have a breathing quality.” At the time, he was demoing over polyrhythmic loops, experimenting and writing for himself without any expectation of necessarily finishing another album. In addition to the comfort of choral music, he was digging way into krautrock. “It was the sense of freedom, the sound of freeform expression,” he recalls. “It was the music I needed at that time.”
While Westerman’s guitar is still pivotal to his music, An Inbuilt Fault takes the organic/artificial tension of his music to a new extreme, putting his voice to the forefront over a newly percussive backdrop. Abandoning the beats of past recordings, he wanted to embrace playing live in a room with human beings again — once he was finally able to. An Inbuilt Fault ended up being a document of a group of musicians wrestling an elusive sound into being, all tumbling drums and guitars surrounded by all manner of flickering, alluring textures at the songs’ edges.
THE RECORD
With everything on hold, Westerman decided it was time to try a big life change he’d thought about for years — he wanted to move to Athens. Embarking on a “half-baked” plan to live in a van in the Balkans, he started across Europe and stopped to visit his father in rural Italy for a week. Thanks to more COVID lockdowns, he ended up being there for six months.
For all that time, Westerman had very little human interaction aside from seeing his father. He began writing songs again, mostly as a way of keeping himself sane, but eventually saw an album taking shape. When it was time to record, he reached out to Big Thief drummer/producer James Krivchenia — who he’d briefly hit it off with at a show immediately before the pandemic — and with Krivchenia’s touch and ear for percussion, An Inbuilt Fault has that more alive feeling Westerman was looking for.
“I wanted to jump off the cliff creatively,” Westerman says. “I wanted to put myself in an environment that was completely alien to me as a way of trying to grow, to break out of the solipsistic way the music had been forming up until that point.”
That isn’t to say the core ethos of Westerman’s writing was lost in the process. The music unspools and ambles, so it takes longer for these songs to sink into your head, but they don’t leave once they’re there. His melodies are as gorgeous as ever: one of the album’s most simultaneously jarring and transcendent moments is when he slides into the chorus of “Idol:RE-Run,” which happens to wring a hilarious amount of beauty out of the word “motherf–ker.” (“It wakes you up,” he quips.) Meanwhile, “A Lens Turning” uses a dexterous, knotty groove as underpinning for navigating a similarly tangled existential crisis. Closer “Pilot Was A Dancer” has an almost ‘90s alt-rock tone to it, a cathartic burst of guitars as Westerman tells an apocalyptic story about the last human being alive on Earth.
Though Westerman’s songs are inspired by an array of experiences, both his and others, he rarely is autobiographical. At the same time, he acknowledges much of An Inbuilt Fault is traversing relatively dark themes, its title a reflection on our inherent fallibility. At the end of it all, he’s made another striking album that also feels like a hard reset after the ellipsis of 2020. It feels like he’s starting again.
THE FUTURE
Westerman did eventually make it to Athens, and his early days there were wild — things were just reopening, and parties thronged the streets at all hours of the night. One of the singles from An Inbuilt Fault, “CSI: Petralona,” is a rare moment that does derive more directly from Westerman’s actual life, inspired by a “near-death” experience and the kindness of strangers. But since then, it seems he’s settled into his new life in Greece.
“It’s almost the opposite of London,” he muses. “It’s slow-paced. It’s lugubrious chaos. Nothing really works very well but there’s a strange internal logic to it where it does.”
With some distance from London, and from the hubs of the music industry in western Europe and North America, Westerman has found he’s been more clear-headed creatively. He’s come out the other side of questioning his life as a musician revitalized and re-centered. “It remains the same irrespective of whether five people are listening or five thousand,” he says. “The scale is irrelevant in terms of process, and when I remember that it is very helpful. I know I’ll continue to do it now in some capacity, because I know I need to do it.”
To that end, he mentions he’s already close to finishing the recording of another album.
HIS FAVORITE PIECE OF GEAR
“I’ve been using this Meris Hedra pedal. It has three pitch shifters but it’s got secondary functions of delay and feedback. I think you can make a whole record with just a voice and this pedal. It would be an interesting thing to do that as a confined exercise. I don’t really understand it. It’s such a deep piece of equipment I don’t know half of it.”
THE ARTIST THAT HE THINKS NEEDS MORE ATTENTION
“There’s loads. There’s an artist called Clara Mann. She’s almost folk revival, slightly maudlin, sadly beautiful minimalistic guitar singer-songwriter. I really enjoyed listening to that yesterday so I’ll go with that now. That’s a difficult question because there’s literally thousands.”
THE THING THAT HE THINKS NEEDS TO CHANGE IN THE MUSIC INDUSTRY
“I don’t think there is enough protection for artists — in general in the industry, but particularly for younger artists. There’s a disposability culture, where there isn’t really a huge amount of accountability for the way older people in the industry can exploit the good will or naivety of younger people when they’re offering something. It’s not like designing a washing machine. It’s a different sort of thing.
“I think it would be good that, if [and] when people are exploited through their inexperience, there was some kind of culpability for the people who are doing that. Currently there is none. Seemingly there are very few bodies of people you can go to when things go wrong. Generally the people who carry the financial and emotional burden when those things happen are the people least equipped to do it, and that’s an imbalance that is not right.”
THE PIECE OF ADVICE HE BELIEVES EVERY NEW INDIE ARTIST NEEDS TO HEAR
Westerman pauses for a while, and then says simply: “Keep going.”
Lizzy McAlpine’s bucket list is a thing to behold. On Zoom from her L.A. home, the ascendant singer-songwriter holds her Notes app to the camera and begins scrolling. And scrolling.
This is no scatterbrained cluster of “maybe someday”s. No, this is a meticulously plotted ledger of life goals, dozens of lines deep. The achievements she’s yet to check off vary in prestige, from playing Coachella and winning a Grammy to creating a special Lizzy McAlpine taco at HomeState, the Los Angeles chain where Phoebe Bridgers concocted her own vegan dish last year.
A handful of goals have already been accomplished, courtesy of the tireless 23-year-old artist’s ascendence on social media and her arresting sophomore album, Five Seconds Flat. The 2022 LP corralled droves of new fans with its subtle folk-pop devastations, speckled with touches of jazz, R&B and notable features from FINNEAS and Jacob Collier. (It also broke her to a new level on streaming, with her catalog having now earned 245.6 million official on-demand U.S. streams, according to Luminate.)
Among the doleful tracks was “Ceilings,” a plot-twisty ballad of heart-stomping hallucinations, which has taken off on TikTok these last three months and proven the singer’s biggest breakout hit so far. Tens of thousands of videos using a sped-up version of “Ceilings” have amassed more than 235 million views, and translated to more than 30 million official on-demand U.S. streams.
While soaring numbers online are no guarantee for real-life ticket sales, McAlpine has had little trouble developing a devout IRL audience. Last fall, she knocked “headline a tour” off her list, playing mid-size clubs like The Troubadour in Hollywood and Webster Hall in New York. Now, her new roadshow kicking off in April is sold-out across the U.S. and filling the biggest rooms of her career so far — among them Terminal 5 and Brooklyn Steel in NY, the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville and two nights at the 9:30 Club in Washington D.C.
“It’s a level up from the last tour in terms of venue size and also just production-wise, we’re kind of elevating everything, which is very exciting,” McAlpine says. “It becomes more of a theatrical production at this level, and that is very fun for me.”
“Theatrical” is apt for McAlpine, as her stark songwriting style merges the hyper-specific, heartrending lyrics of Bridgers or Olivia Rodrigo — stolen glances over 7-Eleven Slurpees, visions of McAlpine’s suburban Philadelphia-area upbringing — with the sweeping crests and falls of a Sara Bareilles Broadway score.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Bridgers and Bareilles are both admirers of McAlpine; each has DMed the newcomer, singing her praises. Bareilles tells Billboard she messaged McAlpine after watching McAlpine cover her tune “When He Sees Me,” from Broadway’s Waitress.
“As a writer, she has a great capacity to make very mundane experiences interesting and has an exceptionally detailed perspective,” Bareilles says. “It’s the great trick of great writing; specificity is universal.”
McAlpine has had plenty of practice, beginning to write songs on piano at age 12 and picking up the guitar a year or two later. She attended Berklee College of Music for two years — “a huge growing period for me as an artist and also as a human,” she says — before dropping out to pursue her career.
Her soft-treading debut LP Give Me a Minute was a promising start, but her career didn’t truly gain steam until the pandemic forced everyone inside. While some homebound musicians took time to regroup, McAlpine kept working, regularly live-streaming on Instagram, dropping singles and cultivating a committed audience on TikTok. It was there that a snippet of an unfinished song, called “You Ruined the 1975” — a relatable ode to exes who tarnish the bands we love, performed sitting on her bathroom floor — was launched to viral heights in summer 2020, notching more than 8 million views and spurring countless covers.
“I couldn’t quite understand fully the gravity of it,” she says of her social media success. “I was just in my room alone. All I could see was a screen with a bunch of people saying, ‘Oh, this is so good.’ It didn’t really hit me until I toured for the first time, because I could actually see the people.”
Lizzy McAlpine
Caity Krone
Though McAlpine still regularly uses the app, she’s wary of associating herself too closely with the platform.
“I have a love/hate relationship with TikTok,” she says. “I feel like I can see the benefits of it, which is why I post. But if I didn’t have to post, I would not be posting on TikTok.”
Yet she cannot avoid the recent TikTok trend of mostly young women running down dark streets, wildly lip-syncing to the bridge of “Ceilings” as though their lives depend on it. The clips’ exaggerated drama contrasts with the understated desperation of tracks like “Erase Me” and “Hate to be Lame,” the latter track being short for a tragic apology: “Hate to be lame but I might love you.”
In terms of visuals to pair with her music, the artist much prefers longform treatments to bite-size morsels. Ever ambitious, McAlpine wrote a screenplay to accompany the release of Five Seconds Flat last April, which birthed the half-hour short film Five Seconds Flat, The Film, directed by Gus Black (Joshua Bassett, Deftones, Eels). In the film, which gracefully interweaves five songs from the album with dialogue, McAlpine stars as her younger self: anxious, lovelorn, searching for passion and identity. She’s excellent in the dramatic role, floundering through young romance’s brutal volatility, like a character from a Sally Rooney novel.
“[The film] was based on my first real relationship in high school,” she says. “And every time he would break up with me — like every other week — I felt like I was literally dying, like my soul was being ripped out of my body. So I just kind of channeled that.”
Sam Bailey, founder and managing director of Harbour Artists & Music and McAlpine’s manager, says he’s never worked with an artist so driven.
“She’s incredibly ambitious, proactive and prolific,” he says. “You can be the most talented artist in the world and never get out of bed in the morning, but she does. She wants to do a million things all at once – and wants to do them now.”
Lizzy McAlpine
Courtesy Photo
Naturally, McAlpine is already working on her next album. While no hard details are available, she’s happy to tease its direction.
“I feel like [Give Me a Minute] was close to what I think that I actually sound like. And then [Five Seconds Flat], I was trying to go as far away from that as possible, just to differentiate myself and not get stuck in the genre. … This [new] album won’t sound like the first album, but it’s definitely closer to what I think I actually sound like as an artist. It feels like the most authentic music I’ve ever written.”
While McAlpine hopes not to be pigeonholed, she doesn’t mind falling under the “sad girl” label, however, often assigned to her slightly older constituents like Bridgers and Julien Baker, and more recently Gracie Abrams and Holly Humberstone.
“I mean, it is sad — I write sad music,” she assures. “I don’t see that as a bad thing. I think that’s a powerful thing.”
When it comes to the Venn Diagram of rock and avant-garde classical, few figures can honestly claim trailblazer status within that sliver of shared space. But there are few humans like John Cale.
Born in a Welsh mining village during World War II, Cale eventually found his way New York City, where he helped turned classical ideals upside down as part of La Monte Young’s Theater of Eternal Music, before more or less inventing underground rock alongside Lou Reed in the Velvet Underground. Since then, his solo career has touched on everything from baroque pop to ferocious rock to moody electronica to modern classical. Hell, his production credits alone would make him a legend, having helmed pioneering efforts from The Stooges, Nico, Patti Smith, Squeeze, Alejandro Escovedo and more.
Now in Los Angeles after living much of his adult life in New York City, Cale has no interest in slowing down. On Friday (Jan. 20), less than two months ahead of his 81st birthday, Cale releases his new album, Mercy. It’s 12 tracks of enigmatic electronic soundscapes presided over by his resonant voice, which is alternately warm and harrowing as he welcomes an eclectic group of next-generation indie artists to collaborate with him — including Laurel Halo, Animal Collective, Weyes Blood, Actress, Sylvan Esso, Fat White Family, Dev Hynes and Tei Shi.
Speaking to Billboard ahead of Mercy’s release, Cale talks about what excites him now (Earl Sweatshirt, Tyler the Creator), the Bowie/Cale collab that never happened, the man who heckled him during a drone concert and why “irritating” music is important.
There are a lot of interesting collaborations on Mercy. How did those come about – were these artists fans of yours who reached out, or just folks who ran in the same circles?
What happened was I put on a bunch of Velvet Underground 50th anniversary concerts in Europe and the U.S. [in 2017] and I got to know them that way. We all have a certain character; Fat White Family, for instance, are a rambunctious group of musicians and they come at you from all sorts of angles. That makes them fun to work with. I like the edge they had on the verses [on the Mercy track “The Legal Status of Ice”]. Animal Collective are a very funny group and they fit this particular song, “Everlasting Days,” because of all the harmonies they have. They’re not quite as off as Fat White but I still enjoy them. Their multiple harmonies — I love the Beach Boys, so I’m bought and sold there. They’re unorthodox in the best possible way.
Were these collaborations primarily in person, or via email?
They were in person. The way it happened, I’d written the songs and finished them before I went on tour. When I was on tour, I was hoping some work could be done in the studio for me to finish the album when I got back. And the pandemic happened. Unpleasant situation. Very strange. I thought, “Well, that really screws up my recording plans,” so I listened to all the songs and wondered who I could get to add their style and singing.
Weyes Blood [on “Story of Blood”] is definitely a very passionate and deep vocalist. With Sylvan Esso and “Time Stands Still,” Amelia [Meath] and Nick [Sanborn] were in L.A. at the time. I love their harmonies and rhythm sensibility, so we had them come in. It’s a perfect example of serendipity and I couldn’t be happier with the results.
The song “I Know You’re Happy” featuring Tei Shi stood out from the rest of Mercy. Not only does it feature guitar as compared to electronics, but it’s a bit more upbeat. It even ends with a laugh.
I wanted to be a tribute to the duet style of Motown, Marvin [Gaye] and Tammi [Terrell] — and I called Dev Hynes [who plays guitar on the song] and he suggested Tei Shi, and she was perfect. She has a phenomenal voice and a range to go with it. It’s a relaxed vibe, but she has this great spirit about her performances.
You seem to pay attention to a lot of new music, whereas many people hit a certain age and just stick with listening to what they grew up with. What do you attribute that curiosity to?
Keeps me sane, actually. I had all the Snoop, Eminem and Dre addictions, and then when things started moving and shifting, it was to Earl Sweatshirt, Tyler the Creator and Vince Staples, and eventually a masterful poet like Kendrick Lamar. Hiatus Kaiyote, who I ran into in Australia, have phenomenal vocals. The ability in that band — there’s only three-to-four people in it, but it’s outstanding. It’s the orthodoxy I try to stay away from. If they’re making mistakes, I take them as a style issue. There have always been people that made something excellent and exciting out of mistakes.
When looking at today’s alternative music scene, how do you think it compares to the scene you came up with in New York City in the ‘60s, whether with the Velvet Underground of the Theater of Eternal Music with La Monte Young?
I blame it all on them. That’s exactly what was going on. We were really annoying to a lot of people – I’m talking about the VU. The avant-garde in New York was annoying, and got on a lot of people’s nerves, especially the classicists. If you run into any ‘60s avant-garde or whatever, if you go to a concert, you get yelled at. I remember La Monte – we did a concert at Rutgers, a 90-minute drone thing – and somebody in the audience at the end of the performance yelled, “You should be ashamed of yourself, La Monte.” And I thought, “What a weird notion to have in an avant-garde concert.” He wasn’t fazed at all. He said, “So should you be!”
We were very happy, because we knew we were in the right aisle of the supermarket. A lot of that was serious – the guys with La Monte and Andy [Warhol], they all had an edge to them. They were persuasive, or if not persuasive, then persistent. You had to get something unusual out of your music or nobody really cared. I’m not saying your concert has to be headache-producing, but it has to be restless and irritating. What are you worth if you’re not irritating people? Nowadays, there’s a lot of people in Washington doing that very well.
Do you think that’s still true for NYC — that it’s a city that can foster artists making “irritating” music?
Yeah, sure. New York has its thing. Nobody is going to take that away from it. In the ‘60s, that was the time for cultural revolution, with the art, painting and music; it all went together. It’s taken a while for it to come around again, but it will always be there – they’re really persistent and I’m glad of that.
With the internet, do you think it’s easier for outside-the-box artists today?
In a way yes, but in another sense, people don’t really appreciate it. They have to fight for it. It’s a strange position to be in. All those people in La Monte’s groups, they really had to fight for what they wanted. With La Monte, it was the dark corners of the room they would insist illuminating. I respect him for it.
Do you keep in touch with him?
I saw him about a year ago. He pops up every once in a while; we run into each other. He’s a funny guy. It’s the Mormon background that keeps him alive.
I know at one point you and him had a disagreement over authorship on the Theater of Eternal Music’s recordings. Is that over?
It’s water under the bridge. He had a party the other day and had a big orchestral idea for it. He’s moving on.
The ”Night Crawling” video has a great animation of you and David Bowie prowling around NYC in the late ‘70s. Why did you go with that?
That’s just something I wanted to remember. I wanted to pay tribute to David Bowie. You run into people sometimes and you really want to work with them, but you suddenly find yourself out of time and you have this great feeling of the sensationalism of the possibilities. David appeared on the scene, and I was doing a concert in Town Hall. I said, “If you’d like to join in on ‘Sabotage,’ I’ll show you how to play the viola.” And he was more than happy. Then he had to leave town and do his own touring. I was disappointed.
Life gets in the way. So this video looks back on him, while another Mercy song is titled “Moonstruck (Nico’s Song).” Did that start out as a tribute to her?
No, it didn’t. It bothered me because I knew the song reminded me of someone, but I wasn’t sure who until I finished the track – then it was obvious it was Nico I was talking about. And it was with a lot of affection.
The Marble Index, her 1968 solo album which you produced, is one of my personal favorites.
I think historically with her songs, over time, they’ve gotten better. People are purely listening to them. They’re not there to hear what they imagine was a Velvet Underground idea – it wasn’t. She was doing what Jim Morrison told her to do – sit down, write your words on paper, and then put it to music. And then you have a catalog of what you’re doing, and people can come back to your music. And I think that’s happened.
She came out of her shell. She would sit with her harmonium and notebooks and sooner or later you’d have another song. It was always surprising to me. In the albums, there was always one song that was really a childlike song. Between one album and the other, you’d find something quiet and irresistible about her melodies.
The title, Mercy, reminds me of your 1974 album, Fear, both of which are rather big concepts. Why did you want to make an album addressing mercy?
I think I stayed away from it. I paid attention to it and paid tribute to it, but I didn’t linger on it. I stayed away from the liturgical, religious side of the topic.
Yes, but there are religious overtones on the “Story of Blood” video.
Yes. “Story of Blood” was kind of a gargoyle of songwriting methodology. Boy, was that a good sentence or what? I managed to hold hands with the rest of the album beyond the first song, “Mercy.”
This is a random question, but I noticed your 1984 album on Ze Records, Caribbean Sunset, isn’t on Spotify. Is that by choice?
No — I’m glad you brought it up, I’ll research it. Michael [Zilkha, Ze Records co-founder] is a lot of fun – a bit of a giggle.
You have a studio in Los Angeles and have lived in America for years. What is it like when you get back to Wales, where you were born?
It’s always a surprise. Most of the time when I go to Wales and perform, they’re moving and shifting around. The young musicians from there are really good. I just did a concert there with Welsh Sinfonia [Sinfonia Cymru] and they were really good. They paid attention to everything going on. I was impressed with how they got the music to talk back to them.
It must have changed a lot since you were living in Wales.
I tried to have a rock n’ roll band in Wales and it didn’t work. It was kind of depressing. I decided the avant-garde was a better bet, and when I got to London, they were just as annoyed with the music I was interested in as the people in Wales. There are these cracks in the musical sphere that are really the result of people trying to make up your mind for you. [These days] they have a lot of very accomplished composers in Wales and I was really impressed. They have a stream of young composers that put their mind to what they want to do and it’s working.
As 2022 draws to a close, Billboard Pride is taking a look back at some of the queer indie artists who saw their stars rise over the last 12 months. Below, U.K. genre-bender Lava La Rue breaks down their big year.
It’s the end of a busy trip to New York for Lava La Rue. The buzzy, much talked-about indie artist from West London has been in and out of studio sessions and supporting their partner’s gigs around the city, but as they log onto a Zoom call from a Brooklyn hotel room, they look mildly bummed.
“It’s super rainy and gross,” they say, swiveling their camera around to show a cloud-choked skyline just outside their window. “Normally I get this very cute view of everything corny, like the Empire State. Now, it’s just kind of looking like Gotham.” But La Rue acknowledges the weather pattern is just a transitional phase. “It’s been lovely all week, just not today,” they say with a shrug. “It’ll pass.”
La Rue would know what a transitional phase looks like, considering they’ve been actively in one for the last year — throughout 2022, La Rue underwent a shift that brought about a new sound, curated a new audience, and even found the singer a new home for their musical universe. “I think because I started in music fairly young, like in my late teens, some people have been like, “Wow, you’ve been around for quite a long time now,’” they say. “No, I literally feel like I was reborn this year. It feels like starting over almost.”
At the outset of their career in 2018, La Rue was known for their chilled-out, bedroom-rap releases, where the then-19-year-old would effortlessly let their bars flow about everything from cheating lovers to self-criticism on songs like “Widdit” and “F–ked it Up.” But as their career progressed, so did their sound — slick rap verses gave way to groovier, dreamier bedroom-pop tracks, until eventually the singer was in their “lo-fi bedroom” funk-pop era with the 2021 EP Butter-Fly.
La Rue is proud of the music they were able to make for the first three years of their career, especially given their limited access to the necessary tools to make projects like Butter-Fly. But the singer-songwriter quickly points out that their limitations in budget meant a limitation to their sound.
“Before, I had to compromise with the kind of music that I made, and when you have to compromise, you become a ‘lo-fi bedroom’ artist because that’s all you have access to,” they say. “I felt pretty boxed into that label … though I really don’t mind, I have nothing against the genre. It just felt really limiting in that approach — I wanted things to sound bigger and more cinematic.”
So, when it came time to craft their next project, it felt fitting to strip that label away with the title. Hi-Fidelity, La Rue’s third and most ambitious EP yet, saw the young artist plugging in — La Rue credits extended time in the studio to hone a cleaner, sharper sound as the key factor in the transformed sound of their latest project. Put simply, “This was the first time I was making music that sounds like the music I want to listen to,” they say.
Part of what makes Hi-Fidelity such a fascinating listen is that much like the rest of La Rue’s discography, it refuses to be pinned to a singular genre. The star’s signature buttery rap bars remain intact, while they also employ elements of funk, disco, pop-punk and R&B all throughout the EP’s five tracks.
La Rue is unsurprised that genre-fluidity has become a defining factor in what their audience looks for from their music. “There is so much cross-pollination of streaming and finding new music online,” they explain. “Now, a song will just have an inescapable viral moment, and you have people who would not normally listen to Steve Lacy suddenly listening to Steve Lacy. Or people who wouldn’t normally listen to pop-punk or Paramore — if one of their songs pops off on TikTok, suddenly they’re listening to a drill remix of a Paramore single.”
But the fluidity is also the point for La Rue — the 23-year-old artist doesn’t want to be labeled by any particular genre, and instead aims to have people search for music that sounds like Lava La Rue. “I think there’s a playlist on Spotify called ‘Planet Rave,’ and it literally just came from PinkPanthress doing a whole jungle/drum-and-bass revival. I started seeing people making music like PinkPanthress to be on that PinkPanthress-inspired playlist,” they explain. “That is the goal; I’ve always strived to have the level of artistry where what I do is recognizable as a person. Like, it is first and foremost Lava. So no matter what genre you apply it on, you recognize the voice and you recognize what I’m trying to say.”
Achieving an artistry on that level requires new audiences — and luckily for La Rue, they got just that this autumn. Following the release of their EP in July, La Rue joined fellow U.K. indie-rock darlings Wet Leg on their European tour, opening for 8 dates in November across the EU.
With a new, fuller sound, and a big spot on a hotly-anticipated tour, La Rue says they got to learn how to perform with a full band in real time while on the road with Wet Leg. “The live performance now is full-on showmanship — we’ve got an acoustic drum kit, big guitar solos, huge bass riffs, two synthesizers, I’m playing guitar as well,” they explain. “When I first did Glastonbury, it was me and a DJ, and I was singing my cute little songs and rapping and jumping into the moshpit, just me being an MC with the track backing me up. I really had to test my musicality when I couldn’t just hide behind the track.”
But the tour also worked for La Rue in a way they didn’t anticipate — it turns out that getting to perform music you’ve been working on for captive audiences of 4,000 people every few nights is excellent market research. “I almost wasn’t going to do the Wet Leg support tour, because in that time, I was supposed to be going into making my new project,” they say. “But seeing how it feels in a room of people has been so inspiring in the creative process for me. It’s changed the levels in my performance style, even in the way I’m recording things in the vocal booth now.”
When it comes to their new project, La Rue is ready for a full-on rebirth. After completing a two-EP deal with Marathon Artists in 2022, the singer says they’ve just signed on as the newest member of the Dirty Hit roster.
“Dirty Hit made so much sense to me — they’re based in West London, they’re an indie, and they’ve got a lot of artists who I grew up listening to and am obsessed with. It all just fit,” they say, a grin crossing their face. “If you look at the artists on their roster, they all lead with so much creativity, whether it’s The 1975 or Rina Sawayama. It’s also ambitious enough to say, ‘No, let’s make this pop off, too.’ It’s nice to feel like you can be ambitious, but still have creative control.”
So, with a new record deal under their belt and a debut album in the works, what comes next for La Rue? The answer, much like their sound, contains multitudes. “I literally feel like I’m at the beginning of my journey, and my whole goal is to just make everything bigger and brighter and more cinematic,” they explain. “It’s gonna be a whole world-building experience — there’s simply so much to be done.”
As 2022 draws to a close, Billboard Pride is taking a look back at some the queer indie artists who saw their stars rise over the last 12 months. Below, pop singer Chappell Roan breaks down her big year.
When Chappell Roan markets herself as a “thrift store pop star,” she means that in its most literal sense. Even as she logs onto her Zoom account for an interview with Billboard, the 24-year-old singer is opening up a package she ordered online. “There is this girl on Etsy who makes rhinestoned disco cowgirl hats,” she says, tearing into the plastic wrapping in front of her. “So, I ordered one, because I’m going on tour and I have to start prep now for the outfits.”
As she finally opens the bag, she reveals a massive, disco ball-inspired cowboy hat covered in reflective panels and glittering gems. Roan’s jaw drops as she inspects it (“This is so sick,” she whispers), before looking slightly concerned as she dons the sparkling Stetson: “Ooh, that is heavy — I don’t think I can wear this on stage for long.”
Refining her tour outfits is just one small part of what Roan has been up to lately — the rising indie-pop singer-songwriter saw her hard work pay dividends in 2022. Releasing four singles throughout the year to increasing acclaim and growing her online following along the way, Roan is currently enjoying new heights of cultural recognition; her last single “Casual,” along with winding up on multiple “best of 2022” lists, boosted her profile online, with TikTok users quickly comparing pre-release teases of the track to Taylor Swift.
Looking back on her banner year, Roan acknowledges that it feels good to finally be recognized (“Last year I was working at a doughnut shop, so I’m doing great now,” she jokes), but she doesn’t feign shock at finally achieving a breakthrough. “It’s validating … but also not surprising to me,” she says, shrugging. “Like, yeah, I’ve been working my ass off for seven years! It’s about time!”
Back then, Roan was an aspiring singer-songwriter from Willard, Missouri who was simply trying to make it through high school while dreaming of a life in the music industry. After posting some of her music online, the singer traveled to New York City in 2015 for a set of showcases, where she ended up signing a deal with Atlantic Records.
Roan spent five years at Atlantic, workshopping her sound and releasing her debut EP School Nights in 2017. But after putting out what would go on to become her most successful song to date, the label decided to terminate their working relationship with the budding star, dropping Roan from their roster in 2020.
When asked about her time with Atlantic, Roan starts with diplomacy: “It was such an incredible learning experience for me, honestly.” Then, the singer gets real: “It was not great … I feel like once I was dropped, it lit such a fire and fury in me, I swear,” she recalls. “I learned that it’s just like, ‘Oh s–t, no one’s going to do anything for you — not your manager, not your label — if you don’t tell them what to do. No one can do this job for you.’ That’s when I started asking myself how much I could get away with.”
Fortunately for Roan, her time at the label did bear some significant fruit — it was at Atlantic that she first met her songwriting partner Dan Nigro, who has co-written each new release with the singer since her departure. Before he was writing generational breakup anthems for Olivia Rodrigo, the pop-rock auteur was working with Roan on her tracks, earning his first official credit with her for her queer-coded ode to stripping, “Pink Pony Club.”
Unencumbered by label expectations, the singer-songwriter finally began bringing her full creative vision to fruition in 2022. The first step, as she tells it, was nailing her presentation: Gone was an attempt at presenting a clean-cut facade, now replaced by a more effortless deconstruction of style. “Once I let go of trying to be this very well-managed, put-together pop girl, it felt like everything just fell into place,” Roan explains. “I leaned into the fact that my looks were tacky, and very obviously using fake diamonds and Gucci knockoffs. I leaned into my queerness for the first time. When I did that, the songs got easier to write, the shows got easier to design, and my aesthetic was finally there.”
While putting together a rapid-fire rollout schedule of singles throughout the year (including “Naked In Manhattan,” “My Kink Is Karma” and “Femininomenon”), Roan quickly began accruing a fiercely loyal following on TikTok. According to Roan, while she was promoting the release of “Naked in Manhattan” in January 2022, she gained over 30,000 followers in one month, with fans anxiously wondering when the song would come out.
Roan doesn’t see herself as a “TikTok artist” — not necessarily due to fears of pigeonholing, but rather out of a healthy dose of skepticism. “I go so back and forth with TikTok,” she says. “I gained a lot of speed at the beginning of the year with TikTok because I wasn’t busy; I had time to post twice a day, go live once a day, repeat. It doesn’t work when you’re busy.”
The singer knows that because she has, in fact, been busy — along with unveiling her new set of singles, Roan filled the latter half of her year with plenty of touring. After opening for Olivia Rodrigo in May at her San Francisco Sour Tour stop, Roan caught the attention of fellow queer singer-songwriter Fletcher, who offered Roan the opening spot on the second half of her Girl of My Dreams Tour. Embarking on 10 dates with Fletcher, Roan honed her live show in real time while her song “Casual” began to pick up steam online.
“I don’t even know what I discovered, besides the fact that this is incredibly hard,” Roan laughs, looking back on her time opening for Fletcher. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that the live show is where the heartbeat of the project is. Luckily, it’s my favorite part of what I do — I like touring, but a lot of people hate it because it’s horrible and hard.”
The singer likes touring enough that she’s embarking on her own headlining tour in 2023. Spanning 20 dates through February and March, Roan will be traveling coast to coast with an ambitious performance goal — every show, she says, will be themed. “It’s already really hard to do that on an independent budget — but also coming up with that many different themes is insanely hard,” she says. “But, if the live show rocks, then everything else will trickle down.”
It’s also important to her to create a show worthy of the very queer fanbase she’s garnered — that means making tickets affordable (“College kids don’t have money!” she giggles), keeping her concert spaces safe, and donating $1 of every ticket sold to For the Gworls, a Black, trans-led organization dedicated to helping Black trans people pay for their rent and gender-affirming care. “If I can create a space where people can afford to come into a mostly queer space, and dress up and feel good and meet other queer people in a town where maybe there’s not a lot of other places to meet queer people — a.k.a. my hometown — then that is great,” she says. “That’s doing the world good.”
Her plan is working so far — streams for “Casual” are continuing to rise, approaching the 2 million mark before its second month out on DSPs. Meanwhile, the majority of dates for her headline tour have already sold out, with only a small number of tickets remaining at a few venues. “That’s actually crazy,” she says of her sold-out dates. “My numbers are not that big, comparatively, to other artists. So when things started selling out, it was like, ‘Oh, okay, this is pretty real. I did not know that I could sell out in a day.’”
Despite her building success, Roan is still trying to keep one foot firmly in reality — while being independent has its perks, she says, it’s also not sustainable for the kind of artist she wants to become. “I’m not perfectly fine with being indie, if I’m being honest,” she says. “I need money to hire more help, and I just can’t keep doing everything DIY. I cannot keep asking favors from my friends, it’s just not fair to everyone.”
But now, unlike when she was a 16-year-old signing her first record deal, Roan knows who she is and what she wants (opening for Miley Cyrus, for example, is on her to-do list). “I will not sign a deal unless it is the right deal for me, and it must be mutually beneficial,” she says. “I know that I can do it without a label, which gives me such empowerment to walk away there.”
She pauses, and smiles. “That’s the key, I think; this year has been empowering for me.”