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2023 has been a bittersweet year for Prince Paul. In a new interview, the pioneer discussed the passing of Dave aka Trugoy of, De La Soul and more.
Variety magazine caught up with the Long Island, New York native days after âThe D.A.I.S.Y. Experienceâ event in New York, where he and other high-profile talents celebrated De La Soulâs catalog finally being made available on streaming platforms. In an in depth Q&A with journalist Todd Gilchrist, Prince Paul discussed reuniting, his contributions to the seminal 3 Feet High and Rising and more.
When asked about the âThe D.A.I.S.Y. Experienceâ he admitted that the evening brought him back to simpler times with the legendary trio. âIt felt like a reunion of sorts because I havenât seen some people in 30 years â since De La Soul is from Amityville, we all have mutual friends, so they brought out a lot of those peopleâ he revealed.
He also added that the amount of people that pulled up for it was also humbling. âThe rappers that came out, the artists, the support was overwhelming. You knew people supported De La Soul, but you donât really know â at least I didnât really know â until that day. I havenât felt that much love in one Hip-Hop event, I think, ever in my life.â
Paul also revealed that is he currently working on restoring the debut album for the digital era. To hear him tell it, the task at hand isnât an easy one as he recognizes that he could be potentially mishandling a masterpiece. âYouâve got to figure out, okay, let me restore it. Whatâs the sample? Do we sample it again or do we replay it? And if we replay it, whatâs the level of accuracy?â he explained.
Paul also reveals that he too was fearful that their sophomore album De La Soul is Dead, which was drastically different than its predecessor, would not be received well by fans. âI was like, âI donât know how people are going to take this.â Thatâs why I did the skit at the front, where the guy was like, âThis is garbage!â Because I was like, âI donât know if people going to accept [this new attitude]â so Iâm going to beat them to the punch. Iâm going to create a scenario that the record is already scrutinized. Weâll do it for you!â
You can read the interview in its entirety here.Â
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After winning the CMA Awardsâ song of the year honors for his chart-topping hit âBuy Dirt,â and following that with the Country Airplay No. 1 hit âWhat My World Spins Around,â Jordan Davis admits reality has exceeded his expectations.
âI feel like Iâm playing with house money. I moved to town to be a songwriter and all I wanted to do is write songs,â says Davis, whose MCA Nashville album Bluebird Days comes out Friday (Feb. 17). âI think about those early goals, and I think about where Iâm at now, and Iâm just like, âGod is crazy. Heâs good. Iâm super, super blessed.ââ
Bluebird Days is an impressive 17-track set that includes 15 songs co-written by Davis that run the gamut from the spirited opening track, âDamn Good Time,â to the poignant homage to his grandfather, âFishing Spot,â to the title track, a haunting examination of his familyâs journey from happy times to the ache of his parentsâ divorce.
Bluebird Days is the Shreveport, Louisiana nativeâs second full length album, following 2018âs Home State, which spawned the Country Airplay No. 1s  âSingles You Up,â âSlow Dance in a Parking Lotâ and âTake it From Me.â Davis also released two EPs prior to Bluebird Days, including a 2020 self-titled set and a May 2021 release that included âBuy Dirt.â âBarring the two Covid years, I definitely think that we would have made a [full] record around the first EP,â he tells Billboard. âNot touring and being at home more took a little while to get used to, so my writing schedule got thrown off â not to mention shifted in what I was writing about.â
The deeper, more personal themes he tackles on Bluebird Days were a result of the downtime during the pandemic combined with the success of âBuy Dirt,â a multi-platinum duet with Luke Bryan that celebrated the things that truly matter in life and is included on Bluebird Days. âWhen you are touring, itâs hard not to stay in the touring mindset as you are writing a song,â he says. âYou start writing a song for a spot in the set and not necessarily just writing a song. With the space and with the time off, it allowed me to just truly sit down and write an honest real song. Without that time off, I donât think we would have written a lot of these songs that are on this album.â
In listening to Bluebird Days, Davis thinks people will recognize âthat weâre all pretty human.â Much of the album is written with frequent collaborators such as his producer Paul DiGiovanni, Josh Jenkins, Davisâ brother Jacob and Matt Jenkins (the latter three penned âBuy Dirtâ with Davis).
âWith us saying that we wanted to be honest with this album, there was no one foot in and kind of easing into this,â he explains. âItâs like, âAll right man, if weâre going to be honest, youâve just got to be honest,â whether itâd be talking about my temper on âShort Fuseâ or talking about the way I view money on âMoney Isnât Real,â how fast my kids are growing and the guilt I feel being gone half the year⌠thatâs all real stuff, and I know Iâm not the only person in the world thatâs going through that.â
In light of the recent accolades and success at radio, Davis admits he was a little apprehensive about his second full length effort, including picking âWhat My World Spins Aroundâ as the follow-up to âBuy Dirt.â âThe space between âBuy Dirtâ and âWhat My World Spins Aroundâ going to radio was the most nerveracking â and when âWhat My World Spins Aroundâ had the impact the way it did and ended up being a big song in its own right, I think that took a lot of the pressure off,â he says. âI was able to see I donât have to redo âBuy Dirtâ again â I just have to be honest and up front and real in the writing.â
To follow up âWhat My World Spins Around,â Davis says they almost went with another single before deciding to release âNext Thing You Know,â which Davis wrote with Greylan James, Chase McGill and Josh Osborne. âAfter a week of playing it live, I walked off stage one night and told my manager that Iâm an idiot if I donât give this song a chance at radio,â Davis says. âI donât know if Iâve had a song thatâs impacted the way this song has, even âBuy Dirt.â Itâs truly pretty special to watch. And it doesnât have a chorus, which is kind of weird. Itâs a totally linear story of life, but it doesnât matter if youâre 70, 50, 40 or 20 â you have a part in this song, and I truly feel like thatâs why so many people are gravitating to it.â
Even the songs he didnât write speak for him, including âMoney Isnât Real,â penned by Jake Mitchell, Jameson Rodgers, Josh Thompson, Sarah Turner. âI was trying to write this song called âWhen the Money Runs Out,â about, âWho you are going to be, what are people going to say about you, when the money runs out?â And I couldnât get it right,â Davis says. âJameson sent over âMoney Isnât Real,â and I remember being like, âHoly smokes! Iâve been trying to write this song for three years and you just sent me this song Iâve been trying to write.ââÂ
Danielle Bradbery joins Davis on âMidnight Crisis.â âThe first time I heard her sing, I was captivated, and sheâs just the sweetest person in the world,â he says. âI truly think sheâs on the verge of being one of the most powerful females in country music. I knew Danielle would crush it, and she was the only one we sent it to.â
Growing up in Louisiana, Davis was heavily influenced by the local sounds and acts coming through town. âThe special thing about Shreveport was it truly was a melting pot,â he says. âThere were places where you could go listen to traditional country. There were places that were doing writerâs rounds and clubs that would have rock bands. At 10-years-old, I was going to [defunct renowned Louisiana club] Western Sky because my Uncle Stan [Paul Davis] was playing there with his band. Texas country [acts] Robert Earl Keen and Pat Green would come play the casinos, and weâd go see them, and then jazz bands out of New Orleans would come up and me and my buddies would go see them. It was such a diverse musical city and I just pulled pieces from all that. I was lucky to grow up there.â
Initially, Davis didnât see himself on stage. Growing up, his brother Jacob was always the performer of the two siblings, following in the steps of their uncle, a local legend. âHe was playing all over Louisiana and I was just carrying his equipment in and out of venues,â Davis recalls. âSo when I moved to town, he was working on getting a record deal and I was trying to get a publishing deal.â
But Davis got discouraged when he saw his contemporaries landing publishing contracts that eluded him. Then a friend told him that songwriters who were also artists were much more attractive to publishing companies, and those were the writers who were getting signed. âI was like, âAll right, well, I want to be an artist too,ââ he says.  âI didnât want to bartend anymore. I wanted to just write songs.â
These days, heâs grateful to be doing writing and singing and spending time on the road playing his songs.  Heâs out with Thomas Rhett through February before heading to Europe to play the C2C festivals in March in London, Dublin and Glasgow. In the summer, Davis will tour with Dierks Bentley, and heâs planning a potential headlining tour for the fall. Â

Ado wants to be cool.Â
As the Japanese singer â who delivered one of the countryâs biggest hits in recent years â raced towards adulthood in 2022, however, she realized her definition of cool needed to evolve.Â
Within the span of years, the now-20-year-old singer had gone from being immersed in Japanâs Vocaloid culture â a genre of music that uses a synthesizing software to make vocals and melodies alike â to an utaite (singers who cover songs by other artists) â to unwittingly becoming the voice of a generation, when her viral 2020 hit âUssewaaâ pegged her as the antithesis to the dull routine of adult life. This was all without a physical release and while keeping her identity completely under wraps, which is not uncommon in utaite culture.Â
âUnderstanding the latest trends/ Checking the stock market on my way to work/ Joining a company with pure spirit/ These are the obvious rules for us workers,â she spits on the frenzied electro-rock track, which thumps and pulses and simmers with rage born from helplessness and monotony. She had spent most of her career in a silo, sometimes recording songs in a closet inside her home. At first, âcoolâ meant brazenly rejecting societal expectations. In her own words, the brash, scathing sound was born from a primal need to resist the hierarchy.
âIt was a rebellion against adults and this society, and I really wanted to win,â she tells Billboard. Yet here she was â joining the very contingent sheâd scoffed at for the better part of her career.
But Ado is not like most young adults. In fact, she comes with a disarming quietude that most would struggle to reconcile with the pumping anger and scorn of her songs. As time pushed her closer to the other side of the threshold, she felt it was the right moment to broaden her perspective.Â
Like any teenager, she had once thought that screaming at the top of her lungs, pouring visceral resentment into her songs and outright rejecting the idea of conformity was the way to achieve that. Ask her about it now, sheâd probably laugh and say that emotion without self-awareness is a rebel without a cause. âWhen I started out, I was quite immature,â she admits. âI really wanted to be taken seriously.âÂ
As she expanded her vision for Ado, the artist, throughout 2022, some of her own dreams came true. She released her debut album Kyougen, which peaked at No. 9 on the Billboard Japan Hot Albums chart, and then repeated her success with Utaâs Songs: One Piece Film Red, which reached no. 1 on the same chart.Â
Sheâs come to approach her music as less of an outlet and more as an instrument for inspiration: âGoing towards the end of the year, I really had proof â through the work that I did, through my performance, through my songs, and getting through challenges mentally as well as within myself â that I had grown. I felt like I leveled up in a huge way.â Her small wins, she says, assured her that she was on the right path.
At first, it sounds like a betrayal of the âyoung, wild, and freeâ ethos sheâs come to embody, a proverbial âif you canât beat âem, join âemâ mentality. She would disagree: Sheâs only becoming more conscientious, not replacing the primordial emotion that underlines her music. Itâs an important part of being cool, you see: â[Cool people] are ready to take responsibility for who they are and what they do.âÂ
With one Japanese tour just weeks behind her, and her new Mars arena tour on the horizon â which will take her to 14 venues across Japan between June and September 2023 â Ado sat down with Billboard to discuss her career and growth.Â
Youâve just wrapped up a series of shows across Japan. How are you feeling?Â
It was pretty tough, but I was able to connect with my fans and hear their voices. Even though it was tough, when I got on stage, I forgot about everything. Concerts are really fun to do!Â
What aspects of it did you think were tough?Â
First of all, I have to say travel. Because youâre moving to so many different places, and then you have to go on stage â of course, being on the stage is fun, but itâs repetitive. You have to be your best self over and over again on stage, each night. That was a bit tough. It was really sort of an internal battle with myself.
You actually did a stream recently where you mentioned that you donât like looking at performances of yourself. Why is that?
Thatâs right. Itâs really uncomfortable for me. I really donât like seeing myself in [any] media form â concerts, photos, video footage. Even if thereâs a slight shadow of myself or a flicker, I just want to shut down the computer or turn it around so I donât have to see it.
In that case, how are you preparing for the possibility of becoming more and more famous? I imagine as you are going to be performing at different venues, thereâs chances of photos or videos.Â
Iâm quite aware that Ado is loved by the fans, but for some reason⌠I do equate myself with Ado, the artist, so I do know that Iâm loved and people like what I do. But even if I know [what] their objective view [is], the fansâ view of me from the third person and my subjective view [of myself] in the first person, they donât equate. They donât match up. So I think there is a discrepancy there.
That sounds like you had trouble loving yourself at some point, even if the fans love you.Â
You are right in your assumption. I think, at some point, I would really love to be able to look at the footage or photos of myself and think itâs all great and really appreciate myself. See myself the way the fans see me. I think that would make everything much more fun, but Iâm not quite there yet.Â
Is that one of your goals for 2023?Â
Yes. Not just on an emotional level of just loving myself, but Iâd like to be able to achieve that this year through improving my skills.Â
Thereâs not a lot of live performance videos that youâve uploaded from the tour, except for the one at the Saitama Super Arena. What was special about that performance?Â
The Saitama Super Arena, for me, is really valuable and meaningful because it was the day that my dream came true â and because it came true, it encouraged me to keep singing. So, that concert was very important in my life. Thatâs why I wanted more people to see it.Â
This reminds me of a video you uploaded sometime ago, titled âTo Everyone Who Was Born In 2002,â where you talked about a blue rose and how it signified dreams coming true. How did you relate to it, especially in context of last year?Â
Actually, originally, when we had the design for my image, it was only a long-haired girl. There was no rose in the character design. Then, somewhere along the line, we added a red rose and we went with that for a while. Then, I started looking into blue roses and the significance behind them â 2022 was when that happened. Then, I realized that it was connected to dreams coming true, and that message really appealed to me. So I thought: âIâll use this motifâ. Thatâs why I wear the blue rose on my chest, near my heart.Â
What do you think youâve been trying to achieve in your music and have those goals changed from your debut till now?
In the beginning, I was expressing that emotional anger quite strongly [through my music]. I really wanted to be taken seriously, and it was a rebellion against adults and this society of adults, and I really wanted to win. Having said that, now Iâm 20, and I have become an adult. When I started out, it was quite immature. Now, as opposed to anger being the main motivation, itâs about motivating kids or young people for their dreams to come true. If they have dreams, maybe I could symbolize that, or inspire them to make their dreams come true.Â
I like that you brought up being an adult. When I was watching âTo Everyone Who Was Born in 2002,â I wondered: were you at all disappointed by adulthood not being all that itâs chalked up to be?Â
Iâm not sure if the word âdisappointmentâ is correct â but when I tried being an adult, I realized that you [canât] just switch it on and off. When I was 19, I realized itâs more like a state of mind that you gradually move into. So, when I did become 20, I wasnât really shocked or hugely disappointed, but I thought that I wasnât self-aware enough yet. I grapple with that at the moment as well. But, I will leave it to my future self. I think my future self will be okay.Â
Vocaloid producer Ine recently spoke about you in an interview, and he thought you were very cool. Youâve mentioned before that you want to be a âcoolâ artist â what do you think makes an artist cool?
I would say first of all, voice is really important to me. And if they are a songwriter, it would be their choice of words. [But] I really do think itâs about their state of mind and who they are as a person. I think thatâs also a big part of being cool â that theyâre ready to take responsibility for who they are and what they do.Â
Sometime ago, you got really emotional in a stream because, in 2022, you hadnât been able to put out a lot of utaite songs. Did you feel like you were losing touch with your roots?Â
Yes, I think I was very used to releasing utaite music, and [in 2022] compared to a lot of my other releases, it was much less. So, I think I was a bit emotional and sad about that.Â
2022 was a big year for Vocaloid as well. One of the things that happened was Billboard Japan launching their Nico Nico Vocaloid Chart. In his interview, Ine said that he was excited but also scared about the development, because Vocaloid originally symbolized a community of people who made music because they loved it. He said: âWhen thereâs the potential for your creations to be recognized for their quality, it also highlights the fact that your creations arenât getting recognized.â Do you share his emotions?Â
Ine-san is a producer, and I am an utaite, so there might be a difference [in approach] there, but personally, I am not really scared. But⌠I can understand as a producer why he would [say that]. Regarding the chart itself being established, I think itâs amazing, because it shows how much Vocaloid music is loved, and many people want to hear it. So, I am really excited about the future of Vocaloid music.Â
Ahead of the Grammys this weekend, best new artist nominee Anitta is back for part two of her Billboard interview, sharing more of the backstory along with her plans for the next phase of her career.
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âI really wanted this because I heard so many times that it was impossible, and I wanted to prove that it was not, someone can do this,â Anitta says of the days she spent hustling in her native Brazil to make her career happen. When she was faced with the argument that Brazilians couldnât cross over in the States, she says she simply âcould not accept it.â
She tracks her hustling days, recalling the era when sheâd perform in Brazil on Friday, Saturday and Sunday then fly to the States to network during the week, before flying back to Brazil to play shows on the weekend, all while taking English lessons and doing studio sessions in English to get used to recording in the language. âIt was crazy,â she says, adding that she was âso tired.â
But of course, the work paid off, with Anitta crossing over in the States, particularly upon the release of her 2022 album, Versions of Me, and its big single âEnvolver.â Of this success, Anitta says fans in her home country âare super happy and very supportive of me, whenever âEnvolverâ was starting to get really really big on the charts out of Brazil, the Brazilians, they saw it and were like, âIf you love your nation, youâve gotta play this song.â ⌠When it was No. 1 global, it was a holiday.â
Anitta also reveals that she âfor sure, definitelyâ will end her singing career in the next five or six years, saying that she loves âchange, challenges and trying news thingsâ and is eager to develop her acting career. (She notes that sheâs already been invited to appear in a number of films.)
Given her penchant for both hustle and success, money is on Anitta achieving anything she sets out to get. Watch the complete interview above, and tune in to the 65th annual Grammy Awards on Sunday night at 8 p.m. ET/5 p.m. PT on CBS to see if Anitta wins for best new artist.

Ozzy Osbourne earned four Grammy nominations for his Patient Number 9 album, and he tells Billboard that the nods were an unexpected, yet welcome, surprise.
âThe whole thing shocked me,â he says in a new interview with Lyndsey Havens. âI mean, if I won anything for the album Iâll be floored.â
âThatâs what I like about the business. Itâs never short of â I love surprises,â he adds in the clip of the Q&A above.
Osbourne says heâs âkind of excited for being nominated for the best rock albumâ for Patient Number 9, which topped Billboardâs Top Rock Albums chart in September. Heâs also nominated for best rock song and best rock performance, for the song âPatient Number 9â featuring Jeff Beck, as well as best metal performance for âDegradation Rulesâ with Tony Iommi. (A full list of nominations for the 2023 Grammy Awards can be seen here.)
Asked whether heâll prepare a speech or wing it on Grammy night, should he win any awards, Osbourne admits that giving speeches isnât really his specialty.
âIâm not good at making speeches,â he says. âI always end up saying it twice or blowing it or whatever. Iâm sure my wife will have it worked out. Behind me is my wife. My wife pulls my strings.â
Elsewhere in the interview, the 74-year-old rocker noted that the albumâs title, Patient Number 9, is âme, I suppose. The last four years have been sheer hell for me. Iâve been in such a bad⌠healthwise. Plus I got [a] Parkinsonâs diagnosis. But Iâm, you know, takes a lot to hold me down.â
Watch the full interview in the video above.
Daniel Vangarde has lived a fascinating life. Heâs lived at least three of them, in fact.
His first act was as a producer, A&R and all-around catalyst for some of the most popular European disco and funk acts of the 1970s and â80s, shifting millions of copies. Since the late 2000s heâs been residing and working in a Brazilian village of 750 people, teaching English, computer literacy, vocational skills and a range of artistic expression.
Somewhere in the middle he gave birth to a son, Thomas Bangalter, who also made some decent records himself.
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Vangarde (born Bangalter) helped guide the early movements of Daft Punk, at a time when the pre-Homework duo had magic in their fingertips but hadnât yet mastered the close control of image and narrative which forged their mystique. Vangarde doled out critical advice to Thomas, Guy-Manuel and a coterie of close friends in the â90s Parisian scene, instilling in them the requisite knowledge to play the industry game on their own terms and better enabling them to sculpt their consequential destiny.
Then followed a high-profile battle with Franceâs publishing and rights society, SACEM, over both restrictive practices for modern artists and historical aberrations for post-World War II remuneration to Jewish musicians. Sufficiently content with both his own success and the imprint he left on the next generation, Vangarde retreated into silence, only fleetingly emerging when required (including a trip to the 2014 Grammy Awards, where he watched his son clean up). There were no plans to issue communiquĂŠs with the music ecosystem â until now.
Following a deal with powerhouse French label Because Music, the vaults of Vangardeâs Zagora Records have been busted open. The resultant compilation, Daniel Vanguarde: The Vaults of Zagora Records Mastermind (1971â-â1984), out Nov. 25 on Because Music, should re-situate him in a lineage of discotheque-pleasers with a taste for suave, symphonic and Star Wars-influenced material that bristles with joie de vivre. The comp is surprisingly tight for an era which left no excess untested; itâs not a stretch to say, from the colorway of his suit down to his perm, the Daniel Vangarde peering out from the cover might just have been the model for Disco Stu.
Having undertaken the grand sum of zero English-language interviews for 75 years, Vangarde made himself available to Billboard from the deep Bahian forests for an extremely rare and rather charming conversation about it all.
One thing thatâs clear across your life is a fascination with culture and society outside of your own. You produced artists from the French Antilles and the West Indies, kickstarted a cossack dance craze in the late â60s, and latterly founded an NGO. Where does this curiosity stem from?
I always liked traveling: I spent 10 summers of my adolescence in Costa Brava [Spain], visited Swinging London, and in 1966 hitchhiked from New York down to Mexico in order to visit the Tarahumara. Life felt like an adventure.
In 1971, I happened upon Guadeloupe and loved it â the people, the place, and the local rhythmic music, biguine, which I took back to work on in Paris. Throughout trips to Kathmandu, Bali and Malaysia in the â70s, my love for African, Arabian, South American and other music outside the French or Anglo-Saxon tradition kept growing.
What were your dreams for the world back then?
Ah, that is easy. I was curious about the globe and completely against war. I was politically active from a young age. I was arrested during the student revolution in â68 and spent three nights in a jail cell without light. That was very frightening. They say there were no deaths but I am certain this is untrue, there was great violence. For years afterward I had to cross the street whenever I saw a policeman, you know?
You had post-traumatic stress?
Yes, yes, it was this: it was post-traumatic stress. But I stayed against nuclear factories, against the Algerian War and successfully avoided my own military service. I did not change my point of view that mass consumption is a dead-end of civilization. In 1968, we had spiritual belief in a more open future. Today we have realism about our present moment, and that is what it is.
When you were 25, you and longtime collaborator Jean Kluger came up with Yamasuki, a faux-Japanese project whose only release is still pored over by record collectors and DJs like Four Tet. Why did you decide to jump into the deep end with such a specific concept?
After the success of âCasatschok,â I was mostly considered a choreographer. Shows about kung fu were beginning to sweep through television, so Kluger and I thought about creating a Japanese dance, which we called Yamasuki, but the great sound of the music caught on more. We really got into a Japanese mindset: I bought an English-to-Japanese phrasebook, we learned phonetic pronunciation and taught a childrenâs choir lyrics in Japanese. We even hired a karate master to deliver a shout of death [kiai] â except he had no sense of rhythm, so I would stand in the studio, cueing him when to shout⌠and trembling on the other side of the mic.
As disco became popular globally, and you had French artists like Cerrone winning Grammy Awards for Best New Artist, was there any competition or jealousy? Or did you regard them as your peers?
Peers, totally. There was no competition at all. If there was any competition, in fact, it was with American and English production. I never used a mastering studio; I would be there at the Phillips factory, watching the acetate get pressed, making sure the sound was impeccable. Cerrone, he was not a friend, but we would see each other at the discotheques when taking our new records to the DJ for promotion. The same applies for Jacques Morali {the disco producer responsible for the Village People] â at this time, for the French to have success away from home was a great feeling.
Some of the records you worked on were massive. âD.I.S.C.O.â was the third biggest-seller of 1980 in Germany and the fifth in the UK; the Gibson Brothers sold millions of copies; youâve been sampled and covered by Erykah Badu, Bananarama, Roger Sanchez â itâs a legacy of success by any other name. Did that come as a surprise to you?
I will say that when I started to make songs, I wanted to write to The Beatles and tell them that there should be five members. [Laughs] I was this certain that I could bring something to them. I imagine that maybe everybody that records hopes that his music will be understood and appreciated by the public. But even if I was expecting success, I recognize itâs a great privilege to live your life off of music.
Daniel Vangarde With The Gibson Brothers
Courtesy of Daniel Vangarde
What was your relationship to fame throughout all this?
I only did one LP as a frontman, which had the privilege of being banned on radio and television. The lyrics concerned how France is the third biggest producer of bombs and mines. Of course, thatâs a state secret, so the record was buried, and I was never a frontman again. But thatâs alright: I was an author, composer and producer; an artisan. I sought no fame, no show business. A reporter asked me recently: âSo you live your life in the shadows?â And I said, âNo! I live in the light, normally, like you do.â
Interest in the Zagora reissue is however fun to me, because I was not fashionable at all. I produced La Compagnie CrĂŠole, a very big band in the â80s, and we could sell out three nights at LâOlympia but I could never once get a journalist to come see the show. Thatâs just how it was then. If itâs not chanson, itâs not serious. In France, popular music is suspicious.
By the time your career wound down around 1990, was the love for music still present? Was it a creative rupture or a decision to be with your family?
Truthfully, I was not producing music that excited me, and I thought it unwise to carry on. When making a hit my hands would become wet while mixing, and a physical sensation would overtake my belly. So if I was not feeling anything, why would anyone else? Also, there was a new generation doing dance music, and of course this was very close for me.
Yes, on that note⌠perhaps no one in the last 10 years has done more to kickstart the revival of disco and analog production than your son, Thomas. Why do you think that era has swept back into the public consciousness?
I can see why. Nothing replaces rhythm. Songs that you can dance to, with a melody you can sing â not rap, not techno, not even Daft Punk can compete with this human response to a good feeling. There are different chapels today: you have country radio, rap radio, rock radio, but the old repertoire has maintained.
What aggregates the masses are famous hits, and disco was the last of this kind of music. When they decided that disco was over and they started to burn the records [1979âs infamous bonfire of hate, Disco Demolition], I thought it was a joke, because I never thought happy, dancing music could possibly fade. And when disco came back, I realized it hadnât faded after all.
Your know-how helped ground not only a young Daft Punk, but also their peers Phoenix and Air, all of whom credit your advice with allowing them to navigate the music biz and retain creative freedom.
I think all artists should have this freedom. I helped Thomas, Guy-Man and their friends as much as I could to allow them to release without barriers. They were only 20 years old and the industry could have squeezed them â a normal contract generates interference between your work and the time itâs released. I made an introduction to my English lawyer, who is still [Daft Punkâs] lawyer today, and advised them not to let the authorâs rights society in France authorize their music for film or publicity. My input was to help create a good environment that allowed them to produce freely.
Daniel Vangarde
Courtesy of Daniel Vangarde
Do you think the industry is a better place for young artists now than it was in the â90s, or the â70s? Or is it contingent on who you are?
Thatâs difficult to say. I think the music industry is in a terrible situation, not because of the internet, but because record companies and publishers didnât know how to use the internet. When I helped Thomas set up Daft Club [a groundbreaking hub for digital downloads and fan service, released in tandem with 2001âs Discovery] even then, many considered the internet science fiction for geeks. And what was the result?
They should have contracted the hackers! The best guy from Napster should have been contracted by record companies to organize a new paid system. At a time when people paid $10-20 for an LP, of course they would have accepted paying $1 instead. But the industry did nothing, music became like free air, and once the value collapsed to zero for many years, it was hard to come back from this.
In the â70s, the artistic directors of a record company or programmers of a radio station held all the control. So I didnât think it was good then. But I canât say itâs better today either. Itâs difficult for true talent to break through or generate wealth in the same fashion as before.
As youâve never given interviews, your working practice from that era is lost. I mean â Bangalter now rings with a uniqueness and star quality, so why did you use Vangarde as your professional surname?
I wanted to allow future Thomas to use Bangalter! No, I chose a pen name in case I had success; I did not wish to book a hotel or restaurant and be recognized. Why Vangarde? Originally I had prepared Morane, the name of a small French plane in the early 1900s. But on the day of registration with SACEM, this was already taken, so I was given one minute to change. I quickly thought of another plane called the Vanguard, and this stuck by complete accident.
Youâve been distant from your own catalog for so long. Why now?
Iâm afraid itâs not very romantic. I have known Emmanuel [de Buretel, kingpin of French electronic music] since he was 25. When Because Music showed interest in buying Zagora Records and releasing some old tracks, I trusted them, and said, âYouâll be the owner of the catalog, so if you want to, yes.â As I have never done photos or interviews, I did not expect interest at all. I could even not remember some of their choices, so I had to go on YouTube and listen back as I was certain these were not my songs! To see any reaction has been a huge shock. Because made a very good decision.
So you never considered what youâd like your legacy to be?
I think I will not die. I have songs that I did 50 years ago that are still popular. If people are happy when they hear the songs and go to dance, or go to see the bands still touring, they do not die. This is the answer of my legacy.
And are you satisfied?
Yes, Iâm very happy. I have the privilege to do what I want, and a good personal life⌠in the shadows. [Laughs] I have a good relationship with Thomas and now I have two grandchildren. One is 20 years old and the other is 14 â I love them. I go on being free and having my health. What more can I ask for?
While some of historyâs greatest artists have a distinct look for fans to recall instantly, many musical greats are shape-shifting chameleons, finding different looks, styles and eras throughout their careers.
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TENÂ falls strictly in the latter category, with the Thailand-born K-pop star using his songs and music videos to express the different creative concepts, characters, and, at times, confusion inside his mind.
After trying out shouty punk-pop with âPaint Me Naked,â festival-ready EDM on âNew Heroes,â and the hypnotic âDream in a Dreamâ with fusions of traditional East-Asian instruments, TEN has paired sultry R&B sound with vigorous group choreography. His new single âBirthdayâ dropped as part of the NCT LAB project under K-pop super-label SM Entertainment to spotlight the different members in its ever-expanding NCT boy-band project that currently boasts 23 members.
While TEN has already proven his superstar status as a part of groups like WayV and NCT U, as well as one of seven members in SMâs K-pop supergroup SuperM that hit No. 1 on the Billboard 200, TEN refuses to sit comfortably as an artist.
âI get bored easily and the audience will get bored of me doing the same thing,â the singer says during a Zoom call from Seoul. âSo I keep finding what kind of stuff I havenât done yet.â
Wrapped in a flannel shirt for this giggly Billboard interview, TENâs bubbly warmness strays far from the seductive, slithering soloist rocking chains and veils throughout the âBirthdayâ video. Even as TEN speaks with a lightness, there is compelling duality in his seriousness in accepting who he is while simultaneously wanting to level up in his work. Even when the star admits heâs lost inspiration, thereâs still a guiding force pushing TEN into new, creative areas.
Read more from TEN on all the vocal, thematic and dance elements behind âBirthdayâ and what else is on the way.
Billboard: Congratulations on the new song. âBirthdayâ is your fourth solo single, whatâs the difference this time compared to past releases?
TEN: This song has no connection with my past singles or whatever you see in âPaint Me Nakedâ or âNew Hero.â Theyâre different in genre, style, makeup, and choreography. Even the use of my vocals changed. Iâm not really interested in doing the same thing over again, like this deep and strong vocal thatâs at the same time very soft. If you listen to the verses, Iâm using a lower register and then a high falsetto on the chorus. I want to show the contrast between strong and soft.
Iâm glad you brought that up because it was a great vocal performance and something we havenât heard from you before. Was it a challenge or did you know how to approach it?
I did find recording the vocals very challenging because R&B is different, you know? âPaint Me Nakedâ is a pop song so you just hit the melody, which is simpler than R&B because when you sing R&B you need to have that delay and draw things out. At first, I was singing it similar to âBirthday,â but I thought, âThis is not how I want it to sound.â So, we re-recorded after I listened to more R&B songs to see how they ride the rhythm. And I was trying too hard at first, but the next session was just chill; I just felt the lyrics, listened, and laid back.
There are many NCT members and a lot of SM Entertainment artists, but it seems like we can always look forward to a TEN single each year. Do these opportunities come because you always try to show something new?
I keep finding new concepts by watching movies, looking at tattoo pictures from Instagram, other artistsâ photoshoots, fashion shows. If you see luxury brandsâ fashion shows, they have their own concept and each year it changes. Iâm into that. Iâll say, âOkay, I like this kind of stuff so let me keep it to myself, look at other stuff and mix it together.â
Do you save a lot of things on Instagram?Â
I take a lot of screenshots on my phone! I was even watching an animation recently and was like, âOkay, I like this concept, let me do it like this guy here, then let me use this color as an outfitâŚâ
How much of your inspirations came out in âBirthdayâ?
I was very lucky at this time with all the people that help me make âBirthday.â They really asked for my opinions, âWhat kind of stuff do you want to represent? How do you want to express yourself?â I chose all four outfits. Thereâs the suit because I want to show a mature side of me. Another one had the chain on my chest, an essential look; I need one look that is very sexy. The other one is an outfit where I wear a hat and thereâs a black sheet covering my face. Itâs a traditional, flowy kind of outfit because I donât want to only show mature sides.
I wanted to show the fluid side of me too. It was very hard to find a lot of references at that time, it took me a week to find everything that I wanted, but I sent it to my stylist and video directing team. They just say, âOkay, let us figure everything out for you.â We had a lot of talking going on during the making.
Tell me about the choreography.
This one is mainly by my friends Bada Lee and Jrick [Baek]. They really helped make my vision come to life. I told them how there are a lot of K-pop groups out there with choreography that has a signature move. But for this one, I didnât want it to be like that, I wanted it to be like artwork. I want fans to see little sparkles in the choreography and say, âOh, I like that moment.â
Do you have a favorite moment throughout the whole video?Â
Well, the first verse is very challenging for me. You can see the full choreography in the dance video and in the first verse there are so many B-boy-like moves. I got bruises all over my body, itâs very hard. But what was best about that is that I was working with my dancer friends on moves I canât do alone. Weâre all in contact as they pull me up, I kick out, thereâs like a waveâitâs not just me doing the work but we are all connected as a team.
Like âBirthdayâ or âPaint Me Naked,â your songs are confident in their elements of sexuality. Itâs not raunchy but very free and open. How do you prepare your mindset in these kinds of performances?
Wow, well, I donât really think about that much. Itâs like, âOkay, I want to wear these clothes.â Itâs just me. This is my body and this is how I want to express it. Wearing too many clothes sometimes in dancing can block your body line. I donât want to feel like Iâm not confident with my body so I was like, âLetâs just do it.â Thatâs why I donât really do fitness or try to build muscle for certain clothes. Iâm skinny so thatâs just me. I donât need to build it up to impress someone else.
You want to show your natural self.
Yes, but maybe a little exercise for my belly fat. [Laughs] Just a little!
Oh, come on! Donât worry about that. It sounds that youâve found confidence in your own body which is great because many struggle with that.
Itâs like, everyone has a charm, but Iâm still trying to learn how to use mine. I also think about being seductive, right? In music videos, you can try everythingâyou canât really do that in real life but thereâs no right and wrong in the music video. Itâs just, âLetâs try.â
Itâs your opportunity to try things because everyone knows TENâs personality as very bubbly. But on stage, you become very different.
Thank you. It just speaks to a different character of myself and the right time for me to express myself. I canât do it at any time.
You mentioned you donât want to be too covered up when dancing. I was wondering about the hat and veil look. Was it difficult to master that look?Â
The veil was not the problem, but the hat kept falling off while dancing. I had to fix my hat all the time, but itâs fun to dance with a hat like that. I felt like Iâm a mystery guy and no one knows me.
Outfits can help people to feel more confident. A different outfit helps you represent yourself and your personality differently. It helped me become that character. Every outfit has its own reason that I choose it, and I like every outfit, but this time the hat outfit is what I really enjoyed wearing. It really helped me embrace the concept. âBirthdayâ has a very strong drum and bass sound, but that outfit kind of helped to soften it down and become a bit more mysterious.
After âBirthday,â fans were saying they want a full album from you. Would that be something youâd be interested in?
Yes, I would. I love working as a team, but I also want to do my solo stuff because you can put in your thoughts and personality. Even though I sometimes didnât write my song, I can check out the demos and say, âOkay. I want to try this or try that.â And when you read the lyrics, itâs like acting. Youâre trying to change yourself for that song as you work on it. Itâs like, a song can be very groovy or hip-hop orâcan I say swag?âswag.
I can simply work on the song process and itâs going to be a lot of fun. As a group itâs also fun, but itâs different. As a team, you put in the element of yourself but youâre still trying to be in motion with your team. Both are fun for me to work so I have to do both.
Speaking of your teams, do you have any teasers about whatâs coming with WayV and NCT?
Right now, WayV is preparing for their new comeback. And I canât spoil anything about NCT yet. If I spoiled it, Mark will send me a text, âHyung! Bro. What did you just say?!â
We canât have Mark upset with us. But as we look to the end of the year, are there any ways you want people to remember you in 2022?
Right now, Iâm just focusing on myself. To be honest, I donât know what happened to me but I need more motivation right now. I need to inspire myself. After I filmed âBirthday,â I lost track of something that I donât even know so Iâm kind of figuring that out. I want to improve myself in singing and dancing so I can get to do more unique concepts and better songs in terms of a different genre.
If I donât practice for that, itâs going to be harder for me to do different kinds of stuff. So, thatâs my goal for this year to improve myself and figure out stuff that Iâd been thinking about lately. The process for âBirthdayâ helped me to focus again and be more creative with my work. It was like a fuel that helped keep my engine moving.
Thatâs very honest. Many struggled with motivation during the pandemic, for example. Do you know what happened? Or do you have advice on how to get over the hump?
I think everyone has that moment in life. So, I donât really think about it that much, I just need to figure it out. I donât know what it is and I donât know if Iâd be able to give helpful advice to those who might be feeling down because realistically everyone has their own problems or confusion that only they can relate to.
But for me, I sit down, breathe slowly and talk to myself by asking myself questions in order to break down the situation into small fractions and better understand. That does help me figure things out most of the time! Sometimes I have these moments but itâs happening to me, like, now. So, let me figure it out and then I can tell you next time.Â

After years of playing catch up, Louis Tomlinson is finally two steps ahead of himself.
The former One Direction memberâs solo career thus far has seen him adopting a trial-and-error approach to discovering the exact formula that would bring out the best of him as a leading musician. He tested the post-band waters early on with collaborations that adhered more to what he thought was expected of him, then packaged his understanding of grief, resilience, and romance into his self-reflective debut album Walls. He only got to perform two live shows after the recordâs January 2020 release before the pandemic sent him packing, but those stops in Barcelona and Madrid were enough for him to realize that was the secret ingredient: the fans, the volume, the energy.Â
Tomlinson kept the prospect of presenting his follow-up, Faith in the Future, to an audience at the front of his mind while creating the album, but he also gave himself the grace to allow the record to come to him in creative waves, rather than racing to an impending finish line. He didnât need to catch up to where he, or anyone else, thought he should be: It was more a matter of coming to an understanding of a clear, cohesive goal and mapping out a blueprint to achieve it.Â
What emerged from Tomlinsonâs intuitive writing and recording process was a pop/rock-oriented collection of songs that the singer says refueled his confidence and added layers of depth to the musical presentation of his mindâs inner workings. With the sophomore solo set arriving today (Nov. 11), the singer-songwriter answered Billboardâs 20 questions about communicating his creative vision to new collaborators, maintaining an authentic connection with his fans, and leaving ego out of his songwriting and live shows.
1. Youâre in the process of filming a documentary â do you have a favorite music documentary that youâve seen?
Theyâve done two or three, but thereâs an amazing Red Hot Chili Peppers one on YouTube, forget what itâs called. Theyâre making one of the albums. As a music fan, [itâs] just really, really interesting to watch through the process â and especially, you know, a band that are very different to anything Iâve ever experienced. So really inspiring and interesting.Â
2. How does the process of capturing your life on film contextualize how you reflect on your growth and progress?Â
Itâs funny, really, because any time Iâve been watching different edits of it, you look at it in quite a clinical manner. Youâre very aware that itâs you and itâs your story. But I think at the moment, because itâs kind of not finished, youâre looking with different eyes. So Iâm sure once itâs finished and I really take all those emotions in, that it will be interesting, definitely. But at the moment, yeah, Iâm just a little bit more clinical trying to work out exactly how to mold it.
3. How has using emotion and honesty in your songwriting gotten you to the point of being able to write a song like âChicago,â or to incorporate reflections on platonic relationships like on âThatâs the Way Love Goesâ?
Thatâs always been like me bread and butter, really â honesty within lyric. But I suppose Iâve used it in different ways over the years. I think for me, especially on this record, I didnât want to make everything feel like a romantic love song. And thereâs a way of talking about love without feeling so soppy and fâking romantic â like, look how we do on âThatâs the Way Love Goes.â Youâre talking to a friend whoâs going through something about a relationship and still thereâs an element of love in there, you know?Â
But I think it was just about me expressing myself and trying to think with a little bit more depth. I think itâs the easiest concept to come up with, probably â love songs. But I think I wanted to be broader on this record. I wanted to say more. I wanted to have more interesting concepts. But I do think honesty, itâs always kind of come naturally to me. What I did a little bit different on this record was I tried to write a little bit outside of myself and looking at other people and peopleâs situations, or imagining a different situation. So not writing completely from personal experience, trying to be broader with that.Â
4. What was the experience of creating Faith in the Future like in comparison to Walls?
I think that was a lot of me working out who I was coming out of the band. And itâs not to say I wasnât true to myself in the band, but I was in that band and I was part of that band â it wasnât just me. It took a second to me to work that development stage out, whereas I think I did have a clearer picture on this record. And writing the first album, I canât remember the period of time that I wrote it, but it was a long period of time from when I wrote the first song, which I believe was âWe Made Itâ to the last song, which was maybe âOnly the Brave.â That was a long time in between that, and it meant that I didnât really build up any momentum.Â
Iâm immensely proud of those songs, but at times when I listen to the album, it kind of lacks that consistency and fluidity. And thatâs because, you know, when I was writing the songs, it was over a big chunk of my life. Lots of stuff happening to me. So at times it was moving around conceptually. Whereas I think this record, every song is about something slightly different. But I think there is something, thereâs the element of change that keeps coming back. Thereâs definitely a lot of nostalgia in there, because Iâve been thinking about getting older and all that kind of thing. So I think there is a kind of invisible concept that ties it all together, if you know what I mean.Â
5. Who are your dream collaborators?Â
I think it probably wouldnât be a traditional collaboration. I mean, maybe like, a cool guitarist on the record or a co-producer who produced some of the albums that I love. I mean, Mike Crossey, he was kind of that guy â he produced âBigger Than Meâ and a few of the songs, you know, heâs worked with a lot of the bands that I grew up listening to. Iâve never really got me eye on collaborations, I think, âcause I did a bit at the start of me career. Now, itâs more about showing who I am. Iâm sure Iâll come back around to that, but my brainâs not really on that wave at the moment. Â
6. Tell me about how you chose your collaborators for this record. Whatâs the most important aspect of an artist-producer relationship for you?
Well, first, I wanted to work with people who make the music that I really love listening to, and that hasnât always been the case. Iâve also not been lucky enough to be in those rooms before this album, mainly. So the benefit of working with artists and producers that work within the space that A) I want to be in and B) that I listen to, obviously just everything just feels more natural. And also, even getting in the room with these people, it builds your confidence. You feel good about what youâre doing. And so in terms of the process, it wasnât quite as regimented this time around.Â
When we wrote âShe Is Beauty We Are World Class, âSaturdays,â âSilver Tonguesâ â it was over like three or four days. There was no rushing around for anything. Just when we wanted to write, we wrote. Because itâs difficult sometimes when you sit down in a session and youâre working from 9:00 til 5:00 and you think, âI need a song by the end of the day.â It kind of stains the air creatively. So it was nice with this album having the flexibility of taking the time with each song and not forcing and just letting it come naturally.Â
7. Because you had that space to experiment, were there trial and error moments where you tried something out that you thought maybe might work but didnât as well as you thought it would?Â
For me, it was more in reverse. It was more about taking a risk musically, listening back to it and thinking, âWell, at the time that felt like a risk, but actually listening back, I think I can go further and further and further and further.â And thatâs kind of the way that I worked with this record. There wasnât necessarily anything that we tried that didnât work out. I havenât really thought about it, but I suppose Iâm pretty lucky.
I think itâs because there was an element of trial and error â but it was much more trial and error on the first record. Whereas this, I had a clear idea of what I wanted, and because I had the live show fresh in my mind, Iâm trying to create these interesting live moments. So I just had a much clearer picture in my head.
8. How do you go about communicating that idea of the live show to the people that youâre in the studio with in order to bring that to life?
Itâs another massive benefit of working with artists. They know what it feels like to be on stage. They know about that connection, they know how important it is â they understand a setlist, they understand different moments in the show, etc., etc.. Itâs a really natural thing. And also, you know, even not as artists, weâve all as music fans had great experiences going to watch live music. So itâs just drawing on all those memories, really, and trying to capitalize on the unbelievable atmosphere of every show. The crowd. Iâm so fâing lucky to have such a great crowd at every show, so I wanted to make a record to match that.
9. Does that more live-oriented, industrial, Brit-rock sound communicate something through the music that a more structured kind of pop couldnât?Â
For me, it goes back to what I kind of grew up listening to and still listen to today. I think on my first records, I was slightly closed-minded in terms of the sounds that I used. And I think it was important for me on this record to be more interesting sonically. And also, you know again, that serves the live show, thatâs going to give more depth to the live show. So it was definitely a conscious decision while still trying to maintain an identity that kind of runs throughout the record.Â
10. What was the last song you listened to?
Let me have a look, I think youâve got a history these days, donât you? On your Apple Music? This better be fâking good now. Oh, âNotion,â Kings of Leon.
11. Whatâs your favorite album to listen to from top to bottom?
AM [by] Arctic Monkeys has got to be up there. Probably [their] Favourite Worst Nightmare, as well. Those two albums were absolutely massive for me growing up, so yeah, letâs go with them. Trying to think of a more recent one. The Snutsâ debut album, I absolutely loved. I loved their follow up as well.Â
12. Youâve gotten some pushback a couple of times from bands and artists in the more âalternativeâ or âindieâ space for championing that music and trying to make space for those artists where you can while coming from a pop background. How do you think about the role that ego plays in an industry like this?Â
Maybe thatâs just the nature of the beast. You know, I could sit here and say, âI wish it wasnât there,â but I think itâs maybe always going to be there, to a degree. And thereâs times where it frustrates me, but thereâs also definitely times where it really fâking motivates me, you know â definitely gives me something to work towards in breaking down these perceptions and preconceived ideas that people have. Just because I was in a band then doesnât mean that thatâs me now. And you know, [there are] definitely times where it does my head in, but at the same time I like the challenge.
13. What does authenticity mean to you, and what do you think it means to your audience?
I think musically it would be hard to put it down to one thing. I think where itâs easier to kind of see is when there isnât authenticity. Sometimes you canât put your finger on exactly what that is. You know, itâs kind of a collective intention. Itâs within the lyrics, itâs within your concepts, itâs within the way you dress. And that kind of builds up this image. I would even say that the authenticity stretches as far as my relationship with the fans â itâs incredibly authentic and incredibly rewarding, I think, for both of us.
I think itâd be hard to really just explain it in one thing, but I donât really know any other ways. Itâs kind of like, if youâre brave enough, itâs the easiest way to operate. I mean, donât get me wrong, itâs sometimes a challenge. Thereâs definitely days where you get kind of tested. But you just kind of got to stay strong-willed and stay authentic. I think thatâs the most important thing as a musician.
14. Whatâs at the top of your professional bucket list?
Probably [playing] festivals. I have a lot of great memories there as a music fan. Love spending time there.Â
15. Faith in the Future feels very conversational at times, while also maintaining a sense of introspection. How do you carve out a space for yourself while also leaving room for your fans to find themselves in the music, too?
That was important for me. I mean, conversational lyric â honest and conversational â is what comes naturally to me, lyrically. I wanted to write a little bit more metaphorically at times, like thereâs definitely lyrics within âSilver tonguesâ that I think sound kind of random, but they meant something to us at the time. The first record, I explained what everything was about â but I also made it specifically only about me and my experiences. And exactly what you just said, I wanted to open up and give the fans room within these concepts that of course I can relate to, but so they can as well and it doesnât just become completely autobiographical. Because, to be honest, thatâs a little bit ego-driven, innit?
16. How are you approaching blending the worlds of Walls and Faith in the Future for the live shows next year?Â
Speculatively thinking about what this set might look like, I imagine itâll be about 70% new songs, 30% Walls. It might even be more new songs than that and less of Walls. I like to do a long set anyway, but Iâll probably still do a One Direction tune â I enjoy doing them. We did a different version of âNight Changesâ recently. Itâs fun to reshape those songs and make them kind of fit in line with where Iâm at musically.
In terms of the show, for me, the crowd do all the heavy lifting and Iâve just got to do a bit of singing and just enjoy it as much as I do. Itâs my favorite thing to do. But honestly, the show is going to feel like a level-up this next tour. Musically, itâs going to be better. But honestly, the show lives with me and the fans and that connection. I imagine if I was, you know, a friend or a parent who came to one of the shows, thatâs what they would come away from it thinking, and that definitely makes me really proud.Â
17. Which artists, dead or alive, would you love to see live?
Well, I mean, itâs really generic and obvious to me to say, but I was never lucky enough to see Oasis together. And I would have absolutely loved that.
18. When youâre looking backwards, thereâs grief, and regret, and memories. But when youâre looking forwards, thereâs a lot of uncertainty, but also optimism, hopefully. What keeps you grounded from spending too much time looking in any one direction?Â
Iâd say I am an optimistic person, so my optimism probably helps with that. Because I think, you know, even when we get emotional on this record, I think thereâll be something within the sound of the production, thereâll be a lyric, thereâll be a melody that just kind of is there to inspire hope. So even when it gets a little bit darker emotionally, there is that hope at the end of it. And that was important for me across this record, really. In terms of staying grounded, Iâve just got a good group of people around me. Iâm lucky for that. It makes everything a little bit more bearable.
19. When you think about legacy and impact â when you look back on your career years and years down the line â what do you want to be the most defining element of all that youâve done?Â
I think actually, as much as this album is about the fans and about those live moments â when I listen back to this album, even today, what makes me proud is this is the record I want to make and I always wanted to make. So if I still have that feeling in two years, which I imagine I will, thatâs how I want to remember it individually. That will definitely give me confidence for the rest of my career. And it already has. I really feel comfortable in what Iâm doing and again, it all comes back to the fanbase. Theyâre the people who allow me to do what I want to do.
20. You have a 31st birthday coming up soon. What have your thirties taught you about yourself so far?
Fâking hell, Iâve only been thirty for some months. Whatâs it taught me about meself? Maybe that I need to grow up a little bit.
Ordering a plate of flautas at his favorite Mexican restaurant in Lincoln Heights, Jean Dawson is in his element.
The staff quickly recognize him â not because of his growing popularity as a genre-agnostic indie performer, but as a frequent patron of the restaurantâs Sinaloan cuisine, which feels like home for the half-Mexican, half-Black American artist. He cracks jokes with the waiter in his native Spanish, oozing with charisma as he sips his watermelon agua fresca. (He finds it to be a little âtoo sweet.â)
Within minutes, itâs clear that Dawsonâs personality is a far cry from the elusive, hard-to-define character he embodies through his melange of sounds. His latest album, CHAOS NOW*, has something for everyone, relentlessly swerving between indie rock, punk, folk, country and hip-hop. On cuts like âTHREEHEADS*â and â0-HEROES*,â we find the 26-year-old Tijuana native yelling an anthemic chorus at the top of his lungs, sandwiched between rap-cadence verses. For the cinematic album closer, PIRATE RADIO*, he delivers gentle country-tinged melodies and reflective lyrics, a soft exhale to follow the high-intensity tracks before it. As the title suggests, CHAOS NOW* is beautifully impossible to place, and thatâs exactly what Jean Dawson wants.
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âI donât necessarily fight categorization â I donât want to go to a grocery store where thereâs gum in the milk aisle,â he says between bites of flautas. âWhere categorization becomes a problem is when youâre pigeonholed into a certain category.â
CHAOS NOW* reached No. 35 on Billboardâs Heatseekers chart, with âPIRATE RADIO*â also appearing on the Adult Alternative Airplay chart. Following the release of his album, Jean Dawson clocked in at over 100 million career streams and tripled his Spotify listenership to 1.4 million.
Born David Sanders, Jean Dawson grew up between Tijuana and San Diego, having moved back to Mexico as his mother battled depression. âMy mom carried the weight of the world on her back,â he explains. âBut my mom also did everything in the fâing world for us.â
After his parents separated, the singer-songwriterâs father would send money to his mother to help support their family, but even then, it was tough to make ends meet. âI woke up every day and made sure we subsistence ate,â he explains â clarifying quickly, âMeaning we would only buy the groceries for the day. As a five- or six-year-old, my grandmother would send me to the store around the corner to buy tortillas, eggs, ham â sheâll make breakfast, then for lunch Iâd go back to the supermarket to get meat and seasonings.â
While his father was largely absent from his life, Jean Dawsonâs mother did everything she could to keep her multi-cultural son aware of the entirety of his heritage. âI was a result of my momâs love for Black culture and my dadâs love for Mexican culture,â he says. âMy mom made us recognize that the world was gonna treat us a certain way for not only being Hispanic, but being Black. But one of the biggest things for my mom was like, âNever let nobody take away your Blackness.â Sheâs like, âBecause you are Mexican as fâk. But youâre also Black as fâk.’â
Navigating the in-between became commonplace for the artist, who went on to study film at California State University, Los Angeles before dropping out, and later released his first album, Bad Sports, in 2019. Since then, his sound has evolved with time, but the essence remains the same. Now, embarking on his sold-out headlining tour, he continues forging his own path while keeping in mind the greats who inspire him.
âIâm informed by Prince [and] Michael Jackson,â he explains. âDo I make music like [them]? Absolutely not. But Iâm informed by the decisions they made, because they were so them. That opens up a space where youâre not dictated by your complexion or your appearance. Now, itâs going to be like, âWhatâs your spirit?’â
Jean Dawson caught up with Billboard to discuss CHAOS NOW*, his creative process, his upbringing in Tijuana and more.
How are you feeling about the way CHAOS NOW* has been received?
I always go with zero expectation. Maybe itâs just a defense mechanism to protect [myself]. I reference Prince, who said it best: âWhen youâre putting something out, you look at it as a success before anybody else does.â So my opinion was fully formed about my album before anybody got a chance to listen to it. We tried our very best to [make] something worth the minutes that you spend listening. Iâm really, really happy and grateful.
A lot of people that I played it for, theyâre like, âPeople are going to have a super-tough time understanding it.â I feel like thereâs a weird consensus that the audience is not as smart as they are.
Did you ever feel any uneasiness about how the world would respond to what youâre creating?
How people receive me never instilled fear in my heart, because I didnât care to begin with. Iâve gone through all of that. I was judged when I was in high school and middle school. I lost 100 pounds during my junior year of high school and came back extra skinny. People were like, âDo you have a brother that goes here?â Iâm like, âItâs me, in a different form.â I found out the shallowness of the world when I was really young.
What was it like growing up in Tijuana?
A beautiful experience. Being a Black Mexican kid, I was always culturally uninformed. When I was here, I didnât know how to be American. When I was there, I didnât know how to be Mexican. We lived in a house that my great-great-grandfather built. Nothing fancy â when you used the bathroom, the toilet [didnât flush]. Itâs a very humble reality. My day revolved around doing a lot of studying because my tias were on my ass. I have been raised by women my entire life. My tias would take care of me around the time my mom was going through [something] that was very unfortunate for our family.
What was your childhood like?
We were poor as fâk. And not in a âI made it out the mudâ way. That sât sucked. My mama always had exactly what we needed, never more, never less. By the time I lived in the United States, I was a latchkey kid, so I was alone a lot. In fifth grade, Iâd get myself up in the morning, make myself breakfast, walk to school, come back and make myself dinner. I was way too introspective way too young. It fâked me up. I had my first existential thought when I was like, nine.
My mom worked two jobs: 7-Eleven and for the school district. Iâd go to sleep by the time she got home, so I didnât see her much. Sheâd just give me a kiss before she went off to work. Because my pops had worked for the military, he gave my mom money to support me and my brother. [But] in all honesty, my mom carried the weight of the world on her back. I donât glamorize being poor.
Are you supporting your mom now?
Yeah! I fixed her whole house. She lives in San Diego. Iâm trying to get her to move [to Los Angeles] because I want to have babies in the next few years. I want to be a dad so bad.
Were your parents supportive of you making music?
They had no fâking idea. My mom always knew I loved music. I used to rap when I was a little kid. When I was in the eighth grade, I was going over to my friendâs house to record, He taught me pretty much everything I know. He taught me how to record, how to count bars. Weâd record on Magix Music Maker 6 with a USB microphone.
When it comes to CHAOS NOW*, what inspired your lyrics?
This album, I was having a really hard time toting a line that I was trying to create for myself. I wanted to use myself as a conduit to talk about something bigger than myself. Imagine writing a novel about yourself, without once saying your own name.
One song that stands out to me is â0-HEROES*â â what was the inspiration behind that?
I donât want people to feel like Iâm out here trying to save anybody. I have kids in my DMs saying âYour music made me not kill myself,â and Iâm like, âDude, so unhealthy. I get it and I really appreciate the sentiment, but you need to get help. You need to tell your mom and dad this. If you donât have anybody, hereâs this hotline.â So, I made the song. Thereâs this part [going] into the hook thatâs saying, âOh, I know I canâ over and over again. Having a crowd of kids saying âOh, I know I canâ with this guitar ringing out, for me felt like I was doing something.
Whatâs your creation process like? Do you like making music with lots of people in the room?
If youâre here, itâs because youâre contributing something. The place is supposed to be a safe space for us to feel uninhibited. I have friends that really like having a bunch of people in the studio, because it adds to that quote-unquote vibe. But not me. Weâre not hanging out as much as we are having fun and exploring our own abilities and propensities to do things. Itâs kind of like a construction game. Youâre not just sitting around on the job-site.
As a Black artist in an âalternativeâ space, what are your thoughts on how youâre categorized?
I cared a whole lot after my first album. People were like, âYouâre pop-punk.â And I [associate] pop-punk to these Southern Californian, predominantly white boys that have gone through a very specific life that I hadnât. I donât consider myself punk. And at first, I wanted to control [the narrative]. Iâm like, âNo, Iâm not that.â
Then what would you say you were?
I wouldnât. I relinquished control. Iâm not dictated by [any] perspective. I feel like once I [categorized my music], it would sully it. What I follow a little bit is Freddie Mercury. Freddie was like, âIâm gonna make this ballad album. Iâm gonna Iâm gonna make this club album. Iâm gonna make this thing thatâs acoustic-sounding.â He was touching everything in a way thatâs just Freddie. So, what do you call Freddie? Well, Freddie was a star.
Do you want to be a star?
I want the music to be bigger than me. The disassociation of myself from the music. I romanticize the everyman, because I donât live it.
Itâs also because I grew up with very humble beginnings. The idea of what a star is, to me, is profoundly confused. Itâs very hard for me even to be considered important. Iâm important to myself. Iâm not a fatalist in any kind of way. But I want to be as big as the world wants me to be. Because then I can open up institutions to help kids make music. Like a sick, state-of-the-art musical recreation center for kids â because I was a rec center kid. I want to have my famous friends come in once a month to talk to these kids for 20 minutes. Thatâs one of my lifeâs goals.
What are your goals as an artist?
I think about this a lot. My ethos was to be a proverbial sledgehammer to the door that people have to knock on. I donât want that door to ever be closed. I want that sât to be stuck open so you could just run in. It became less about genre-defining and [more about] generational-defining.
But no matter what I say I want music to accomplish, itâs not up to me. Iâm just the conduit. What it does for people is definitely indicative of what they need. What I would hope is that music just serves as a supplement. You plug me in and whatever you need me for that moment, thatâs what Iâm here for.

For the majority of his now-decades-long career in music journalism, Stereogum writer Tom Breihan didnât consider himself a historian â certainly not like his father, an actual history professor.
âWhen he retired, his colleagues threw this big party, and one of them made this speech, clowning him for stopping at the side of the road and reading every historical marker⌠and I was like, âOh, every history professor doesnât do this?’â he recalls. âHe was that big of a history nerd⌠I was never interested in it at all. I hated it. And when I started writing about music, it was always [about] whatâs happening right now, this moment.â
And yet, when Breihan releases his first book (on Nov. 15), it will be that kind of historical compendium. The Number Ones, based on his popular Stereogum column of the same name, dives into songs that have hit No. 1 throughout the 63-year history of the Billboard Hot 100. Despite starting as a series of short-form song reviews, âThe Number Onesâ has since grown into a set of thoughtful, funny and thoroughly researched essays â zooming in on the tales behind the hitsâ creation and release, and zooming out on their larger place in pop history, both in the short-term and the long-term â tracing a non-linear but ultimately fairly comprehensive history of modern pop music in the process. The columnâs following has grown along with it, and even expanded to the siteâs comment section, where several regular Stereogum readers are contributing their own parallel commentaries, tracking other chart-toppers and notable releases occurring contemporaneously.
While Breihanâs triweekly column will ultimately hit on all 1,143-and-counting No. 1s in chronological order â he started with Ricky Nelsonâs inaugural Aug. 1958 Hot 100-topper âPoor Little Foolâ in Jan. 2018 and most recently caught up to Eminemâs âLose Yourself,â which first bested the chart in Nov. 2002 â the book edition of The Number Ones focuses on 20 particularly pivotal No. 1s, ranging from The Beatles to, well, âBlack Beatles.â And though a large part of the regular column is Breihanâs own song analysis and personal feelings â including anecdotes from his own life, unfiltered praise and/or criticism, and a whole-number final rating from 1 to 10 (âPoor Little Foolâ scored a 3, âLose Yourselfâ a 9) â the book version finds him more in that professor mode, telling the stories of the songs and their cultural contexts without devoting as much space to his own personal takes. (âI figure nobodyâs buying the book to read about me,â he explains.)
Regardless, both the book and column are fascinating looks at the last six-plus decades of popular music through the prism of Billboardâs signature songs chart, digging into the nooks and crannies of both the music and the chart itself as the subject requires. Below, Breihan talks with Billboard about the genesis and growth of his column and subsequent accompanying book, while also sharing his feelings about the Hot 100 as it currently stands, and what he thinks (or hopes) the chart might look like in the future. (Ed. note: The conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.)
When you first started the column in 2018, were you thinking of it as a compendium, a history of pop music? Or were you just thinking, âIâm gonna review these 1,100-whatever songsâŚâ
Not at all. It was just reviewing the songs. Iâd been reading Tom Ewingâs column Popular. And it was a really fun read, heâs a great writer. And I was just like, âWell, is there a version of this for the U.S. charts? Is there a Wikipedia page for No. 1 songs?â And obviously there is. And I was sitting there and just being like, âI donât know what this song is, I donât know what this song is, this is a gigantic iconic song that everybody knows, and hereâs another one that I donât know what it isâŚâ
And so it was like a âLet me kind of educate myselfâ type of deal. And in the beginning, I was not writing these long, exhaustive, explainer dealies. That kinda evolved over time. But the column told me what it wanted to be, eventually, I guess. If thatâs not the most pretentious thing that anybodyâs ever said.Â
Did you go in with any kind of Hot 100 knowledge? Obviously, you know about pop music, but knowing about pop music and knowing about the specifics of Hot 100 history are pretty different things. Would you have been able to say, like, what the longest-running No. 1 ever was? Or who had the most No. 1s?
Yeah, yeah, I couldâve said all that, because most of the records were pretty recent, and within my living memory. âCoz the way the charts have been collated has changed so many times, and obviously, like, when Mariah Carey comes within shouting distance of The Beatles for the most No. 1s, that becomes a news story. Iâve been living in the music press ecosystem for a long time, and Iâve absorbed a lot of this stuff, both as a fan and as a writer. But actually boring into the nature of the way the chart has changed has opened things up for me, and has just been an interesting way of looking at things, that I hadnât really done beforehand.Â
When you talk about that ecosystem â when do you feel like it became a thing for you and your peers that it was actually common knowledge, and an actual sort of shared language, about what the No. 1 song was that week, what the No. 1 song of all-time was, that sort of thing?Â
I donât know when that became something that all my peers paid attention to. I can say that when I started writing about music, I was into that right away. I started writing for Pitchfork in 2004, and my whole thing at the time was like, âI donât care about indie rock,â yâknow? I did care about indie rock, but I wasnât interested in writing about it.
I went in there with a chip on my shoulder. I was trying to kind of push my way in as loudly as I could and be like, âPetey Pablo is more interesting than Bright Eyes!â or whatever. And then when I was at The Village Voice, I had to write a column every day. And a lot of the time, when I couldnât think of anything to write about, it would be like, âWell, letâs talk about whatâs in the iTunes top five this week. Whatâs Flo Ridaâs deal? Letâs figure him out.âÂ
I think working in the tradition of rock criticism, where a lot of sort of underground or trendy stuff gets lionized, I think itâs really interesting and important to keep at least half an eye on what is actually popular at any given moment, and to try to see like what thatâs in conversation with, and where that came from, and maybe see where things are going through that. Iâve always thought itâs been part of the job, I guess.Â
When youâre signing up to do a column like this, youâre signing up to write over 1,000 mini-columns â and you might not have had a sense of how big they would get, but signing up for 1,000 of anything is a pretty big investment. What gave you the confidence â and maybe even more importantly, what gave your editors the confidence â that you would be willing to stick with this project for years?
I wonder if anybody thought that I would actually stick with it. I donât know if I thought I would stick with it. I thought it was a fun thing to do, because I was noticing I had dead time in the afternoon, where I wasnât working on some other column. I donât know why Scott [Lapatine, Stereogum founder] thought that I could do this. I was pretty much just in Slack one day, like, âHey, I wanna start doing this. Can I start doing this?â And he was like, âYeah, sure. You wanna start on Monday?â And I was like, âUhhâŚ. today. I wanna start today.â And he was like, âOh. All right⌠go ahead.â
You know, Iâd been working at Stereogum for a while at that point, and whatever â I get bugs up my ass about things, and I get big ideas. And Scott is a really good boss, and he lets me go off when I get fired up about something.Â
Was there a particular period of pop history â or maybe even one column specifically â where you remember writing about it and thinking, âOK, now I understand what this column is or should beâ?Â
There were some songs where I felt like⌠I need to step up to this song. I really need to work on this song, because the song demands it. Like, âI Heard It Through the Grapevineâ was one of those. And âDancing Queenâ was one of those. âThese songs are so good, and their stories are so interesting, that I really need to write.â And I havenât gone back and looked at those columns, but I hope they hold up. Those were the ones where I was really like, âIâm gonna really put my whole foot in. Iâm gonna really work as hard as I can. Iâm gonna figure out my calendar, and be like, âThis is what Iâm doing today.ââÂ
I definitely wanted to ask about the most controversial ratings youâve ever given, either on the high side or the low side.Â
Oh man. The one â I think itâs just kind of a little meme for the commenters now â is that I gave âMagicâ by Olivia Newton-John a three out of 10. I didnât have any idea that anybody has any emotional attachment to that song! I donât think Iâd ever heard that song⌠it just floated right by me. And then the other one that gets brought up a lot: I gave âPenny Laneâ a six. I just donât like that song. Yeah, itâs important, but thereâs certain Beatle eras that just donât â theyâre not my bag, necessarily. And so, obviously, I know if Iâm gonna give a Beatle song a rating out of 10, like â who am I? But thatâs the fun part, you can just be like, âI much prefer âJumpâ by Kris Kross.â
Is there an era that youâve enjoyed writing about the most or the least?Â
Weâre heading right into the period where I was out of college, and I was like, drunk and out in the world all the timeâŚ.
But that can be a good thing or a bad thing.Â
Oh, itâs a good thing. I love it. Where I was like, âJesus Christ, I didnât know Usher was this good!â Everything on the radio sounded awesome to me. Thatâs like my â60s, is the early 2000s.Â
And what about the period where youâre like, âMan, donât want to go back there ever againâ?Â
Iâm a little trepidatious about 2010s stuff. Where itâs a lotta like, EDM and Macklemore and whatnot. I donât know what thatâs going to be like.Â
The â70s-into-early-â80s soft-rock era was pretty rough. That was not my favorite. But even when I donât like the songs, I feel like the stories are a lot of fun. Every one of these songs has a story and most of them are ones that I didnât know. So when I find them out, itâs fun to get in there and be like, âOh, thatâs who Leo Sayer was!âÂ
Whatâs more fun to write, a 10 or a 1?Â
A 10 is way more fun to write. I mean, a lot of the 1s â youâre getting into R. Kelly or whatever. Some of that stuff is just depressing. Or likeâŚ. I wrote about âOne Weekâ by the Barenaked Ladies. Which is a song that I just canât stand. And there was some satisfaction in trying to rip a hole in it. But I still had to listen to that song a bunch of times! That wasnât something that I wanted to do. And so I think you can see me taking out some of that frustration in the writing.Â
There has to be one song that youâve written about, where looking back on it, you just go, âMan, I had nothing to say about that song.âÂ
Oh, it happens all the time. Thatâs the challenge. I recently wrote about âFoolishâ by Ashanti. Which is a song I never liked, a song I kinda always ignored when it was on the radio â it would just fade into the background. And so the challenge is to be like, âWell first off â how do I write about the song itself in a compelling way? What do I find about it thatâs compelling enough to sink my teeth into?â
And also â the stories involved, the people who made it, the currents that brought it up to No. 1. Like, what was happening in the timing? That stuff to me is a lot more interesting a lot of the time than the song itself. And so, when I write about the 14th Mariah Carey No. 1 â it means that I have to get real invested in Mariah Careyâs whole story. I was always interested, but I was never like, super-dialed in. But now because of what she did, and because of the nature of the column, I gotta get real granular: âAll right, hereâs what was happening with Mariah Carey in the Spring of 1994âł or whatever.
When did you first start thinking about it as a potential book?
I didnât. My agent, Jack Gernert â whoâs younger than me, and was in college here in Charlotte when I moved here â was like, âLet me take you out to coffee. I think this is a book.â And I started thinking about it, and he really held my hand through the process.
I never have to worry about writersâ block, because there always has to be like, five things written right now. But sitting down to write a book proposal, I freaked myself out so hard. But yâknow, itâs â Iâm lucky that enough people who kinda know whatâs going on read the column and were into the idea, that they were able to kinda help me turn it into something. I didnât know how that would work â it was a lot of, âWho am I to do this?â But Iâm super-glad that itâs happening, that I did it, and that I had enough help to really make it work.Â
When did you settle on the 20-column format as the guiding principle for the book?
When Jack took me out to coffee, we started talking about it, throwing ideas back and forth. We didnât come up with a hard number of how many songs it would be, but â driving back to my house that day, I was already putting the list of songs together in my head. And that list changed a little bit, but not that much. And I already had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to write about, and how it would all kind of flow and connect.Â
Is there one that youâve been showing people the table of contents and they go, âReally, that song? I donât even remember that song,â or âI wouldnât have expected that song to be one of the most important No. 1s everâ?
Well, when I mention Soulja Boy, people think thatâs funny. I think âRock Your Babyâ by George McCrae is a song that a lot of people donât necessarily know, but in terms of when it came out and what it represented at the time⌠thatâs a song that Iâm using as a way into disco, and to talking about disco and why disco was important. And so because of when it came out, and when it hit No. 1, that song is ultimately more important than âStayinâ Aliveâ or âI Will Surviveâ or one of these songs that everybody knows.Â
When you look at the Hot 100 charts today, in the streaming era, obviously theyâre very different than the years youâve been writing about â in terms of albums charting 16 songs at a time, and the durations of songs staying on the chart, and so on. How do you compare the charts today to the ones youâve been writing about for the last couple years?Â
Iâve got a friend whoâs a college professor, right? And weâre out to dinner a week or two ago, and heâs telling me how one of his getting-to-know-you things with his new students is he has them write down what their favorite music is. And the last time he did it, not only did he not know what most of the music that people wrote down was, but the kids didnât recognize each othersâ favorite music. Everyone has their own thing â theyâre into like, Japanese chiptune or whatever the hell. My son listens almost exclusively to British rap cyphers about anime. Thereâs so many, hyper-niche things that â to the people who are into them, theyâre like the biggest thing in the world, and to everybody else, they donât know that they exist.Â
And so I think itâs kinda interesting that old music is more popular than new music now, to an extent. Maybe itâs always been that way, but it really seems like itâs that way now. Like, the Harry Styles song that was No. 1 for a million years this year [âAs It Wasâ]: I couldnât tell you how that song goes. And certainly that has something to do with me being an old man now, but I think nothing is as culturally present as it used to be. The world itself is so much more fragmented.
So when something like âRunning Up That Hillâ happens, people get real excited about that. Wouldâve been cool if it went all the way to No. 1. But that it went as far as it did is also really cool. And that something like that can happen is really cool too â that something that can just bubble up out of nowhere like that.Â
Obviously your column is very successful, but do you think part of that is nostalgia not only for the specific songs youâre writing about, but for the monoculture in general? For the time when a No. 1 song in the country could be known by everyone, and sorta unavoidable to everyone?
Absolutely. I think that that is a huge part of it. And one of the things thatâs been interesting in the column lately is that the songs themselves are losing some of the regular readers. So some of the older readers or commenters who have been in it, and reading about the stuff from the â70s or â80s â they donât know any Ja Rule songs. Theyâre like, âWhat the fâk? Toni Braxton? What?â And yâknow, these are songs, as someone who was out in the world at the time, and young â it certainly seems accurate to me that those songs were No. 1. Those songs were all over the place.Â
Is the plan to go up to the point where youâre eventually going to be writing about the song thatâs No. 1 that very week?
Yeah. I wanna get it there, for sure. I donât know what Iâm gonna do after I get it there⌠but yeah, I wanna catch up.Â
And keeping this in mind, are you now following the Hot 100 a lot more closely? Are there any artists or songs that are kind of on the verge now that have never been No. 1 before, and youâre like, âI kind of hope they get there, because they seem theyâd be really interesting to dig into like that?â
Well yeah â like, Dua Lipa has to get there, eventually. I would be shocked if I did not end up writing about her at some point. Iâm mad at Lil Baby for releasing all these underwhelming-ass singles. I want him to get there, because I think heâs kind of a generational artist, and I think he should be in the whole historic conversation. But to do that you need that song.Â
Iâm very curious if âUnholyâ makes it. I think it would be cool if it did. [Ed. note: After our conversation, âUnholyâ did actually go to No. 1.] But then thereâs also like, âIs Morgan Wallen gonna get there? Am I gonna have to deal with that? Am I gonna have to deal with OneRepublic?â And also, whatâs gonna catch that Kate Bush wave next? Because thatâs not done. Itâs gonna happen more.Â
You mentioned that you donât really know what happens after the column ends. Iâm sure you mustâve given some thought to something like going through every R&B No. 1, every modern rock No. 1, every No. 1 album â have you ticketed a likely sequel yet?Â
Yeah, Iâve thought about rap songs â I think that would be fun â but I feel like maybe Iâd lose a whole lot of the audience, and maybe not gain back another one. I think alt-rock would be super-interesting, but it would turn into such a tragedy. It would become just this unrelenting parade of mush. If I did that, Iâd have to give myself a real cut-off point, and go, âIâm not gonna get caught up, Iâm gonna go as far as â whatever, â04, maybe.â Whenever Seether shows up, Iâm leaving the party. Like, Iâm out.Â
I think it would be interesting to look at the albums that have gone diamond. Which is a little bit less of a chronological thing, but â what does it mean when something has that level of sustained interest, where it really really breaks through on an overwhelming level? And there, when you deal with that, you get artists like Shania Twain, who came close, but she never got a Hot 100 No. 1. Led Zeppelin. Stuff like that I could talk about that I donât get to talk about in the context of this column.Â
Do you think a Hot 100 No. 1 is going to mean the same thing a generation from now that it means today?
I think probably right now, most people donât care if Billie Eilish gets back there, or whatever. She has people who do, but I donât think that the general public does. But something like the Kate Bush story caught peopleâs imagination in such a big way. And I think the Steve Lacy story is doing that in a different way at the same time. And now you also have stan armies, which is a new development. And they care very much. They care overwhelmingly, whether or not they can get their people up there.Â
So I think right now, there might be more interest in it than at any time that I can remember. I donât know if thatâs gonna sustain necessarily, but I could see it sustaining. I could see it increasing. I hope it does, because itâs just a fun thing to keep track of. And I think the way the internet works, people love numbers, and they love progressions, and they love treating things like sports â and this is a thing people can make bets on, they can make their fantasy drafts or whatever. Itâs one more fun running story line thatâs available to everybody.Â
Also â I donât know that the general public cared about political polling the way they did before FiveThirtyEight and stuff like that. So anytime you can throw like, numbers and corruptions of justice or whatever into the mix, people get emotionally invested. And thatâs all you can ask for from any cultural thing right now. You gotta get people emotionally invested. And the pop charts do that. And I donât see why they should stop doing that.Â
Stereogum belonged to the Billboard-The Hollywood Reporter Media group from December 2016 to Jan. 2020.