No. 1s
A full 10 years ago, global audiences got to know Andrew Hozier-Byrne — the Irish singer-songwriter known to most simply as Hozier — with his smash “Take Me to Church.” Written and released while he was still an independent artist playing Dublin open mics, the howling alt-folk ballad decried religious institutional hypocrisy and turned into enough of a surprise hit to get licensed to Columbia Records. It became omnipresent and climbed to No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100; Hozier, in turn, became one of 2014’s biggest breakout stars.
But over the next decade, he never matched its crossover success. That is, until this year: with “Too Sweet,” a slinky pop-soul ode to responsible decadence that once again made Hozier’s haunting wail unavoidable across multiple radio formats. The song (from his now ironically titled Unheard EP) became a runaway prerelease success in snippet form on TikTok, then on streaming services once the full song dropped in March, and then on the Hot 100 in April as it debuted at No. 5 and eventually did “Church” one better by topping the chart three weeks later, as well as the Pop Airplay and Rock & Alternative Airplay lists. For most artists who have gone 10 years without a major pop hit, its success would have been an absolute godsend — a comeback-marking, career-defining moment of validation.
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For Hozier? Eh, it was a nice bonus.
Which isn’t to say that he’s not thankful for the song’s streaming virality or for its subsequent pop radio crossover — the unassuming (and strikingly modest) artist projects only gratitude and humility when talking about his 2024 wins. It’s just that… well, the song’s chart takeover hasn’t really changed his career much yet.
“Ten years into your career, you know there’s going to be busy cycles, you know there’s going to be quiet cycles,” Hozier explains with a shrug.
This year obviously wasn’t one of the latter. He’s speaking to Billboard from Perth, Australia, on election night in America — which, with his jet-lagged sleep schedule, means he woke up in the “dark cloud” of Donald Trump’s electoral map takeover. “It feels like the world is controlled by gray-haired old men,” he says, then adds with a bit of mordant humor: “But in a few years… we can’t dodge coffins forever, you know?”
He has just had some rare time off — about three weeks, during which he recharged with friends and family in the countryside of Wicklow, Ireland, that he calls home — and is now between his two dates in Perth, part of a 12-show run Down Under that will take his total gigs for 2024 into the triple digits.Still, he says that when it comes to “Too Sweet,” 2024 hardly compares with his first turn in the pop spotlight. “When it was ‘Take Me to Church,’ that was the first song that I ever put out. So I was learning everything about everything all at once, also while trying to keep pace with this train that was moving,” he explains. “That was my whole life, was catching up with that song.”
Hozier photographed September 19, 2024 at Black Rabbit Rose in Los Angeles.
Austin Hargrave
“Too Sweet,” on the other hand? “It kind of just put wind in the sails of a ship that was already sort of moving,” he says, still sounding unsure of how to best quantify the effect. “It was just like this thing that happened, and it’s been like a cherry on the cake.”
And while Hozier has never seemed one to puff up his own wins, this time his entire team also appears to view the boost from his recent striking success in relatively low-key terms. Caroline Downey, his longtime manager, sums up the impact of “Too Sweet” even more succinctly than the artist himself.
“It was just lovely,” she says. “A lovely surprise.”
Most artists with a single major hit follow a similar trajectory. Hozier, for the last decade, has not.
For one thing, though his lone visit to the Hot 100 in the 2010s was with “Take Me to Church,” he found greater success on other charts. He established a home base on Adult Alternative Airplay, where he scored six top five hits before the end of the decade — including a second No. 1 after “Take Me to Church” with 2018’s Mavis Staples-featuring “Nina Cried Power” — and he topped the Billboard 200 in 2019 with Wasteland, Baby!, which features the latter track.
More importantly, though, he developed a major live following. Hozier has spent his entire career as a road warrior, gradually leveling up in terms of venue size — and earning lifelong fans with his live combination of low-key charisma and soaring singalongs, elevated by his piercing baritone — but making sure not to skip steps, or markets. “I’ve been doing this 25 years, and I don’t know if there’s another artist at the agency that’s played as many markets as Andrew has played,” says WME senior partner/global co-head of music Kirk Sommer, who oversees his North American touring. “He’s just completely and utterly dedicated to his craft and plays each show as if it’s his last. And he’s really put in the work.”
On his 2023 tour in support of new album Unreal Unearth — his third top three entry on the Billboard 200 in as many tries — Hozier started to really see the fruits of that labor with some of his highest-profile venue plays to date, including his first headlining show at New York’s Madison Square Garden. While he has maintained his Adult Alternative audience from the prior decade, he also picked up a new, younger one on TikTok during the global coronavirus shutdown; they fell for the rock star’s modest Irish countryside lifestyle as much as his poetic lyrics and spirit-lifting anthems.
“The fans seem to really enjoy that… I guess, like, domestic, sort of silly side of me?” he offers, somewhat incredulously. “During the pandemic, we’d do these kind of live readings on Instagram — I’d maybe read a few poems, or we’d do these Instagram Lives, play a few songs. I think maybe there’s a sort of lasting relationship that [makes it feel] like there’s an element of domesticity to me? And that’s why people are like, ‘Hey, talk to us about the bees that you’re keeping in your garden.’ ”
Hozier photographed September 19, 2024 at Black Rabbit Rose in Los Angeles.
Austin Hargrave
While Hozier grew to an arena-level headliner and a TikTok sensation, his mainstream profile remained relatively low. Pop crossover was not a priority of his — “I was always wary of attempting to write hits for the sake of writing hits,” he says — and he has never been much of a critics’ darling or a Grammy favorite. (“Take Me to Church” scored a song of the year nod, but he hasn’t been nominated since; “Too Sweet” was snubbed for the 2025 awards.) Consequently, his sustained level of success escaped the notice of some less-plugged-in fans and media.
“We did have one interview he was doing at [a festival] where the interviewer said — I think [Hozier] nearly choked on his coffee — ‘Where have you been for 10 years?’ ” Downey recalls. “You’re going, “He’s about to close the festival tonight. He’s kind of been around…’ ”
Even before “Too Sweet,” though, Hozier’s rising success was increasingly evident — and his influence on a new generation of rootsy, big-voiced singer-songwriters equally hard to miss. In late 2023, he appeared on a new version of Noah Kahan’s Stick Season opener “Northern Attitude” — which not only returned Hozier to the Hot 100’s top 40 (at No. 37) for the first time since 2014, but contextualized him as a key influence on Kahan’s brand of alt-folk and as one of the artists who had laid the groundwork for the latter’s crossover success. And just days before the release of “Too Sweet,” Lollapalooza announced that Hozier would headline the August festival — his highest-profile bill-topping appearance to that point.
“I was like, ‘Well, how is this gonna go?’ ” Sommer says of checking out his client’s ultimately successful headliner turn in Chicago. “How’s it gonna go? There are gonna be people for as far as the eye can see!”
Meanwhile, Hozier was (perhaps unwittingly) developing an increasingly devoted corner of his fan base. The affection held for him in the lesbian community has already been a source of internet incredulity for years — “Why Do Lesbians Love Hozier?” blog explorations date back to the turn of the 2020s — though the conversation went overground this year when Lucy Dacus told The New York Times: “Lesbians love Hozier.” (Hozier, an outspoken LGBTQ+ ally, calls his support in the community “really, really wonderful, really sweet… there’s a lot of humor in it, too, and a lot of self-awareness.”)
Because Hozier’s career momentum was already trending in a positive direction, the success of “Too Sweet” can be interpreted as not just an effect, but also a cause of his recent revival. “The song, I think, is very special — it really connected with people on a lot of levels — so that is a part of [its success],” says Erika Alfredson, head of marketing at Columbia. “But it’s also a little bit of the market [being more open to him] and also a lot of the work that Andrew has done. And I think it very well could have happened with another song of his. This just happened to be the one.”
This helps explain why Hozier and his team are reserved about the impact “Too Sweet” has had on his career. Before the song’s March release, his 2024 tour dates (announced in January) had already sold out — even with its ambitious 100-plus-date routing that included three nights at the Kia Forum in Inglewood, Calif., and an unprecedented four nights at New York’s Forest Hills Stadium.
All of this adds up to “Too Sweet,” one of 2024’s biggest hits by just about any metric, essentially amounting to a nonessential luxury for Hozier. While the song’s success — which it achieved much quicker than the slow-burning smash that was “Take Me to Church” — has bowled over Hozier and his team, they’re hard-pressed to cite significant doors the song has opened for the already massive star.
Hozier does point to recent appearances on The Late Show With Stephen Colbert and at the iHeart Radio Festival as two particular opportunities that “Too Sweet” may have made possible. But anyway, he says, his calendar was so packed this year that it might have been difficult for him to take advantage of more than that: “Because the tour schedule was already in place when that song blew up, [you’re still] fulfilling everything that you were planning on doing anyway. Your routing is done. So even when you get those invites, it can be a challenge.”
“Does it change [anything]?” Downey wonders aloud when reflecting on the song’s impact. “I guess it just reminds people that he’s there.”
Since it has worked so well for him so far, could Hozier just follow this career path indefinitely — plugging away as a live favorite, coming back with one gigantic pop smash every 10 years and then returning to business as usual?
“I mean, it’d be fun to be 44 and have a No. 1 hit! It’d be fun to be 54, to be 64… Can you guarantee me the No. 1 when I’m in my 80s?” he asks excitedly in response to the idea. “I’m going to be doing whatever I can to stay alive, man. I’m going to be hiring people to be doing all the weird blood transfusions, [to] hook me up to whatever machine.”
Regardless of whether he can still top the Hot 100 when he’s of retirement age, the plan from day one — which his team has enacted brilliantly over the past decade — was to have Hozier achieve the kind of long-term career stability where he could still be performing at a high level as a sexagenarian.
“ ‘We see you as a Bruce Springsteen — we see you as an artist who’ll still be releasing albums long after I’m gone,’ ” Downey remembers telling Hozier very early in his career. “He’s 34 years of age. We want to see him still working like U2 and Bruce Springsteen and a whole lot of other acts at 64. And the only way that I feel that he can do that is by pacing it. And actually not making decisions based on money and making decisions that are right for his long-term career, not his short-term.”
Hozier photographed September 19, 2024 at Black Rabbit Rose in Los Angeles.
Austin Hargrave
And while “Too Sweet” might not have had much calculable immediate career impact for 2024 Hozier, it might very well move him closer to that long-term goal. Sommer has noted how Hozier’s social media and streaming stats have spiked since his “Too Sweet” success: between 1 million and 2 million new followers each on Instagram, TikTok and YouTube, as well as an additional 30 million followers on Spotify. Those numbers indicated increased fan demand that could turbo-charge Hozier’s already-scorching live success.
“All those [2024] shows sold out instantly,” Sommer emphasizes. “So how much demand was there? How many people were unable to buy tickets at the time? And we really didn’t get carried away anywhere. We didn’t try to exhaust demand anywhere. So I would say that there was still pent-up demand after the March on-sale. And now we have this song…”
All of this has led Sommer to a conclusion that might stun any remaining listeners unaware of Hozier’s recent level-up — and maybe even a few who are: “I’m incredibly confident [that] he’s a stadium-level headliner.”
That may seem like a big leap for Hozier, who has never played a full arena tour in the United States — but Sommer doesn’t see it that way. “A lot of these amphitheaters are bigger than a lot of these indoor buildings,” he says. “You look at the [four nights at] Forest Hills… what’s that, 60,000 tickets? And it could’ve been more? We chose to play some select arenas in places just because we felt that it might be a better fan experience, and [Hozier is] very mindful of the fan experience. So by no means would this be skipping steps in any way.”
Downey says that the current live plan for Hozier (following his Dec. 21 appearance as musical guest on Saturday Night Live, his first since 2014) is to go back on the road next year, “kind of maybe May to October,” including some major festival headlining gigs, with dates to be announced soon. His own upcoming dates aren’t likely to be stadiums, but Downey agrees those are in his future. “I think that stadiums will definitely be on album four,” she says. “And I do think he’s ready… the slow burn, with the 10 years of him touring, has been from starting him small and gradually building and building and building, that he is perfectly comfortable now in arenas, and he’s perfectly comfortable playing to 40, 50,000 people in a field. So a stadium would be just the next step, I think. With ease.”
Hozier allows himself another rare moment of being pumped about his success when discussing this recent run of momentum — capped, if not created, by “Too Sweet” — and “the ambitious feeling of opportunity” that comes with following it up with all eyes once again upon him. “I can do whatever I want. I can do something totally different, I can respond to [“Too Sweet”] with something else, or something different… it’s nice,” he says. “It just feels like the sky is open, and ‘Off you go.’ ”
This story appears in the Dec. 14, 2024, issue of Billboard.
Bro, everything I thought I knew was gone. I thought I had a grasp on s–t. The songs that’s been out three weeks went up more than the classic records.”
It’s an early Tuesday afternoon in mid-November and Tyler, The Creator is still in disbelief. Just a few weeks earlier, he’d released his new album, Chromakopia, and the response was unlike any in his entire career. “It’s been a f–king crack in my reality, for this album where I’m just crying about being 33 like a b–ch.”
Three days before our conversation, he’d performed a set largely dedicated to the album at Camp Flog Gnaw Carnival, a two-day music festival in Los Angeles that he started in 2012 and continues to curate. This year was the 10th edition, a triumphant moment for an event that began with seven acts and now feels like a smaller, more walkable Coachella for locals — complete with music and food and rides and merch and fashionable selections from Tyler’s line GOLF — in the Dodger Stadium parking lot.
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At Flog Gnaw, Tyler took the stage atop a shipping container, wearing a green suit fit for a bellhop in a slightly bizarro Emerald City, a bust-like mask with cutout holes for his eyes and an Afro with two peaks and a valley between them — an ensemble with hints of Janet Jackson circa Rhythm Nation (at least from the neck down), and which Tyler described to me as both “Captain Crunch” and “a gay dictator.” It’s the uniform of the character he takes on for his new album, both haunting and militant, the latest alter ego the Hawthorne, Calif., native has assumed. After performing the first four tracks, he paused to thank those in the audience for their love — and let them know that Chromakopia was No. 1 on the Billboard 200 for a third straight week. Only Taylor Swift and Sabrina Carpenter did three straight weeks in 2024. “To do that, at my 10th carnival, in my f–king city, what are we talking about?” The crowd cheered for him and themselves: Together, they did it.
Tyler released his album on a Monday instead of the standard Friday; he wanted people to start their week with Chromakopia instead of in the middle of the night as their weekend began. The decision reflected three distinct sides of his personality — putting the music over everything, rejecting industry norms and a confidence that, regardless of the day of the week, his fans will show up. “The hope was that people listened actively, not alongside thousands of other things that come out every Friday,” says Jen Mallory, president of Columbia Records, which has been releasing Tyler’s music since 2017’s Flower Boy. “Of course, shortening the release week is not an instinctive idea in today’s market, but when you deliver the creative T did alongside the album — visual trailers, touring announcements, live events and more — it was undeniable. And the absolutely massive response indicates that his hypothesis was more than correct.”
“I kept telling n—as for a year-and-a-half, ‘Whatever I put out next, I’m putting that b–ch out on a Monday,’ ” Tyler says. “I’m not doing that stupid Friday s–t. We’re putting that s–t out on Monday and everyone’s going to know about it.” The plan worked, with Tyler hitting the top spot that week, even while handicapping himself with a shortened sales week. Only Beyoncé, Swift, Carpenter, Travis Scott, Billie Eilish and Kendrick Lamar had bigger first weeks in 2024. “I knew people would be interested,” he says with a confusion that he’s embracing. “But I didn’t expect this.”
Luis Perez
Following his short Flog Gnaw speech, he transitioned into songs from his catalog. But even as fans enjoyed his earlier material — belting every word of “Dogtooth,” moshing to “Lumberjack” — there was a palpable eagerness for Tyler to get back to the new album. The opposite is typically true at festivals; an artist’s faithful primarily in attendance to see their favorite bring the hits to life. But that Saturday night, Tyler was performing for people who hadn’t turned off Chromakopia since its release 20 days prior. And as he marched through his eighth studio album, the crowd was right with him, screaming along to every lyric, ad-lib, chant — even Tyler’s recordings of his mother that appear throughout the album and rang out as if she was the voice of the nighttime California sky.
Tyler and Sexyy Red traded verses and threw ass at the crowd during “Sticky,” a big fun song built around horns and whistles and beating on the cafeteria table. “I wanted something for the drill team at the f–king pep rallies,” Tyler told me, “something for the band to play at halftime.” His wish came true before his performance; Jackson State University’s Sonic Boom of the South broke it out earlier in the day in its matchup against Alabama State. He brought out ScHoolboy Q — whom Tyler describes as one of his few real friends in the music industry — for “Thought I Was Dead,” and, 10 minutes later, he performed “Balloon” with Doechii and Daniel Caesar, fueling a “Doechii, Doechii” chant and thanking Caesar for his help in finishing Chromakopia. The love and appreciation was at an all-time high, both in the crowd and onstage.
“I have friends that’s been to about every show,” Tyler says after Flog Gnaw is over, “and they were like, ‘That’s the loudest crowd I’ve ever heard.’ ”
I was prepared for the adoration Tyler gets in his city because I saw him in June at the Kia Forum in Inglewood, up the street from where he grew up. It wasn’t even his show — this was The Pop Out: Ken & Friends, Lamar’s first concert since his beef began in the spring with Drake. “I wasn’t even supposed to go — I was in Atlanta working on this album,” Tyler explains. “But I landed that morning and couldn’t miss this s–t. And I don’t even get FOMO at all, n—a — I’ll go to sleep. But I’m cool with Kenny and Dave [Free] and Tim [Hinshaw] from Free Lunch. So I went home, showered and ran straight there.”
He performed two songs, including “Earfquake” from his 2019 album, IGOR. Seemingly everyone at the Forum knew every word. “I genuinely think I’m better at my R&B singing s–t as a whole than my rap s–t,” he tells me. “And those are usually my biggest records.” And when Tyler screamed “Say what!,” the capacity crowd turned into the Southern California Community Choir, belting, “Don’t leeeeeeeeeeeeeeave, it’s my fault.”
Tyler, The Creator photographed November 20, 2024 at Quixote Studios in Los Angeles.
Luis Perez
For years, Tyler has continued to complicate what a pop star can embody. He’s taken on different personas, different looks, rapped about different things and keeps getting bigger and bigger. But as he’s become one of popular music’s most reliable and admired mavericks, he’s existed outside of the L.A. hip-hop zeitgeist. The city wasn’t a leading identifier for him, at least compared with a Lamar, a YG, a Vince Staples. But he’s central to the current historic run of Los Angeles music, as well as the community that makes L.A. one of the special hubs for hip-hop.
“I’m really from the city,” he says. As he continues to talk about home, his accent gets thicker and thicker. That love for Los Angeles is why he started Flog Gnaw in the first place: “Outside of sports stuff, it felt like L.A. didn’t have something that was its own thing.” With this year’s fantasy lineup — including Staples, Kaytranada, Playboi Carti, André 3000, Erykah Badu, Denzel Curry, Faye Webster, Blood Orange and Syd — Tyler’s wish to at least somewhat correct this came true. “I’m happy that Flog Gnaw has folks from the city feeling like this is theirs,” he says a bit coyly. “At least that’s what it feels like every year.”
“I’m not who they were introduced to at 20. I’m not even who I was a year ago,” Tyler says, sounding a bit annoyed at the notion that he possibly could be. “When they’re like, ‘I want the old version,’ I know it’s because they’re still there. But I’m not. And I’m OK with it because my identity doesn’t rest in a version of myself.”
I first saw Tyler, The Creator perform in 2012 at the Hammerstein Ballroom in Midtown Manhattan. His rap collective, Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All (OFWGKTA), had become an online sensation over the last few years — not just for its transgressive music, but also for antics that felt like the Black evolution of Jackass — and there was a level of buzz around the show, both from the rap-fan concertgoers and the young music bloggers eager to see if the phenomenon would translate offline.
While some in the audience anticipated possible appearances by erstwhile members Earl Sweatshirt and Frank Ocean, it was Tyler, the gang’s de facto leader and chief provocateur, who defined the show. He’d mostly been known for his 2009 debut album, Bastard, and the Odd Future mixtape Radical that came the following year, both notable for their distinctive production and shocking lyrics. But Tyler’s true star turn came in 2011 on Late Night With Jimmy Fallon, Odd Future’s first nationally televised appearance. Beforehand, Tyler tweeted, “I want to scare the f–k out of old white people that live in middle f–king America.”
He kept his word, as he and fellow Odd Future rapper Hodgy Beats performed “Sandwitches” from Tyler’s second album, 2011’s Goblin, backed by The Roots. They wore ski masks and raced around the stage like it was a hardcore show as the camera occasionally panned to scattered garden gnomes and this one creepy white girl floating around the band, her long dark hair covering her face like she was in The Ring. Tyler eventually left the stage, ran to Fallon’s desk and finished the episode on the host’s back. It was a cultural reset — an undeniable TV moment.
Like many at that 2012 Hammerstein show, I wanted to feel that Fallon energy in real life. And while Tyler did replicate it there, my own takeaway was very different: Yes, he was the leader, a true frontman, but even more so, he was head cheerleader for every Odd Future member. When Frank sat at the piano and sang “White,” Tyler went to the side, pulled out a Polaroid camera and started taking photos. As Earl, in his first performance in two years, pushed through his verse on “Oldie,” Tyler brought their entire crew onstage to back him — a wall of support, a visualization of a musical and cultural movement that deserved attention.
Luis Perez
Tyler, The Creator loves to love things. He’s a fan of the highest order, a quality that often gets lost during a climb to the top and a trait of his that hasn’t wavered to this day. When I arrived for our first of two conversations for this story, a couple of days before his Flog Gnaw performance, Tyler was standing with his longtime managers, Christian and Kelly Clancy, obsessing over something on his phone. Someone had sent Tyler a Pharrell Williams performance clip, one he’d been hunting for for the last decade, and his mood was a mix of Christmas morning, winning the lottery and discovering buried treasure. His enthusiasm was entrancing: a star whose inspirations still made him feel like a little kid.
“The ones who were the North Star for me, if you generalize it, they were always left of center,” Tyler says. So it’s no shock that he decided to musically and aesthetically follow suit. “If I’m 12 and folks at school are like, ‘That’s weird, that’s wack,’ I’m like, ‘But the n—as on my walls will think it’s cool. And y’all can’t compare to them. So f–k y’all.’ ”
That mentality is part of what makes him a singular artist. He isn’t shackled by the fear of failure, the driving force that stifles creativity. The other driving force comes from his mother, Bonita Smith. “I got hugs at home,” Tyler proudly says. “I’m very lucky and grateful to have grown up in a house full of love, with a cheerleader that was like, ‘Be yourself,’ ‘Do what you want,’ ‘F–k what they think,’ ‘I’m your friend.’ ” On Chromakopia’s first track, “St. Chroma,” she says, “Don’t you ever, in your motherf–king life, dim your light for nobody.” The combination of her influence, teenage rebellion and the blueprints left by his favorite artists gave him a confidence that became foundational. “I have no choice but to be opinionated and don’t care if I look dumb as f–k. Even if I change my mind the next day.”
Chromakopia, like most of Tyler’s discography, tells the story of his life in the present. “Everything is self-indulgent to me,” he says about making songs, because he’s not doing it to be relatable or appease an audience or some former version of his fandom. Few artists have as honest and combative of a relationship with listeners as Tyler. He’s constantly vacillating between inspiration and frustration. He loves watching people respond to his tweets about favorite lyrics and songs, what grew on them, what they hated at first. Because it’s not about whether you like his music or not — it’s that he craves true engagement. “Expound on that f–king thought, b–ch,” Tyler says of the opinions, the comments, the takes, the lack of articulation about why you like or dislike something. “If I was president, the first thing I would do is take podcast mics away from n—as.”
It can be risky for artists to abandon the sound or subject matter that gave them initial fame, a decision that some fans treat as a betrayal. But this album, much like 2017’s Flower Boy, 2019’s IGOR and 2021’s Call Me If You Get Lost, is a time capsule, a front-row seat to the life and mind and current creative headspace of Tyler Okonma. On Chromakopia, he explores themes ranging from monogamy (“Darling, I”) to unplanned pregnancies and fatherhood (“Hey Jane”) to the trappings of fame that run throughout the album. “It’s people saying that they can’t relate to the song,” Tyler says of “Noid,” the first single. “Of course you can’t. That’s why I made the song, because you don’t know what it’s like not to go outside and not own yourself, people stealing from you, voice-recording you, following n—as home, people trying to trap you — nobody trying to trap y’all n—as. I’m a catch.”
The album is deeply personal. “I’m a super extrovert, but I’m a very private person with my life,” Tyler says, “so putting some of this stuff on wax was a lot for me.” The day after Chromakopia’s release at a show in Atlanta, he went further: “It’s so honest that I think I had to wear a mask on my own face to get that s–t out.” He faces those fears on the album’s aptly titled emotional high point, “Take Your Mask Off,” and when he performed it at Flog Gnaw, by the song’s conclusion, his mask was gone.
Tyler does have a level of maturity that can come from growing up in public, which, as he points out, he did: “I’ve been famous and financially stable since I was 19, on my own since 16.” And now, at 33, he’s a veteran, making music about getting older and what it feels like. “I told my homie, ‘This is the 30s album,’ ” Tyler says. “This album is probably s–t that folks go through at 24, but I’ve lived a different life. N—as around me are having kids and families and really being adults and I’m over here like, ‘I think I’m going to paint my car pink.’ That feels crazy, but it’s all I know.”
Tyler, The Creator photographed November 20, 2024 at Quixote Studios in Los Angeles.
Luis Perez
And the reception to Chromakopia makes it clear that plenty of Tyler’s listeners do share his worries, anxieties, dilemmas. “People are connecting with the words in a way that feels bigger than me,” he says. “I’ve never hit people at this level.”
When I ask him about the album’s closer, “I Hope You Find Your Way Home,” he lights up. “I think the way you end an album is so important!” he exclaims. From Kevin Kendricks’ neck-tingling synthesizer to Tyler’s own background vocals alongside Daniel Caesar and Solange Knowles to his grand finale of a rap verse, it’s a reflection and a resolution, one filled with hope for our respective journeys ahead. “I knew that’s how I wanted to end it, with the synth, just letting n—as sit there and think about whatever the f–k just happened,” he says, clearly thrilled with the way he landed the plane.
But for Tyler, uncertainty about the future is also a source of joy. He’s currently dipping his toe back into acting, with his first feature film, the Josh Safdie-directed, Timothée Chalamet-starring Marty Supreme, on the horizon. “This is where I am at 33; who knows what I’ll be making at 36,” he says. “My 30s have been so much iller than my 20s. I’m excited for us to be 43 years old and see where we’ve taken it. I don’t know what the f–k I’m doing at that point, maybe bald — with one braid and a dangling earring, making gospel, telling everyone about the zucchinis.”
Whatever it is, he’s excited, as always, by the unknown. “I’ve never not stuck to my guns. Any version y’all see me in is the most honest version at that time,” Tyler says. He’s brash and bold and uncompromising about his art, but it’s also clear how grateful he feels. “I’m so blessed and fortunate. Thirteen years in and my latest s–t is my biggest. Sometimes it’s like, ‘What the f–k, this can’t be real.’ But then it’s also like, ‘I told y’all.’ It’s beautiful.”
This story appears in the Dec. 14, 2024, issue of Billboard.
Billboard hosted its first-ever R&B No. 1s party at The Box in New York on Sunday night (Sept. 8). Usher accepted the Entertainer of the Year award, after his “Good Good” collaboration with Summer Walker and 21 Savage became his sweet 16th No. 1 on R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay, extending his record for the most among all singers. Luther […]
It’s a crisp November night outside Brooklyn’s Barclays Center, and inside, Rod Wave has a sold-out audience of 12,000 hanging on his every word. As the 25-year-old rapper-singer nears the end of performing “Come See Me,” one of several hits off his 2023 blockbuster, Nostalgia, he pauses and walks toward a ladder that’s part of his stage design. Screams of “Don’t do it, Rod!” commence. “You have so much to live for!” yells a teenage girl near me.
Undeterred by the cautionary cries, the burly locomotive of a man begins his ascent. As he climbs, a thunderous roar erupts and buries the shrieking voice next to me whose pleas go unanswered. Standing on the edge of the stage balcony 15 feet up, Rod surveys the crowd before plummeting onto a landing pad. The lights go out and the song comes to a screeching halt. Fans in the crowd play a quick round of “Where’s Rod?” to locate the Florida megastar — who soon reemerges, Superman-like, without a scratch on his teddy bear face.
Like everything Rod does, this wasn’t a stunt for clicks or social media fodder. It was much more profound than that: He has struggled in the past with depression and anxiety and has always been open about having had suicidal thoughts, especially in the song’s music video. “That was from a dream I had,” Rod explains of the stage fall days after the show. “When I come out, walk onstage and look at [the ladder], it’s really to show people, ‘Don’t get up and do that when you can do this. You don’t know where life can take you.’ I’m walking out to a whole arena full of people looking back up at me. Imagine [if] I would’ve [gone through with committing suicide]. I would’ve never made it to this part. There’s a whole meaning behind it — a bigger picture.”
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Since Rod entered the hip-hop scene with his debut album, Ghetto Gospel, in 2019, his penchant for soul-grabbing lyrics and entrancing hooks has made him a beloved figure. His breakthrough single, the album’s “Heart on Ice,” was as chilling as its title suggests. Rod’s gruff takes about backstabbers and broken friendships earned widespread praise, including from his heroes-turned-peers Lil Baby, 21 Savage and Lil Durk, who appeared on the song’s remix. “Heart on Ice” became Rod’s Billboard Hot 100 debut, peaking at No. 25 — the first of 70 entries on the chart he has accrued since.
While many of today’s biggest hip-hop acts like Travis Scott and Playboi Carti thrive on mosh-pit anthems, Rod has stuck to his roots as an unabashed lover, using music to express his heartbreak and inner turmoil. His ability to hopscotch among genres has become his hallmark and the secret to his success, and he hit a new artistic apex on Nostalgia, which debuted with 137,000 equivalent album units in September, according to Luminate — a career best. Whether he’s contemplating his road to fame on “Long Journey” or reimagining himself as a tragic literary hero on the love-drunk “Great Gatsby,” Rod’s versatility is always evident.
“Rod pioneered this lane of struggle rap, which, given his age, is pretty incredible,” says Todd Moscowitz, CEO of Rod’s label, Alamo Records. “He’s one of the great songwriters of his generation and channels emotion and vulnerability in a unique way that people relate to. He has half of the NFL in tears on Instagram when he drops a single.”
Since Ghetto Gospel, Rod’s subsequent three albums — 2021’s SoulFly, 2022’s Beautiful Mind and Nostalgia — have topped the Billboard 200, making him the third artist to nab at least three No. 1s on the chart since the start of 2021. The only others are Taylor Swift and Drake.
“Being compared to Taylor Swift, you can’t even wrap your head around that kind of sh-t,” Rod says. “I remember ninth grade, being on my school bus listening to ‘Blank Space.’ Being in these conversations, it don’t really hit you. I was just on the sidelines. Now I’m really in the game. I went from the nosebleeds to the franchise player of the team with three rings.”
Eric Ryan Anderson
Rod Wave’s first-ever performance was at a high school football teammate’s birthday party in 2015. At the time, the artist born Rodarius Green was a budding rapper from St. Petersburg, Fla., working at Krispy Kreme. He enjoyed listening to 2Pac, Kodak Black and Kanye West but also appreciated the soulful pop sensibilities of Adele and Ed Sheeran. That eclectic musical taste helped him find his voice — one that spoke to the harsh street realities he and his family survived.
Both his father and uncle served time in prison. Rod, too, had problems on the streets and was charged with armed robbery at 15. After spending several months in jail, his father looked to instill discipline in him. “I started playing football because I got in trouble, and my dad wanted me to do something better with my free time,” Rod explains. “So when I got out of jail, he put me in football. It was just a new thing for me. It’s a lot of discipline I learned then that I carry with me now.”
While Rod enjoyed the camaraderie that came from working in the trenches with teammates, his true passion was music. A singer without any vocal training, he would showcase his talents between classes at Lakeview High School, the hallways becoming his stage. Yet the confidence Rod exuded when he belted for his peers disappeared when it came to actually recording his music and uploading it online — until his classmate and former producer, Elijah Simmons, took matters into his own hands, recording a video of him singing in the hallway one day and posting it on Facebook.
Though Rod feared rejection, to his surprise, the video caught the attention of one of his football teammates, who later asked him at practice to perform at his birthday party. At the time, Rod didn’t have a car and wasn’t getting paid to perform — but the thought of doing so for the first time in front of his classmates, especially the girls, was motivation enough. “I walked to that motherf–ker. I was 17,” Rod remembers, chuckling. “You don’t really know if your stuff is good enough at the time. I didn’t want to think that I was one of them people who think they raw. I was [wondering] like, ‘Am I really good?’ ”
Eric Ryan Anderson
Rod soon went from booking birthday parties to hole-in-the-wall Florida clubs, and his stock began to rise — so much so that fans would recognize him when pulling up to the Krispy Kreme drive-thru. Shyness usually got the best of him; he shrugged off questions about his rapping alter ego when he was on the clock. Balancing high school, a growing rap career and a part-time job was a lot for a teenager, and after his father, Rodney “Fatz” Green, saw the focused hunger in his son, he wanted to lend his support. Green and Rod’s uncle Derek Lane forged Hit House Entertainment — Rod’s own label — to help him realize his rap dreams. With Lane designated as management, they leaned on Rod as their franchise player.
From December 2017 to December 2018, Rod released his acclaimed mixtape trilogy, Hunger Games, which featured songs like “Pain,” “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Heart 4 Sale” that portrayed the daily pain Rod endured. The music garnered millions of listens and eventually caught the attention of Alamo Records’ Moscowitz.
Founded in 2016, Alamo wasn’t initially a first-class destination for rap powerhouses. That changed when it signed Lil Durk and Rod two years later. (As part of its deal with Rod, Alamo established a partnership with Hit House.) Before signing with Alamo, Durk had spent five years at Def Jam and was looking for a change of scenery to help elevate his career. Rod and Durk soon became the twin giants of Alamo, evolving into Billboard chart-toppers and streaming goliaths who quickly came to define hip-hop in a new decade.
“The other day, I had to text Durk, ‘I’ve been listening to you since middle school.’ I was able to DM him and [watch it] land. He was just like, ‘You hard, too!’ I was just like, ‘I been listening to you. I f–k with you. I rock with you,’ ” Rod says with a child-like smile. “When you in the moment and you meet people face-to-face, it slips my mind because I have to be Rod Wave. F–k all that. I’m a fan. I’ve been listening to your sh-t.”
Durk isn’t the only star who has left Rod awestruck. Drake and Sheeran have praised his accomplishments, especially the latter. On Beautiful Mind, Rod interpolated Sheeran’s “U.N.I.” from his debut album for his song “Alone.” The track caught the attention of Sheeran, who first met Rod after WPWR (Power 105.1) New York radio host Charlamagne Tha God learned of the rapper’s adoration for the pop giant.
“Ed’s a phenomenal guy. That’s one of my favorite artists. He’s just real people,” Rod says. “When you looking at it from a fan point of view, they don’t even feel like real people. It’s like you know them, but they’re like figures in your mind. They don’t even feel reachable.”
The MGM National Harbor Hotel in Washington, D.C., holds special significance to Rod. It’s where he’s staying after performing at the city’s Capital One Arena the night before. It’s also where he first learned about the coronavirus. Rod was just seven dates into his first headlining tour when he played D.C. on March 9, 2020, and news about a national lockdown derailed his planned nationwide trek. “My dream got shut down just like that,” he remembers, still sounding dejected. “I always wanted to go on tour, travel America, see the cities and get paid to do it. When I first was able to do it, it got took away from me.”
The pandemic tested Rod’s patience. He landed a coveted performance slot on NPR’s Tiny Desk (Home) Concerts, but that paled in comparison with the venues he had been filling. Still, the thought of hitting the road and being with his fans again fueled him. Rod’s mission was clear: Get back on tour. But before he could do that, he had to fulfill a different calling: becoming a first-time father to his newborn twin girls.
“I [won’t] lie: [Fatherhood] made me softer. Back then, I could just move and feel nothing. Now I feel like they made me a little weaker,” he says while his kids hang out in the next room. “I can’t do that. I have to get home. I’ll be gone with my homeboys for three days or on the road for a week, and I’m just like, ‘We have to get a jet and fly the kids.’ ”
Eric Ryan Anderson
Instead of fatherhood being a hurdle, it motivated Rod, especially when touring resumed. In 2021, he came back stronger than ever, notching his first Billboard 200 No. 1 album with SoulFly and two top 20 Hot 100 hits in “Tombstone” and “Street Runner.” He realized his wish of returning to the road, but this time — with the help of powerhouse hip-hop festival promoter Rolling Loud, which in 2021 launched a national touring branch of its business with Rod as its first tour — he was playing amphitheaters, a step up from the clubs and theaters of his previous tour.
“We’ve witnessed his evolution from the start, and what sets him apart is his unwavering consistency,” Rolling Loud co-founder Matt Ziegler says. “His music consistently reaches a high standard, accompanied by impassioned performances that have become his trademark. As we observed his skyrocketing music consumption and the widespread acclaim for his shows, it inspired us to acquire his SoulFly tour, leading to the launch of our Rolling Loud Presents division.”
Ziegler’s Rolling Loud partner, Tariq Cherif, calls Rod’s success “truly unique; he diligently tours during key moments, aligning with new releases, and he remains authentically himself. His vulnerability, artistic authenticity and genuine connection with people set him apart. When we organized his tour, many doubted he could fill amphitheaters, but he defied expectations by selling out most dates.”
And Rod was already thinking bigger: He wanted arenas. Notching his second and third Billboard 200 No. 1s — Beautiful Mind in August 2022 and Nostalgia in September 2023 — helped him fulfill that dream. Seeing thousands of people of different ages and races singing his songs in a bonfire-like experience at his concerts excited Rod and his team. “His shows are like going to karaoke with 15,000 people,” Moscowitz says. “Everyone sings along and there’s a real sense of community.”
“What we figured out is where his core fans are and where they are going to support [him]. Then we’d mix the routing in to get to these places that make sense,” adds Beau Williams, Rod’s touring manager. “Even going through this, we found some diamonds in the rough in a lot of these cities that a lot of artists can’t go to the way he’s doing great numbers.” And with his zealous fans behind him, Rod’s goals continue to widen: His eyes are now set on stadium touring and Grammy Awards.
“This is the new chapter. People catching on slowly but surely,” Rod says. “That’s why I say in four or five years, we’ll probably be in stadiums selling 250,000 [tickets] the first week. That’s what I’m here for — Grammys and sh-t.”
This story will appear in the Dec. 9, 2023, issue of Billboard.
“I forgot to wear the knee pads,” Karol G says ruefully. “I’m going to have scrapes.”
She beams. For a soaking wet pop star who has just been dragged through a shallow pool, Karol looks remarkably happy.
Moments before, a group of writhing, shirtless male dancers had lifted Karol, dressed in a white bikini and transparent baggy pants, high above the water as she performed a medley of songs from her unprecedented past year in music, including material from her chart-topping February album, Mañana Será Bonito; the edgier August follow-up, Mañana Será Bonito (Bichota Season); and a small teaser of her new single with Kali Uchis, “Labios Mordidos.” Her arms knifed back-and-forth through the pool in fierce synchronicity with her platoon of dancers — all water-drenched sexiness, but a punishing physical routine nonetheless. After Karol dries off, wrings out her pants and gets her glam touched up, she’ll do it all over again.
“I want it to be spectacular,” she says matter-of-factly of the roughly four-minute Billboard Latin Music Awards performance. To that end, she enlisted renowned choreographer Parris Goebel, whose work includes Rihanna’s Super Bowl halftime show performance, to continue pushing her as a dancer. “Dance doesn’t come so easy to me,” Karol admits. “To do the things I do, I have to rehearse a lot.” Earlier this year, Goebel choreographed Karol’s MTV Video Music Awards performance.
“She understands what I want to express in my movements, and also, she gets something out of me that I’m still in the process of understanding,” Karol says. “I’ve learned a lot about myself this year. Even though it would seem I’ve arrived at a point where I could relax and let things run, life keeps showing me that I’ve still got a lot of things to do, a lot of things to give.”
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Twenty-four hours later, Karol is calm (and dry) in a quiet Los Angeles studio, talking with her usual expressiveness and candor in sentences punctuated by crescendos, accents and exclamations and augmented by enthusiastic gesticulations. In her many music videos, Karol usually presents one of two ways. There’s the bichota, or badass, sexy and powerful and not afraid to show it. And then there’s the smiling (or occasionally melancholy) girl next door who enjoys celebrating love and doesn’t shy from displays of vulnerability. In person, the young woman born Carolina García in Medellín, Colombia, is all those things, but she’s also warm, exuberant and disarmingly earnest, a demeanor that has remained intact through my many encounters with her over the years, even as her popularity has soared.
Her hair is pulled back in a tousled ponytail, its platinum color matching the short, clingy silk dress that shows off her sculpted physique. At 32 years old, Karol has worked hard to look like this. Earlier this year, her doctor prescribed an eating plan to alleviate a long-standing colon disorder; at the same time, after a lifetime of exercising, she upped her training regime to be able to perform for three hours in a stadium. “I wanted to be healthy, and I needed to do a ton of cardio for the shows. And my body began to change,” she says. “It was beautiful because I’d always been told certain changes took time, and it was true.”
You could say the same of Karol’s upward career trajectory. She just wrapped an extraordinary year in which she became the first Latina woman (and second artist ever) to top the Billboard 200 with an all-Spanish-language album (Mañana Será Bonito); the top female Latin artist on Billboard’s year-end charts (behind only Bad Bunny and Peso Pluma); and the winner of album of the year at November’s Latin Grammys, as well as urban album of the year — the first woman to win the latter.
Karol is also the first Latina (and still one of only a few women) to headline a global stadium tour and the highest-grossing Latin touring artist of the year by far. According to Billboard Boxscore, in 2023, she grossed $146.9 million from just 19 shows and sold 843,000 tickets through Nov. 19, almost doubling the $86.7 million the Latin runner-up, RBD, grossed from 18 shows in the same period.
Karol G photographed November 11, 2023 at The Powder Room Studio in Los Angeles. Balenciaga jacket, Intimissimi underwear, Replika Vintage shoes.
Vijat Mohindra
Beyond her accolades — or perhaps, more accurately, behind them — is Karol’s shrewd business sense. Her long-standing recording agreement with Universal Music Latino, which signed her to her first major deal in 2016, ended after Mañana Será Bonito came out in February. Instead of re-upping or accepting any of the “incredible” deals she says other labels offered, she launched her own Bichota Records, invested in its staff and infrastructure — much of it based in her native Colombia — and inked a distribution deal with Interscope that provides her with that company’s full, multinational support and staff but lets her keep her masters moving forward, including Bichota Season’s.
“We wanted to stay in the Universal family,” says Noah Assad, who has managed Karol since 2020, now through his Habibi Management. “They’re the ones who bet on her in the beginning, and we believe in longevity. No one knows an artist more than the infrastructure who had you in the beginning.”
Even so, he adds, “She was ready to build her own label, her own structure, her own team. She was already betting on herself without getting the gain. Independence is not just being independent; she had to build this whole infrastructure. Not every artist is made for independence, but knowing that she could [be] made it the right decision.”
Landing Karol, says Interscope executive vp Nir Seroussi, came from “a very practical conversation that I had with [manager and friend] Noah, asking, ‘What do you want?’ And he said, ‘She’s a boss. She wants to feel empowered, and she’s ambitious. She wants to have a seat at the table with the Billie Eilishes and the Olivia [Rodrigos] of the world.’ ”
Karol’s message to the label, Seroussi recalls, was clear: “I’ve come this far. I want more. I want to sit next to general-market artists because that’s how I feel: Latina but with an A-league fan base.”
But as she eyes mainstream global stardom, Karol is, as usual, prepared to be patient.
“It’s a fine line,” she notes. “In that rush to go global, music can lose its essence. So we’re going step by step. Yes, they’ve brought proposals [to the table], but I’m not in a rush. It would be amazing to fill stadiums in Asia, for example, but I truly feel happy and thankful with what I’m doing today. We’ll find the way.”
In an era of ever more rapid rises to stardom for Latin artists — witness Peso Pluma and, before him, Bad Bunny — Karol G’s ascent has been steady but slow, even laborious, and compounded by being a woman in a Latin world where female-led hits historically are scant. She started as a child pop act, competing on Colombia’s X Factor at 14, and didn’t hail from the barrio but from a solid middle-class family. When reggaetón descended on her native Medellín, she got hooked, but pursuing a career in the genre presented additional hurdles: She started recording and performing it at a time when men completely dominated the genre — as they still do — and she was considered an oddity, facing a highly skeptical industry: Aside from Ivy Queen a generation before, there weren’t any other women to measure her against.
But alongside her producer/co-writer Ovy on the Drums, Karol developed a sound — melodic, lyrically conversational, sparsely arranged and open to experimentation — that was very much geared toward women, touching on themes of empowerment and vulnerability with a genuinely personal point of view and embracing sexuality without being too overtly sexual. Stars like Nicky Jam and J Balvin endorsed her and recorded with her, and in 2016, Universal signed her.
“People got ‘married’ to Karol G,” says Raymond Acosta, head of talent management for Habibi, which also represents Bad Bunny, Eladio Carrión and Mora. “Her fans, even when they disagree with her, see her as a sister. For many of them, she’s not simply an artist. She’s family.”
A prolific, and by all accounts tireless recording artist, Karol built her fan base by being sincere on social media, by constantly releasing music and by maintaining a clear, consistent vision of who she was and what she wanted. Her debut album, 2017’s Unstoppable, released when she was 26, debuted at No. 2 on Billboard’s Top Latin Albums chart, back when she had 3.5 million Instagram followers; today, she has 70 million.
Her first big hits were collaborations with men, beginning with “Ahora Me Llama” with Bad Bunny in 2017, which peaked at No. 10 on Hot Latin Songs. Her first No. 1 was 2018’s “Dame Tu Cosita,” alongside El Chombo and Pitbull. By then, Karol had been at Universal for three years without a massive hit of her own. All around her, reggaetoneros were scoring quick Hot Latin Songs No. 1s, even as she relentlessly released music; to date, she has logged 60 entries on the multimetric chart, the most for a Latin female artist.
“I started in 2006, and now it’s 2023,” says Karol bluntly. “My first songs were 15, 16 years ago. You spend all that time working and thinking, ‘When is my time?’ People on social media always show the goal: the cars, the money, the luxury goods, and everyone at home is thinking, ‘Why doesn’t that happen to me?’ But it’s not that easy. Everything has a process. Yes, I sometimes had doubts, but if I didn’t do this, what was I going to do? I am music. Every time anything happens to me, I want to write a song. Everything for me is a song.”
Tiffany Brown catsuit and jacket, Retrofête x Keren Wolf earrings.
Vijat Mohindra
Finally, in fall 2019, she released the song: “Tusa,” a track about getting over heartbreak, which she wrote with Ovy on the Drums and Keityn and recorded with Nicki Minaj. It spent four weeks at No. 1 on Hot Latin Songs, underscoring Karol’s status as a Latin artist to contend with, who could collaborate with a top American rapper, while cementing her place as a woman who could relate to other women, tell their stories, voice their concerns, vent for them. (It also established the potent trifecta of Karol, Ovy and Keityn, which has since churned out a succession of chart-topping hits including the No. 1s “Provenza” and “TQG” with Shakira.)
“As a woman, she has always had a very clear notion of her identity and what she wants to tell fans, and she has taken that female power to the next level, making women feel like bichotas,” says Ovy, referring to the title of the global Karol hit that has become synonymous with female power. “She has always been very clear about what she wants to musically show the world, and as her producer from day one, I’ve always understood every move she makes. Anything she has in her mind, I turn into music.”
There is a definite line between stardom and superstardom, and for several years, Karol G inched ever closer to the latter, yet didn’t quite reach it. She played clubs, festivals, shows throughout Latin America, anything to be seen, but never had a proper routed headlining tour. Still, her second album, 2019’s Ocean, debuted at No. 2 on Top Latin Albums, and she became the top Latin female artist on Billboard’s year-end charts, a spot she has maintained ever since. She also toured the United States for the first time as a guest on Gloria Trevi’s 21-date Diosa de la Noche trek.
In 2021, she got her first Top Latin Albums No. 1 with her intensely personal KG0516 and launched her first headlining tour, playing theaters. The Bichota Tour — named after the single but by now synonymous with Karol herself — grossed $15.4 million, sold 214,000 tickets and opened Karol’s eyes to possibilities she hadn’t seriously considered. A major catalyst was the icy blue wigs — matching Karol’s hair color on the album cover and her cold, vulnerable state of mind — that fans took to wearing to the shows, an unprecedented display of fandom for a Latin artist.
“I think it was the way each person connected more closely with me,” Karol reflects. “It wasn’t just the blue wigs. I noticed [later] so many people changing their hair color in step with me. I thought it was extraordinary how a hair color can define a moment in your life.”
More importantly, “I realized that, thank God, this Karol G thing was a family and not a moment. I felt these people were there with me and would always be there, no matter what,” she says earnestly. Reading social media comments guided her. Fans who had seen her years before in a club now wanted to see her in a theater. “I began to understand there was a connection. When someone came and said, ‘I think you’re ready to do arenas,’ I thought, ‘Why not? If 3,000 people saw me in a theater, it means there are 12,000 more people who didn’t see me. Let’s go sell arenas.’ ”
Paumé Los Angeles bodysuit, Jimmy Choo shoes.
Vijat Mohindra
The ensuing $trip Love arena tour in 2022 grossed $72.2 million and sold 424,000 tickets. Which again made Karol and her team consider bigger venues — in this case, stadiums.
“It’s sort of mind-boggling to sit here in early November 2023 and think that in November 2021 she was starting her first headline tour of North America ever,” says UTA partner Jbeau Lewis, booking agent for Karol and Bad Bunny, among others. “The fact that she headlined predominantly theaters in 2021, then arenas in 2022, then jumped to stadiums in 2023 is unprecedented for any genre. I think it’s easy to talk about Karol as a leader in Latin music, but based on the success she has had, especially in this year, she should be spoken about in the same breath as Taylor or Beyoncé.”
A year ago, Karol and her team weren’t even contemplating a stadium tour. The plan was to finish the arena tour in 2022, release Mañana Será Bonito in February 2023 and take a break — as much for herself as for her fans, who had seen her tour two years in a row — save for three Puerto Rico stadium shows in early March.
Then, Mañana Será Bonito exploded. When Karol played the first of the three Puerto Rico dates, she included a handful of the album’s songs, accompanied by her guitarist. Fans clamored for more, and by the third date, she was performing the entire album — and fans were singing along to every word.
“At that point, I realized I had to be very, very aware of what was happening with this music,” she says. After playing three stadium dates where fans knew all her brand-new material, she felt the moment was ripe for her to hit the road again.
A Karol G concert is a bit of a spiritual experience, one that unites multiple generations of Latin women under a single roof. Grandmothers and children cry in unison; professional women let their hair down and wear different-colored wigs. And in a twist, men know the songs, too.
“The most beautiful thing about my shows is people arrive with the intention to heal,” Karol says. “Their intentions are so beautiful that when I go onstage and all that energy is directed toward me, I feel like a battery that’s recharging and filling up, and sometimes I cry a lot in my shows. I try not to, but my heart feels like it’s going to burst.”
Replika Vintage bra, BIG HORN eyewear, Paumé Los Angeles bracelets and earrings.
Vijat Mohindra
After her arena tour, Karol had been able to summon the same energy for her Puerto Rico stadium shows. Now the challenge was to extend that into a full stadium tour.
“The first step was sitting down and making the decision to do stadiums. This was the subject of a lot of discussion with my team. Someone said, ‘You’re going to play stadiums? Beyoncé plays stadiums. Taylor Swift plays stadiums. Are you ready for that?’ I said, ‘No, I’m not ready. But I will be.’ ”
Her team crunched numbers and came up with six safe markets. Those six dates quickly became nine when New York, Los Angeles and Miami sold out and second dates had to be added. From there, the tour mushroomed to 16 dates in 13 cities.
Less than the team being resistant to the tour, Lewis says, “It just wasn’t the plan. Generally speaking, when you go out and tour in stadiums, you need 18 months to a year to execute. We made the decision in March to go out on tour in August, with a very short runway. But all of the signals were there. There was such demand. Rolling immediately into second nights in Los Angeles, Miami and New York was incredible, and that gave the team confidence to say, ‘Let’s add more cities to this tour.’ Then doing things like her headlining Lollapalooza and coming back six weeks later in Chicago and selling 52,000 tickets in Soldier Field, that’s really unprecedented.”
For Karol, the crash course of preparing to play stadiums came with intense pressure: Not only would she be performing for crowds of 50,000 or more, she would be doing it during the same summer as the Renaissance and Eras tours. “Karol G couldn’t be the one who looked like she had no business doing it,” she says.
“It was an enormous personal challenge, from how I looked, to how I thought, to how I put it together,” she continues. “I didn’t feel I was ready until I saw the videos from the first two dates. I always judge myself horribly, and nothing is exactly how I want it. But in this tour, as a woman, I played the videos and said, ‘Wow, I love what I see.’ ”
Incorporating new music presented its own challenge. Soon after announcing the tour, Karol released Mañana Será Bonito: Bichota Season, a companion set that highlighted a completely different side of her: tougher, sexier, more experimental. To explain it, she wrote a book about the two versions of herself represented in the two albums and handed it to her tour designer. “I said, ‘This is my story. This is Carolina’s book, and I want her to be a siren.’ And they found the way to put it all into the show.”
While top Latin touring acts have long played stadium dates in Latin America, the notion of a conceptual tour is still relatively rare, and in the United States, only a few Latin artists have done multicity stadium tours. Karol benefited from the expertise of her team, including Assad and Lewis, which had already put together Bad Bunny’s two stadium tours, as well as the rock-solid family foundation that’s an intrinsic part of her business structure. In addition to Acosta, who handles her day-to-day at Habibi, since at least 2019, her sister, Jessica Giraldo, has also functioned as a “360,” overseeing all aspects of Karol’s career, including the growing Bichota Records and its staff; her Medellín office, Girl Power, which runs her merchandise business, among other projects; and her philanthropic Con Cora (“With Heart”) Foundation.
“Strategically, we have a great structure, and there are many, many people focused on massifying Karol’s vision,” says Giraldo, an attorney. “The big change Noah brought when he came on was globalizing the project. He opened the door to big mainstream festivals and big deals, for example. Raymond is his right hand in this project. And I’m the connection between the artist and everything else. I know Karol perfectly well; she’s my sister. But on the professional side, I’ve learned to understand her vision and execute it.”
Balenciaga jacket, Intimissimi underwear, Replika Vintage shoes.
Vijat Mohindra
While families and musical careers don’t always mesh, Karol’s has been an organic part of her structure from the very outset of her journey. Her father, a musician, fostered Karol’s ambitions, managed her until she signed with Universal and was the only person to join her onstage when she won the Latin Grammy for best new artist in 2018. Today, he isn’t part of her actual business, but he is part of her personal support network and, along with her mother, a constant presence at her shows and milestone moments, including this year’s Latin Grammys and Billboard Latin Music Awards, where he sat by her side.
“My family is everything to me,” Karol says. “[Fame] conditions real friendships and real relationships. Having my family — the most real and pure thing — around me makes me feel I’m not living in an ephemeral world where everything is transitory. Having them around me is also my way of thanking them for everything they did for me.”
That backbone will be essential come February, when Karol kicks off her 20-date Latin American stadium tour before an expected European run — all told, a seven-month trek, her longest time on the road yet. As ever, while on tour, she’ll link up with Ovy on the Drums and other writers for sessions to maintain a constant output of singles.
But at this point in her life, she’s ready to handle it all.
“If you ask me what I’m most proud of in the past year, it’s the independence we accomplished,” Assad says. “But I’m very proud of how hard she worked during the pandemic, going from the pandemic to theaters to arenas to stadiums. That all happened from 2020 to 2023, and that’s just amazing.”
Beyond music, Karol will make her acting debut on the Netflix scripted drama series Griselda alongside Sofía Vergara in January. And her Con Cora Foundation for women, launched this year, already has ongoing projects in sports, education and rehabilitation, including a program with the Houston Space Center to send Colombian teens to visit NASA.
“I’m bummed this era will end because definitely it’s the time I reaped what I sowed,” Karol says. “All these years working for something, and finally, that something is working for me. All these things I thought could happen, I trusted they would, and they did.”
When asked what comes next, Karol hesitates for a moment, as if wanting even more would seem too greedy for someone who already has so much.
“I’d love for my music to be heard everywhere, and, truthfully, I’d like my name to be heard all over the world,” she finally says. “Last year, we went to Santorini [Greece], to Kenya, to Dubai [United Arab Emirates], on holiday. And when people asked us where we were from and I said, ‘Colombia,’ the reaction always was, “Oh, Shakira, Shakira.’ ”
And then, in typical, demonstrative Karol G fashion, she holds up her arm to me. “See? I get goose bumps just thinking about it because that must be the ultimate. To have everyone in the world know your name.”
This story will appear in the Dec. 9, 2023, issue of Billboard.
After Morgan Wallen wraps his sold-out Nov. 10 concert at Atlanta’s Truist Park with a crowd singalong to his 2019 No. 1 “Whiskey Glasses,” he enthusiastically roams the edge of the stage, crouching down, eager to get close to his ardent fans. As they thrust albums, cowboy boots and cardboard signs into his hands, the 40,000-seat stadium suddenly starts to feel more like a 200-capacity club.
Wallen has come prepared. He pulls out the appropriate black or silver Sharpie from his jeans pocket and yanks off the cap with his teeth, then autographs each item and poses for selfies. Even once the stadium lights have switched on and people have started to head toward the exits, Wallen is still hanging out. Finally, he starts to jog off, but then stops, turns around and runs back to autograph one more sign — the one that reads “You’re our entertainer of the year” — before leaving the stage for good.
The sign is a nod to Wallen’s prowess as an energetic, engaging performer — his Atlanta audience had no clue he was on antibiotics and was so concerned about a possible return of his spring vocal cord issues that he didn’t talk to anyone for hours before the 90-minute show, including postponing this interview. But it was also a reminder that, although he had lost entertainer of the year 48 hours earlier at the Country Music Association (CMA) Awards — and weathered a potentially career-ending scandal in 2021 — he remains tops with his millions of fans.
When time allows, the post-show autograph session is a nightly ritual. “I like looking them in the eyes,” a recovered Wallen says 10 days later over Zoom in his first major interview in two years. He’s dressed head to toe in gray camo, on his “lunch break” from hunting deer on the 1,700-acre farm outside Nashville he bought earlier this year with his booking agent and good friend, Austin Neal. He has scrubbed off his camo face paint: “I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of you,” he says with a good-natured grin.
“There’s usually a few people every night where I’m just like, ‘God, that is like the happiest person in the world right now,’ and I always pick those,” he says. “I’m almost tearing up thinking about it. It’s just like, man, I mean a lot to this person, I can tell. I try to tell them, ‘Hey, I saw you up there. I saw you tonight.’ ”
Those fans helped make Wallen, 30, the biggest winner at this year’s Billboard Music Awards, which are based on year-end performance metrics on the Billboard charts. The Big Loud/Republic artist won 11 trophies, including top male artist, top Hot 100 artist and top country artist, as well as top Hot 100 song for “Last Night” and top Billboard 200 album for One Thing at a Time — the first time a male artist has captured the latter two in the same year since Usher in 2004. He dominates the country year-end charts, claiming the No. 1 spot on 12 of the genre’s 28 lists, including Hot Country Songs, where “Last Night” succeeds 2022’s year-end chart-topper, Wallen’s “Wasted on You.”
Wallen’s groundbreaking accomplishments transcend country, too. When “Last Night” hit No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in March, it became the first song by a solo male country artist to top the chart since Eddie Rabbitt’s “I Love a Rainy Night” in 1981. Once it reached the summit, “Last Night” spent 16 nonconsecutive weeks there, the most ever for a noncollaboration. (Wallen nixed the idea of releasing remixes to potentially propel the song past the 19-week record held by Lil Nas X’s “Old Town Road” featuring Billy Ray Cyrus, says Big Loud partner/CEO Seth England, who heads Wallen’s label and co-manages him with K21’s Kathleen Flaherty. “Morgan loves the original version, and he had made it that far on his own music and accord,” he says.)
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When One Thing at a Time debuted at No. 1 in March, its predecessor, 2021’s Dangerous: The Double Album, logged its 110th nonconsecutive week in the Billboard 200’s top 10, second only to the Sound of Music soundtrack and the most by a solo artist since the chart began publishing weekly in 1956. One Thing at a Time has spent 16 nonconsecutive weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard 200, the most for any album since Adele’s 21 in 2011-12. And, after debuting at No. 1, the album logged the next 31 weeks in the top five.
As country music experiences its biggest surge in popularity since the Garth Brooks era three decades ago, Wallen (alongside Luke Combs) is the tip of the spear for the genre’s new generation, which includes Zach Bryan, Lainey Wilson, Jelly Roll, Bailey Zimmerman and Wallen’s frequent writing partner and close friend, HARDY. He has shifted country’s streaming calculus by releasing albums that contain more than 30 tracks and racking up tremendous consumption tallies: One Thing at a Time’s songs earned 498.3 million on-demand streams in its first week, the most ever for a country album, according to Luminate. Through the third quarter of 2023, country music’s on-demand audio and video streaming grew by 24% year over year — and Wallen accounted for 31% of that growth. Of all country music on-demand streams through the same period, 10% belonged to Wallen. For the first time since the 2013 launch of the year-end Streaming Songs Artists chart, a country act (Wallen) leads the list, and a country song (“Last Night”) is No. 1 on the year-end Streaming Songs chart.
He’s catching the eye of legendary country artists, who now study his methods. “This is a new generation that is streaming, which is something new to Dolly,” says Dolly Parton’s manager, Danny Nozell. “What Morgan is doing, I want to take and see how I can apply that to Dolly.” (To wit: Parton released the longest album of her career, the 30-track Rockstar, in November.)
Similarly, Luke Bryan, who calls his good friend Wallen a “world-class songwriter, singer and performer,” was also impressed by Wallen’s new-school methods. “His ability to relate to fans by way of introducing new songs by performing them on socials was truly a brilliant way to build his career,” he says.
“When I started doing this, I had no intentions or expectations of becoming that guy,” Wallen says of being the de facto leader of this new country movement. “But yeah, I’m definitely proud of it. Especially when people say to me that they never liked country music before and now it’s [their] favorite.”
Rye 51 shirt, PAIGE jeans, Tecovas boots.
Daniel Chaney
As massive as Wallen’s following is, in early 2021 and for quite some time afterward, it looked like he could lose it all after a neighbor gave TMZ video footage of him using a racial slur. But Wallen’s fans never abandoned him — in fact, they rallied around him.
Their fervor was, in some ways, a testament to how, in a sea of male country artists who often seem interchangeable, Wallen has always stood out — not only for his instantly recognizable raspy twang, but for the intimate tone of his songs, many of which he co-writes.
“There’s a level of conversation Morgan brings to a song that makes him such a strong writer; you immediately feel invested in the story,” says Miranda Lambert, who co-wrote One Thing at a Time’s “Thought You Should Know” with Wallen and Nicolle Galyon. In February, the song became his eighth No. 1 on the Country Airplay chart; he has already scored two more.
While he leans toward tried-and-true tropes — the cry-in-my-beer midtempo ballad, the playfully cocky you’re-going-to-wish-you-never-left-me tune — he often injects them with a vulnerability that’s the antithesis of last decade’s bro-country movement. And by infusing many of his traditional country melodies with rap cadences and beats and alt-rock guitars, Wallen has expanded his audience far beyond country’s typical listenership.
“I obviously have brought some of my own flavor into the space and everybody doesn’t necessarily like that, and I don’t care because I love it,” says Wallen, whose favorites range from indie-rockers The War on Drugs to country rebel Eric Church to rappers like Moneybagg Yo and the late Young Dolph. “I love being able to incorporate all the types of music that I like. If I had to sing one kind of song for two hours, I’d lose my mind.”
The first stadium show Wallen played was on May 31, 2018, as one of three supporting acts for Bryan at Toronto’s Rogers Centre. It was also the first stadium show he had ever attended. Bryan had heard Wallen’s 2017 hit “Up Down” and felt “it spoke to just the right audience, and I knew then I wanted Morgan on tour with me.”
“I remember going out there and it was like, ‘Gawwwwd!’ It just felt so massive,” Wallen says. Five years later, stadium stages feel like home. “We played in Austin [five days ago] in an arena. There were 12-13,000 people there, and it felt tiny,” he says. “Then we played the stadium in Houston [two days later], and it was like back to normal again.” He laughs as he catches himself, knowing there’s nothing normal about his life these days: “What? That’s not normal.”
Growing up in Sneedville in East Tennessee (2021 population: 1,315) and then outside of Knoxville, Tenn., where his family moved when he was in middle school, Wallen, the son of a public school teacher and a minister (his father is now a semitruck driver), had no money for luxuries like concerts. Any extra cash went to support his baseball career: He was a star pitcher and shortstop in high school before an arm injury his senior year took him off the diamond for good.
“When baseball ended, that was really tough because that’s all he was thinking about,” England says. “I think he probably transformed that into a new drive and [thought], ‘I’m going to have to really work hard at something else.’ ”
Now he’s filling the ballparks he dreamed of playing in as a kid. This year, the One Night at a Time tour played three nights at the Boston Red Sox’s Fenway Park and had double plays at venues including San Diego’s Petco Park and Atlanta’s Truist Park, the respective homes of baseball’s Padres and Braves. Through Nov. 18, the tour had grossed $300.4 million and sold 1.5 million tickets, making it the highest-grossing country tour ever reported to Billboard Boxscore.
“The charisma has always been there, but now [the show] is so tight,” says Neal, head of The Neal Agency and Wallen’s booking agent since 2017. (Neal launched his company in early 2022 following his departure from WME, several months after Wallen left the agency.) Wallen used to talk and fidget much more onstage. “We used to say he’d go on a soliloquy, but now he’s so dialed in. Plus, he can’t talk that much because he’s got so many songs that he’s got to play.”
LTIFONE sweater, Mister Freedom jacket, Nudie jeans.
Daniel Chaney
Still, in April, Wallen’s vocal load caught up with him. Minutes before he was to go onstage for a second sold-out night at Vaught-Hemingway Stadium in Oxford, Miss., 45,000 fans learned he had lost his voice and couldn’t perform. After powering through a few more shows several days later, a visibly upset Wallen told his more than 6 million Instagram followers that doctors had ordered him to go on vocal rest for six weeks, resulting in the postponement of multiple shows.
Though Wallen says he isn’t “the type of person that really worries a lot,” the experience scared him, especially after some doctors told him his voice might be permanently altered. He was spooked “100%” by what happened in Oxford, England says. “During that stretch, he was having real trouble with his voice. It was rough.” But unlike in Oxford, when Wallen started having vocal issues the week of his Atlanta shows, he had doctors at Vanderbilt and his vocal coach — who taught him methods to make singing more sustainable and joined him in Atlanta — at his disposal.
The support system that has sprung up around him is a far cry from 2014, when Wallen was working as a landscaper in Knoxville and competed on The Voice. Back then, he could certainly move more freely, without the bodyguards he requires now.
“Everything has gotten so, so huge,” he says. “I don’t really go to the grocery store. I have to go through back doors to go to the doctor and all that kind of stuff. I still try to hold on to as much [normalcy] as possible. I like driving, so I try to drive as much as I can by myself.” Adjusting to fame has been tough at times for Wallen, and he’s not sure that he has. When old friends don’t invite him to events, it sometimes bothers him, even though he knows the disturbance his presence can cause. And he has found a second use for the camo gear. After hunting, he sometimes leaves on his cap, camo top and a little face paint, just enough so that he can “sneak around, just wherever I can go, maybe a Mexican restaurant.” Otherwise, he says, “I play my shows, I hang out with my son, [Indie, 3], and I hide pretty much. And I’m OK with that. I’m happy as hell with that.”
HARDY, who has toured with Wallen off and on since 2018, speaks more bluntly about the limitations fame has placed on his friend. “In the last couple of years, he handles himself so much differently out on the road. He protects himself from situations that might get him in hot water,” he says. “He doesn’t go out to bars. If there’s a good time to be had, we have it backstage where we’re safe and where f–king people aren’t videoing and trying to get a rise out of somebody. We will still have the same amount of fun, but we do it in an environment [without] the public eye on us anymore. It sucks that you can’t really do it that other way, but you just can’t when you get Morgan Wallen famous.”
If Morgan Wallen wasn’t already aware of how famous he was, he found out Feb. 2, 2021, when TMZ published that video of a drunk Wallen (on “hour 72 of a 72-hour bender,” he later said) casually using a racial slur as he told a friend to get another friend home safely. TMZ’s post included an apology from Wallen, but the reaction was swift and severe. Radio playlists pulled his music, his booking agency dropped him, awards shows deemed him ineligible, and his own label suspended him.
It wasn’t the first time Wallen’s behavior had raised flags. He was arrested for public intoxication and disorderly conduct in May 2020 after a disruption at Kid Rock’s Nashville bar, and five months later, Saturday Night Live revoked its invitation to perform after he violated the show’s COVID-19 safety protocols. (The show had him on two months later.) But Wallen says that the experience in 2021 truly showed him “just how much that people listen to me. I don’t think I realized that, at least not at that grand of a scale at the time,” he says, carefully weighing his words. “I [learned] how much my words matter.”
Now, nearly three years later, Wallen says, “That person is definitely not the same person I am now.” He doesn’t diminish the hurt his words caused or question the actions the industry took, but he admits to feeling anger that so few gave him the benefit of the doubt and rushed to brand him a full-blown racist.
“There’s no excuse. I’ve never made an excuse. I never will make an excuse,” Wallen says of using the slur. “I’ve talked to a lot of people, heard stories [about] things that I would have never thought about because I wasn’t the one going through it. And I think, for me, in my heart I was never that guy that people were portraying me to be, so there was a little bit of like, ‘Damn, I’m kind of actually mad about this a little bit because I know I shouldn’t have said this, but I’m really not that guy.’ I put myself in just such a sh-t spot, you know? Like, ‘You really messed up here, guy.’ If I was that guy, then I wouldn’t have cared. I wouldn’t have apologized. I wouldn’t have done any of that if I really was that guy that people were saying about me.”
“Any of that” included meeting with several Black leaders, including 300 Elektra Entertainment chairman/CEO Kevin Liles, Universal Music Group executive vp/chief people and inclusion officer Eric Hutcherson and Grammy-winning gospel artist Bebe Winans, as well as with the Black Music Action Coalition (BMAC) and other groups in an effort to educate himself; his process “to learn and try to be better” continues, he says.
“I think that moment was a cloud with a silver lining because I think it showed him he has a platform that can do good,” HARDY says. “He realized, ‘I’ve got to get my sh-t together.’ ”
One such platform is the Morgan Wallen Foundation (formerly the More Than My Hometown Foundation). By February 2022, Wallen and Big Loud (on behalf of Wallen from his royalties) had donated $500,000 to organizations including The National Museum of African American Music, Rock Against Racism and the BMAC. Three dollars from every concert ticket Wallen sells goes to the foundation, which primarily helps underserved communities through supporting music and sports youth programs, and has donated over $1 million in 2023, including $100,000 to the Atlanta Braves Foundation and $500,000 to Habitat for Humanity of Greater Nashville to help revitalize a baseball and softball complex.
Despite this philanthropic push, don’t expect Wallen to use his sizable platform to speak out on social or political issues. When asked if he plans to endorse a presidential candidate in 2024, he swiftly answers, “No,” before continuing: “That’s not where my head’s at. I’m not an expert. I just don’t know enough to try to guide people. I know what I know, and that’s music.”
Stitched custom shirt, jacket and pants; Tecovas boots.
Daniel Chaney
Following the incident, Wallen says he did a 30-day stint in rehab in San Diego, and he has since drastically changed his drinking habits on the road. “That used to be my warmup — to get half lit: ‘I’m going out there, and we’re going to go have fun.’ Now, that is not the way I approach it,” he says.
Part of the change is just plain logical: playing massive stadium stages, “there’s a lot more ways you can fall than there is on a little one,” he says with a laugh. But his lifestyle changes (and the boost in his confidence level that has resulted) have also completely altered how he approaches performing. “I used to be scared to even think about what it would be like to play a show without drinking: ‘That sounds terrible. Why would I ever do that?’ And now I’m almost scared to wonder what it’d be like if I was drunk.” As far as drinking off tour, “I’m still figuring out my personal life,” he says. “I probably always will be.”
Despite the work he has done to make amends, there are still inroads to be made. While his fans fervently stood by him — sales of Dangerous soared 102% the week after the incident, and he headlined a 55-date arena and amphitheater tour in 2022 — not everyone was ready to move on.
Since the scandal, Wallen’s name is seldom heard when nominations or winners are announced at peer-voted awards shows. In November, he didn’t receive any Grammy nominations (though “Last Night,” which he didn’t write, is up for best country song), and Wallen, who won best new artist at the 2020 CMA Awards, went 0-3 at the CMAs this year. (Dangerous did win album of the year at the 2022 Academy of Country Music Awards.)
England acknowledges that “some people have no intention of forgiveness, but that’s also OK. Morgan realized that he has just got to control what he can control. He’s certainly not getting shut out in these awards because he’s a bad musician.”
Wallen shrugs off the snubs. The CMA losses “bothered me for like five minutes,” he admits. “And then I’m like, ‘Why am I mad? I’m about to go play for 80,000 people in Atlanta.’ ”
Daniel Chaney
And there are other recent victories to celebrate, like sharing the BMI Country Awards’ songwriter of the year honors with Combs on Nov. 7 — meaningful recognition for Wallen, who says he has heard criticism that he doesn’t write enough songs on his albums or relies too much on his co-writers. He has nothing but praise for the writers who contribute to his records but admits with a wry chuckle that the BMI Award was “validating … It’s kind of like maybe I do know a little bit about what I’m doing.”
Wallen has released collaborations with top country names including Eric Church, Chris Stapleton and Florida Georgia Line, as well as with Diplo and rapper Lil Durk. (Their “Broadway Girls” reached No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart in 2022.) But he’s well aware that he hasn’t yet released a game-changing co-ed duet like Jason Aldean and Carrie Underwood’s “If I Didn’t Love You” or HARDY’s murder ballad “wait in the truck” with Lainey Wilson. However, he quickly adds, it’s not for lack of trying.
“I’ve reached out to a couple of people, and they’ve turned me down,” he says, declining to name names. “I just really want certain people, and I haven’t gotten the chance to do it yet. I’m going to keep trying to write songs for it or write with them.”
England says the timing hasn’t worked out, adding that Wallen sent a song for his next album to a noncountry artist as a possibility. “The answer was bittersweet,” he says. “It was, ‘Holy sh-t, this sounds like a global No. 1 record, but I just can’t do it right now.’ ”
Wallen says he “would love” to write with more women, but admits he frequently returns to his very successful “little squad” of collaborators “because I’ve just been slammed, and when I’m not on the road, I’m spending time with my son or hunting. I haven’t really wanted to branch out much just because I needed to keep myself sane.”
One new collaborator eager to work with Wallen: Post Malone. The artist, who is recording a country album, wrote with Wallen, ERNEST and Charlie Handsome, among others, when he was in town to perform with Wallen and HARDY at the CMA Awards. But Wallen confesses that Post Malone’s studio hours were hard for him. “[He] likes to write really, really late at night — and I can’t do that three nights in a row. I can do that one night,” he says with a laugh. “I can start about 5 p.m., but starting at 10 p.m. — that’s rough.”
A little while ago, when HARDY was at Wallen’s house, they headed out to his workshop. “Indie was in the bed. Morgan’s out here looking for an outlet to plug in a baby monitor. I was just like, ‘Man, that’s something I didn’t think I would see five years ago,’ ” HARDY says.
In Atlanta, the tow-headed Indie giggled in delight as he ran through the empty stadium concourse before showtime, pushing a toy dump truck and exuberantly honking the horn on a full-size forklift. “Anything about a vehicle or any part of it, that’s all he cares about,” Wallen later says, grinning broadly.
Wallen and Indie’s mother split before he was born and share joint custody. But Wallen says fatherhood happened for him at the right time. “It gives me something to focus on that’s not just all about myself because for a while, I had to be super selfish. I had to mostly focus on myself or [my career] wouldn’t work,” he says. But now, “it’s nice to really think about someone other than yourself and about what you’re passing down. He’s my favorite thing about life.”
And Wallen’s friends say fatherhood changed him. “Having a son really grew him up fast,” Neal says.
Becoming a dad made him look at life differently, Wallen says, including sparking an interest in expanding into businesses outside of music. In addition to buying real estate, he’s working with Plus Capital to find the right investments, including his recent affiliation as investor and brand ambassador with upstart Ryl Tea, which aligned with his desire to partner with health and wellness brands. “I like having a bunch of different things for me to focus on. [Otherwise], I’ll get bored,” he says. “I have a lot of opportunities, so I’ve been trying to take them.” Will one of those opportunities be, as is a rite of passage of sorts for so many country stars, opening a bar in Nashville? England says only: “It has been discussed. Stay tuned.”
But first, Wallen will spend much of 2024 carrying on with the One Night at a Time tour. In addition to continuing to make up this spring’s postponed dates and a headlining show at the Stagecoach festival, Wallen has added 10 more markets, many with multiple nights at stadiums, including three at Nashville’s Nissan Stadium.
Also potentially ahead: a full-blown international tour, perhaps in 2025. After starting 2023’s tour in Australia, Wallen ended the year with a Dec. 3 show at London’s O2 Arena that sold out in one hour. It was his first time in Europe, and Neal is exploring the best way to proceed globally. Wallen is up for the challenge: “I think it would be fun to go try to win people over again,” he says.
Next year, he’ll also return to the studio. Though more singles are coming from One Thing at a Time, Wallen is already writing and reviewing outside songs for his fourth album. Handsome, who co-produces Wallen’s music with Joey Moi, predicts the next one will be his biggest yet. “I’m expecting to see more songs that can go No. 1 at pop radio because I think people have seen that a country singer with a very Southern voice by himself without a feature can still have a No. 1 Billboard hit,” Handsome says. “Morgan’s leading the way for what country music is now and what it’s becoming.”
When England compares Wallen to another artist, it’s not a fellow young country superstar or a legend of the past, but another especially prolific and versatile performer affiliated with Republic: Drake. “Drake can do a hardcore R&B song, a trap rap song or a Caribbean-tinged beat global pop song,” England says. “I think Morgan is that in our genre. His voice is always going to be country even if he’s singing pop melodies, and the verses are likely to have some country imagery. But when it’s time to sing the big runs and melodies, the guy can do it. Even though he’s got a lot of older fans, he’s certainly got the young kids just wrapped around the sound right now. I don’t think that’s just a short-term thing. I think the guy’s got the ability to do that for decades to come.”
This story will appear in the Dec. 9, 2023, issue of Billboard.
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