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On the first day of recording her debut album, Jasmine Cruickshank found herself in one of the most famous recording studios in the world, squeezed into a tiny room and singing with three other people — two of whom were Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus.

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Cruickshank, the British singer-songwriter who performs as Jasmine.4.t, had just arrived in Los Angeles from her home in Manchester, and had met her band mate Phoenix Rousiamanis at Sound City Studios, the birthplace of albums like Neil Young’s After the Gold Rush and Nirvana’s Nevermind. “Phoebe was giving us a tour of the studio, because that was where Punisher was recorded,” Cruickshank tells Billboard. “She took me, Phoenix and Lucy in the Echo Chamber, which is this concrete room where they create natural reverbs and just has this really beautiful sound. And they were like, ‘Oh, let’s sing a song!’”

The quartet began harmonizing on “Kitchen,” the wounded, finger-picked folk song which would become the first track on the first Jasmine.4.t album. Cruickshank exhales thinking about the sing-along. “It was just this beautiful moment,” she says.

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It was one that would have been unimaginable for Cruickshank just a few years ago. A trans woman who came out in 2021, Cruickshank spent months without a home after her marriage fell apart, alienated from loved ones who did not accept her — but also embracing her new identity, finding uplift in Manchester’s queer community, and experiencing the joy of her first trans romance.

The highs and lows of that whirlwind experience are captured in brilliant detail on You Are the Morning, her debut album released on Friday (Jan. 17). Although Jasmine.4.t’s songs span different iterations of indie rock — guitars whoosh on “Skin On Skin” and are gently strummed on “Best Friend’s House,” while piano and strings are effectively dotted across the album — her soft, subtly powerful voice remains the album’s foundation, an uncompromising instrument sharing a one-of-a-kind story.

Not only is Jasmine.4.t the first U.K. signee on Bridgers’ label, Saddest Factory Records, but You Are the Morning was produced by Bridgers, Dacus and Julien Baker, the three members of the arena-level indie supergroup Boygenius. Their individual presences are felt throughout the album — Bridgers duets on the mid-tempo rocker “Guy Fawkes Tesco Dissociation,” for instance, and all three members sing backing vocals on the hushed ballad “Highfield” — in a way that will delight Boygenius completists. Plus, Jasmine.4.t and her all-trans backing band will be opening for Dacus on her North American headlining tour, which kicks off in April.

Yet You Are the Morning stands on its own as a breathtaking debut, which is why Jasmine.4.t is Billboard’s inaugural Rock/Alternative Rookie of the Month. Below, Cruickshank discusses her personal journey, her friendship with Dacus, creating art alongside the trans community, and more. [Editor’s note: this interview was been condensed for clarity.]

How did the label deal with Saddest Factory come together?

I knew Phoebe through Lucy, and I knew Lucy pre-transition. I used to play in this two-piece garage rock band, and we opened for Sunflower Bean, and the promoter didn’t pay us. We and Sunflower Bean were [arguing] with the promoter as a consequence, and the boss of the promotion company was like, “You’ll never play in this town again!” But then the local promoter was like, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure you get some really nice shows off the back of this horrible experience.”

One of the shows that he got me was a solo show opening for Lucy Dacus, on her first album tour. And then we just got on so well — we had pizza next door before the show. Lucy was like, “I’d love to have you along for my next tour in Europe,” which was for the Historian album, which I f–king love. We really bonded on that tour, and then we kept in touch, and sent each other downloads, quite a lot.

I got really sick during lockdown, and I had a lot of time alone with my thoughts — insulated from the societal pressures and expectations of masculinity. And I was like, “You know what? I think I’m gonna transition.” And Lucy was actually one of the first people that I came out to, and Lucy was a lot more accepting than a lot of the other people in my life.

I ended up having to escape my marriage and Bristol, my hometown. I came to stay with some friends up in Manchester, and was sleeping on sofas and floors, and in people’s spare rooms for a while. That was when I wrote the songs that are on the album, and I was sending them back and forth with Lucy as well. And she was like, “Oh, I’d love to produce your music.”

I submitted a little demo playlist to Saddest Factory. A few months later, Lucy was like, “We just listened to your demos in the car, and Phoebe is now on the phone with her manager, talking about signing you.” And then I opened for Boygenius when they came to to the UK, which was wild, and then I think it was the next day that I signed.

How did all three members of Boygenius become so involved with creating the album?

I formed a band of trans women here in Manchester, and the label flew us out to L.A. to record at Sound City Studios. Lucy has already said that she wanted to produce, and when Phoebe signed me, she was like, “Actually, I want to produce the record.” Then Phoebe called me before we flew out and said, “Actually, I think Julien’s gonna be in town, so we’re thinking — we’re all gonna produce, together.”

I can’t even imagine what it was like to hear that.

I was like, “This is the best thing that’s ever gonna happen to me.” It was so cool working with them all in the studio. They all brought so much to the recording process, and seeing them work together, it’s so cool how ego-less they all are when interacting — it so easy to create with them, just a very chill environment.

They’ve obviously built this way of working together and creating their records, this routine, and part of that routine is Julien’s ’tone quest,’ where Julien would spend a good hour or two selecting guitars, selecting amplifiers, selecting pedals, different microphones. It’s something that I’d never put too much thought into myself before, but then just seeing Julien talk about guitar tones, it just gave me so much joy and warmth. Having Julien solos on a few of the songs — in particular, I f–king love the solos on “Skin on Skin” — they just really make the tracks.

Your songwriting contains so many details about the singular journey you’ve taken as a person. How healing of a process to put this album together, and finish songs that were written at a very different point in your life?

It’s insane thinking about where I was when I was writing these songs — I was really struggling, honestly. I thought I was already dead — I had this persistent delusion that I had died, and that I was living as some kind of ghost or zombie. “Guy Fawkes Tesco Dissociation” is about that experience.

And thinking about now, where I’ve found my people, I’m in my own home, I own this house, I have a whole new family. I’ve gone to L.A. and recorded an album with Lucy and Phoebe and Julien, and I have a band, and it’s all trans women. I never could have anticipated this, and it has been very healing. And I hope that it can bring some kind of hope for a brighter future for other trans women as well who’ve been through similar situations.

I think what I’ve been through is sadly a very common experience for a lot of trans women. So many trans people experience homelessness. I’ve experienced a lot of street violence, and that’s very common as well. Not to mention suicide, sadly. Right now in the U.K. and in the U.S., it’s a horrible time to come out as a trans woman — it’s not safe. And it’s kind of terrifying doing what I’m doing right now and being so visible. I get a lot of s–t on the streets and online, as all trans women do. But I think it’s worth it because I get so much love, and so many [positive] messages. Just today, someone was like, “I just listened to ‘Elephant’ for the first time, I transitioned like 10 years ago, and I don’t think that anyone has captured these feelings of loving someone as a trans person for the first time as accurately.”

I think we’re going through so much as a community. Every November, we have a day called Trans Day of Remembrance, where we list all of the trans people who have died by violence over the past year — and this year was more than any other year before. It’s such a tiny community, and we all feel so close to death, we all feel so close to these experiences, whether we’re lucky enough to have a stable life or not. It’s difficult for people who don’t experience that to grasp, and I think that we often feel so distanced from society at large as a consequence. We often meet friction when our needs aren’t met or we’re not understood, and even well-meaning people can play into systemic imbalances that we see when we’re so underrepresented in the music industry, or society at large. It means a lot for people to feel seen and understood, and I feel very lucky to be able to provide that through my music — and to be able to talk about these things on a more mainstream, visible platform.

You mentioned your band of all trans women, and you also worked with the Trans Chorus of Los Angeles on the final song, “Woman.” Considering this moment in history, what has it been like to be surrounded by other members of the trans community while performing?

I think you hit the nail on the head when you said “this moment in history,” because it did feel like we were making history. There were so many moments where we looked around in this iconic studio, that has meant so much to music history, are were all very aware of what those moments [meant]. On the last day in the Studio A live room, which is the biggest live room at Sound City — to be in there, recording in a room completely full of trans people, it just felt like such a magical moment.

I think we were all aware of the cultural and societal context that is the backdrop for this album, and how important it is to be spotlighting trans artists and raising each other up, and how terrifying it is to be visible. It was incredibly emotional. I remember there was a moment where Phoenix was conducting the chorus, and I looked around, and Lucy had tears in her eyes, just watching it all happen.

We definitely all felt that we were creating this piece of history, and I hope that it can be remembered that we filled that space with trans people. But even if it’s not, to us personally, it just meant so much.