The Crane Wives’ Lee Emi on Solo Album DESTROY EVERYTHING and Why Streams and Followers Don’t Define an Artist

Photo credit: Lori M Gottschling

After more than a decade as a primary songwriter, co-lead singer and guitarist with The Crane Wives, Emilee Petersmark is stepping into a different kind of spotlight with her debut solo album as Lee Emi. DESTROY EVERYTHING grew from songs that had been sitting unfinished for years, before the pause of the pandemic gave her the space to return to them and begin building a project of her own.

The record is rooted in questions of identity, reinvention and belonging, shaped in part by Petersmark’s experience as a Korean adoptee raised in Michigan, her return to Korea and a period of serious illness. But making it also meant learning to trust herself in a new way: taking the lead on creative decisions after years of working within a band and separating the value of making art from the pressures of streams, followers and commercial success.

What’s the story behind DESTROY EVERYTHING, and what did making this album allow you to explore that you hadn’t been able to before?

DESTROY EVERYTHING started as a collection of songs in a Google Drive graveyard, songs that told a different story than the other material I was working on with The Crane Wives over a decade ago. They sat until 2020, when the pandemic shut-down forced me to rethink all of my plans for the future. Ben Zito, the bassist and manager of the Crane Wives, offered to record and produce my solo record at his studio while we were on a hiatus from touring, and the project just kind of took off from there. 

I drew a lot of inspiration from the work I was doing at the time to deconstruct my adoption story, revisiting Korea for the first time since I was an infant and using this solo project as an opportunity to process that experience. Making music has always been a deeply cathartic practice for me, but this was the first time I’ve had an outlet that felt wholly mine, and as a result there’s a lot about this record in particular that feels deeply personal.  

Making this album gave me my first real opportunity to sit in the driver’s seat when it came to making creative decisions. Throughout my career I’ve been surrounded by musicians with incredible talent, and it felt easy and safe to lean on their opinions when it came to building out a song in the studio. This record definitely pushed me to trust myself and my instincts, leaning into the sounds and textures that felt right to me. The end result is something that feels like an evolution from the work I’ve done with The Crane Wives, and I’m really proud of it. 

Starting something new can be intimidating even when you already have an established career. How have you dealt with the pressure of putting yourself out as a solo artist?

It’s absolutely terrifying to be alone in the spotlight after so many years of sharing it with a band. Not to mention switching things up and playing new music with a new band after sixteen years of touring with The Crane Wives. I’m doing the best I can to embrace the anxiety as part of the process. It’s a lot of change, and a lot of vulnerability, and I don’t think it’s possible to ignore the weight of that.

Thank God, I have the best team in the whole fucking world supporting me. Whenever I start to feel the self-doubt creep back in, I remember how many amazing musicians and artists have leant their time, labor, and talents to this project. I try to remind myself that a lot of people I trust believe this is going to work out.  

You’ve been making and releasing music professionally since 2010. What do you know about being an artist now that you wish you’d known when you were starting out?

Photo credit: Nick Greseth

I wish someone had told me that there is a difference between making art and selling art. It’s easy for an artist to conflate their success as a business with their value as an artist, and when business is slow it can feel like your art is worthless. I still get stressed out about streaming numbers and follower counts.

But not having high streaming numbers doesn’t make you less of an artist. Having lots of followers doesn’t make you a better songwriter. I wish I knew when we were starting out to have more confidence in the art I was making, even when a lot fewer people were listening.  

What’s your best advice for someone who is just starting to make their way in the music industry?

Don’t trust anyone who says they know the “right” way to become a successful musician. There’s so many paths to get to where you want to go, and what works for one person might not be replicable for someone else.

So do what feels best for you, even if that means taking breaks, touring less, waiting more than a year to put out a record. You could do everything on a label’s schedule and it’s possible your career still won’t take off the way you’d like. So make what you wanna make on the timeline that works best for you. 

What’s your favourite part of making music, and what’s your least favourite part?

My favorite part of making music is the songwriting process. I’ll never understand the folks who consider themselves AI musicians because the toiling process of making the song exist is the best part, and I can’t understand why anyone would want to skip it. It feels so cathartic to take a feeling and turn it into a melody. It feels like play. You get to experiment and take risks and tap into a specific part of your brain in a way that feels like meditation.

My least favorite part of making music is the mixing process, after recording everything in the studio. I feel like I get so deep in the weeds of micromanaging each second of music that the song starts to lose all meaning. It’s my perfectionism rearing its ugly head. I think we did over 10 rounds of mixes for this record, which is absolutely appalling. 

What are you listening to at the moment, and is there an artist you think more people should know about?

Lately I’ve been revisiting old playlists and listening to bands that I liked a lot circa 2015, like Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Mother Mother, and Metric. An artist that more people should know about is Angélica Garcia. Her album Cha Cha Palace was a surprising source of inspiration for Lee Emi, as she embraces a lot of different elements of her heritage in her music, leaning into her identity as a Mexican/Salvadorian American. 

Photo credit: Hwa-Jeen Na

If DESTROY EVERYTHING were part of a playlist, what other tracks would you put alongside it?

Sun Has Set - Beebadoobie

Happy Now - Michelle Branch

Oh Well - Fiona Apple

I Am King - Florence & The Machine

Heat Lightning - Mitski

Fever Pitch - Rainbow Kitten Surprise

How do you unwind and switch off when you’re not making music?

I like to draw and paint whenever I have the time. I used to do freelance work back in the day, and have illustrated children’s books, album covers, and lots of posters for other musicians. When I’m looking to switch off the creative part of my brain entirely, I like to find activities that get me outside, like hiking, kayaking, and rollerblading. 

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Masia One on Building Southeast Asia’s Reggae and Dub Communities

Singaporean rapper and artist Masia One has spent more than two decades working across hip-hop, reggae and soundsystem culture. Known as the “Far East Empress”, she has collaborated with artists including Pharrell Williams and RZA, while building connections between Southeast Asia’s independent music communities through her project Singapura Dubclub.

Her Singaporean identity runs through her music, including her verse on “Neighbourhood”, a collaboration with Emma Dilemma, Dende the Sensei and Jay Coast. Drawing on everyday language, local characters and life beyond the city’s business district, she brings the Singapore she knows into the record.

In our interview, Masia discusses what it takes to build a music community, how artists can reach international audiences while staying connected to where they come from, and the practical decisions behind a sustainable career. She also shares advice on collaboration, protecting your work and finding the confidence to make your own decisions.

You’ve spent years helping build reggae and dub culture across Southeast Asia. What have you learned about creating your community?

Community and great music cultures go hand in hand, and growing together as friends, experts and music lovers is a very fulfilling journey for any music culture. 

I learned the importance of having a great team that enjoys working together, brings to the project their own strengths and are all excited about what we are building together. 

I also realized that SE Asia is in itself a small community - if sub-cultures and music scenes in ASEAN work together what might be a small show can grow into book routes, festivals and shared knowledge.

You’ve built an international career while staying connected to your Singaporean and Southeast Asian identity. What advice would you give artists who want to reach global audiences without losing what makes them distinctive?

Sometimes you have to start building where you’re at, even if you have theories about how you’ll “blow up” elsewhere. Start small and build a tribe with your friends, your neighbours, your city, your region. As you authentically bring who you are to your artistry, the rest of the world may grow curious and pay attention so lean into what works for you, not what trends and algorithms dictate. In Canada, the cover of my first album was of the Singapore merlion re-imagined as a Louis Vuitton luxury print. Most people in Canada didn’t know about Singapore or the merlion at that time, but I knew I would be the first female Hiphop artist representing in the Canadian mainstream, so representing myself accordingly was very important for me.

I also am constantly amazed by the diversity of culture, colors and sounds that come from SE Asia and, with the rise of AI slop, I know that these nuances of humanity are the future that remind us how to stay connected and inspired by the magic of real life. 

What’s your best advice for someone just starting out in the music industry?

Take an inventory of what you’re good at, get friends & allies that will help you with what you’re not good at, record and release music to build your catalogue, the music is the magic but often it’s not the money so build into your business plan where you can diversify and never ever sign anything without a good lawyer.

I haven’t given advice about the creative side as I believe that artists already know themselves and can express creativity, but often they undervalue their works and ideas, and need to protect their financial interests so they can pursue music as a career and not as a part-time hobby.   

What’s your best tip for networking and building genuine relationships in music?

Collaborations with people you actually want to make music with is a great way because the creative connection is something that can build genuine respect and friendships.

Offering sincere support, advice and assistance when building a community and network is also valuable. Often people reach out asking what you can do for them, without sharing what they are capable and willing to do to add value to someone else’s life.

When networking, present yourself in an authentic and professional manner, for example “Hey I’m just reaching out because I follow your work and saw that you’re sharing great Hiphop content” is much better than “Yo you need to hear my new mixtape”.

After more than two decades in music, what’s one lesson about building a sustainable career that you wish you’d learned earlier?
Never make decisions from a place of fear - address the fear, make lists of the pros and cons if you need to, and don’t let fear get in the way of you expressing your most authentic self as an artist. That and, get a good lawyer lol.

What’s your favourite part of making and performing music, and what’s your least favourite?

I love connecting with the energy of the people, feeling that momentum and having that musical back and forth dialogue with the crowd. This   realization that something I wrote in isolation from a place of pain or deep reflection, can be shared through melody and sound to connect strangers reminding us all that we are not alone in the hardships that we face, or the joys we’d like to celebrate together.

Least favorite part…the music opportunity attracts a lot of opportunist and bad actors that are predatory on the hopes and dreams of creatives. As well, the current model of music business that benefits corporations over the creators, makes me very concerned as there is no viable way to have a sustainable career as an artist today. In the current model of remuneration for artists that is being sold to the masses it would not be possible to have a sustainable career - artists will need to take the business of their vision into their own hands.

What are you listening to at the moment, and who’s an artist from Southeast Asia you think more people should know about?

I’m listening to: 

Ezra Collective ft. Lila Ike: Well Organized - amazing to see great musicians from around the world come together to create at the highest levels. 

Chronixx: Survivor - I like to make music that makes people feel brave, this is a song that makes me feel brave.

Theira Whack: Wax Paper - Great emcee, amazing visuals and 100% herself. 

Jazz Cruise Series Vol. 1 is by Kelvin Momo and Stixx - relax for the mind and soul.
Jhene Aiko “Westside Whimsy” - The lyricism on this new record goes harder than most rap albums.

Southeast Asian artist:

I’m listening to Srirajah Rockers (Thailand) phenomenal band that took Dub, and made it so unquestionably and uniquely Thai. 

I also just got off playing Rototom Festival with Yella Sky Soundsystem, pioneers of soundsystem culture in Jakarta, and I was shocked to find out many of the songs I loved were original productions by them with guest artists from around the region. 

Dhira Bongs out of Indonesia is someone I’m excited to see take over - a great songwriter and an amazing voice. She has a very creative outlook in how she shares her music through content and relatable  engagements.

If you could put together your dream soundsystem night anywhere in the world, where would it be and who would be on the line-up?

I would set a sound system that tours different communities, setting up at regional Temples. I would likely build a sound that follows blueprints set by Mungo’s Hifi: Tops with clarity, Subs with ultimate bass frequency, and sharing music that crosses genres. I would invite all my favorite soundboys from across the region including:

Yella Sky Sound System (Indonesia)

Gonja Hi Fi (Thailand)

Red I Sound System (Philippines) 

Heavy Hong Kong (HK)

Formosa Sound (Taiwan)

Langkawi Dub Club (Malaysia) 

Totalize Sound (Japan)

Bahnya Sound System (Korea)
…and of course my own family Singapura Dubclub (Singapore)

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Masia One on Instagram

Belgian-Tunisian Artist Sara Dziri on New EP Sacred Disorientations, North African Trance and Launching SILT

Belgian-Tunisian DJ, composer and performer Sara Dziri has become a distinctive presence in Brussels’ electronic music scene. Her work brings together club music, composition and performance, often drawing on both the city’s underground rave culture and her North African heritage. Following her 2022 debut album, Close to Home, she premiered Black Hole at Kanal Centre Pompidou in 2024, combining sound, choreography and light.

Her new EP, Sacred Disorientations, also marks the launch of her label, SILT. The record grew partly from time spent in Tunis and Cairo, where she met practitioners connected to stambeli, isawaya and zar traditions. Instead of sampling the recordings she made there, Dziri drew on what she learned about repetition, ritual and music’s ability to change how people experience time.

Ahead of the EP’s live premiere at the Jaou Tunis Biennale on 30 October, we spoke to Dziri about the personal experiences behind the record, her research into North African trance traditions, starting SILT and what she has learned from creating her own spaces in music.

Your new EP, Sacred Disorientations, is also the first release on your new label, SILT. What’s the story behind it?

2020–24 profoundly changed me. During that time, I was caring for and eventually lost my father to Alzheimer’s, while living an extremely intense creative life. Looking back, the music I was making became a place where I could process states I couldn’t fully articulate: chaos, grief, release, hope, and the desire to dissolve into something larger than myself.

Close to Home, the album I released on Optimo in 2022, was a first expression of the depth of emotions I was experiencing then. Sacred Disorientations also grew out of that period, but through a newly developing obsession with trance, not just as a musical language, but as a way of thinking about altered states, repetition, ritual and our desire to move beyond the individual self.

The EP draws from North African trance traditions and research you carried out in Tunis and Cairo. What did that research involve, and how did what you discovered find its way into the music?

I spent time in Tunis and Cairo, where I worked on the music and met several traditional practitioners of different trance traditions, such as stambeli and isawaya in Tunis and zar in Cairo.

Our meetings were exchanges about their practice and the meaning they gave to it. Of course, they also involved musical explorations and recordings, although I decided not to use any of those recordings on the EP. I wanted to understand and translate something of their underlying logic, rather than simply sample their sounds.

What stayed with me most wasn’t necessarily a particular rhythm or sound, but the idea of music as something functional: something that can alter your state, change your perception of time and create a collective experience. That has increasingly shaped how I perform too. During my live shows, especially through singing, I try to enter that state myself rather than simply “perform” it for an audience.

I’ve started thinking about DJing in a similar way: creating a relationship between myself, the machines and the room, and allowing an intensity to build until something shifts. I’m interested in what happens when I can reach a state of ecstasy through performing and whether that feeling can become contagious in the room.

What made you want to start your own label, SILT, and what kind of space do you hope it can become for other artists?

SILT, for me, represents a platform that can bring together all the different strands of my artistic practice, with music at the heart of it. It’s a music label first and foremost, but I also want it to be a structure through which I can experiment with different experiential formats for music, such as listening sessions, installations and performative concerts.

Sound-wise, I’m drawn to music that exists in the in-between: between different musical lineages, between experimental and dancefloor music, and between stillness and intensity. I’m interested in artists who don’t fit neatly into one musical world and whose work can shift the state of the listener in some way.

You co-founded Not Your Techno in 2019 to help create a more intersectional, queer and POC-centred electronic music scene in Brussels. What did building your own platform teach you about creating community in nightlife?

It taught me how important inclusive nightlife formats can be for partygoers and how much freedom, belonging and self-expression those spaces can create. For me, it came out of a necessity to break out of the usual tropes you see in nightlife, to have fresh faces, fresh approaches and just a crazy mix of people coming together and letting go. In a lot of ways, SILT actually stems from the same values: freedom, self-expression and weirdness.

It also taught me how fragile independent community structures can be. Grassroots collectives often create enormous cultural value with very few resources, and larger institutions sometimes benefit from that knowledge, audience and credibility without returning enough resources or recognition. It made me much more conscious of how collaboration should work and what equitable partnership actually means.

What advice would you give to emerging artists who are still trying to find their own path in the industry?

Your artistic voice is often already present in the things you keep returning to before you know how to articulate it. Pay attention to your recurring obsessions. Expose the work to people whose feedback can actually make it better. Don’t isolate yourself, and enjoy the process!

Networking can feel intimidating when you’re starting out in electronic music. What has helped you build genuine relationships and community throughout your career?

Don’t think of networking as meeting important people. Build relationships around shared interests, curiosity and doing things together. My experience is that the best connections often happen very humanly and through people who champion each other.

What are you listening to at the moment?

Lately, I’ve been returning to some records I have at home: Susumu Yokota’s Acid Mt. Fuji and Muslimgauze’s work. What I love about both is the way they create a very specific sense of space and time through sound. I’ve always been drawn to music that can do that.

What are three things you can’t live without in your bag when you’re touring?

My noise-cancelling headphones because I like to be in my own bubble, my favourite comfy T-shirt to feel at home anywhere, and my Kobo reader with a huge collection of fiction and non-fiction.

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Sara Dziri ‘Sacred Dissorientations’ Out Now

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Iranian-British Duo From the Lips to the Moon on Bringing Their Live Project to Their Self-Titled Debut Album

Photo by Josh Snaps

Iranian-British artists Pouya Ehsaei and Tara Fatehi have developed From the Lips to the Moon as a live meeting point between music, spoken word, poetry, performance and visual art. The project began with a series of nights at London’s Reference Point in 2022 and has since travelled to venues including Café OTO, the Southbank Centre, the V&A, Vinyl Factory and Grand Junction, as well as cities including Berlin, Cologne, Mexico City, Tijuana and Nice.

Its self-titled debut album brings together material shaped through more than 25 live shows. Across 12 tracks, Ehsaei and Fatehi are joined by musicians and spoken-word artists including Tamar Osborn, Kareem Dayes, Yelfris Valdes, Koroleko Moussa, Hammadi Valdes, Tim Etchells, Nisha Ramayya, MA.MOYO, Maureen Onwunali and Oluwaseun Olayiwola. Each track captures a different combination of voices and instruments, moving between electronics, poetry, raw vocal performances and acoustic textures.

Recorded live aboard Lightship 95, a studio on the Thames, the album retains the working method at the centre of the project. Musicians and poets responded to one another in real time, allowing improvisation and unexpected exchanges to shape the recordings. Ehsaei then rearranged, produced and mixed the material, condensing these performances into shorter pieces without removing the immediacy of the original encounters.

The album also draws inspiration from the long relationship between poetry and music across the Iranian Plateau, including the traditions of travelling storytellers and musicians. Rather than recreating a single live show, it documents how From the Lips to the Moon has changed across four years of performances, collaborations and conversations.

After several years of evolving as a live project, From the Lips to the Moon has finally taken the form of a debut album. What did the album allow you to express that couldn’t exist within the live performances?

The album allowed us to gather snapshots of some of the ephemeral moments of our live shows. We’ve had many voices and instruments in our live shows, and the album is an attempt to document at least some of them. Of course, we also wanted those further afield to experience From the Lips to the Moon.

During the production process, we tried to preserve the spontaneous connection between the artists alongside precision in the recording, editing and mixing.

The album brings together a remarkable range of musicians, poets and performers, yet it never feels fragmented. How did you approach weaving so many different voices into something that still feels like a singular artistic statement?

We led the album with the energy, atmosphere and tingling vibrations of our live shows—from the curation of the artists to the months-long mixing process. The flow of the album was really important to us. Each track has its own voice while also contributing to a larger whole. The album is a stream of sounds and half-stories that takes the listener to different places, highlighting the significance of all the little moments and details.

You chose to record at Lightship 95, preserving the spontaneity of musicians and spoken-word artists responding to one another in real time. Why was it important for the album to retain that sense of risk and immediacy?

This is how we make art: risky and immediate. It gives us the freedom to be current, urgent and responsive to what is happening inside us, around us and in the world.

Photo by Josh Snaps

If there’s one idea or feeling you hope stays with listeners after the album ends, what would you like it to be?

That many voices from different backgrounds can come together and create something unique when they are given the freedom to express themselves in a responsive environment. We’d like listeners to feel the rage, sadness, excitement, tenderness, confusion and brutality of our lived experiences—with a smile.

The result is exciting, even though you can’t quite pin it down. You’ve built From the Lips to the Moon into a community as much as a performance project. What has been the most valuable lesson you’ve learned about finding the right creative collaborators?

We’ve spent years working across music, performance and writing, and have built our community year by year. It takes time. The right collaborators are those who are excited about the work, contribute generously, tell us afterwards what they discovered through the show, and elevate our work while being elevated by it.

For artists starting out, there’s often pressure to network constantly. In your experience, what’s a more meaningful way of building lasting creative relationships?

For us, networking can never be forced. We look for genuine connections with our peers. Our emotional bond with another person matters more than what they can do for us. This creates long-lasting relationships that won’t feel hollow when we don’t “need” each other.

Photo by Jemima Yong

What advice would you give to emerging artists who feel their work doesn’t fit neatly into one scene or genre?

Things that fit in are often boring. Don’t compare yourself to others. Free yourself from conventional ideas of what a successful career looks like, let your intuition take over and trust that your authenticity will be appreciated by those who matter. The only way to establish a new genre is to keep doing it—and doing it well.

Beyond music, what’s been inspiring you lately?

It could be a book, film, exhibition, place or even a conversation that has stayed with you.

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From The Lips To the Moon

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ZAINAB on Canal View, Her Debut EP for Ninja Tune’s Technicolour, and Bringing Lahore and New York Together

ZAINAB photo by Enmi Yang

ZAINAB is a Brooklyn-based DJ, producer, curator and event producer whose work brings together club music with sounds rooted in South Asia and the wider Global South. Previously known as ZEEMUFFIN, she built her reputation in New York’s club scene before turning towards original production, with sets and performances spanning Coachella, Glastonbury, Boiler Room and Dialled In.

Her debut EP, Canal View, released on 14 August via Ninja Tune’s Technicolour imprint, takes its name from the Lahore neighbourhood where she was born and raised. Across six tracks, ZAINAB connects the musical worlds of Lahore and New York, drawing on South Asian and Arab sounds alongside house and dance music. The record includes the Urdu-language “Jadoo”, “Her Eyes”, built around a sample of Libyan-Egyptian artist Hamid Al Shaeri, and “Banglahore”, her collaboration with British-Bengali producer and rapper Surya Sen.

That exchange between place, culture and music also informs Azadi, ZAINAB’s party series and future label — its name meaning “freedom” in Urdu — through which she creates spaces centred on community and cultural exchange.

Your debut EP Canal View brings together Lahore and New York, two places that have shaped you in very different ways. What’s the story behind the EP, and what did you want it to say about who you are as an artist right now?

Canal View EP artwork

The EP is named after the neighborhood I grew up in, Lahore, before immigrating to New York.  In many ways, it’s an homage to the two cities that shaped me as an artist. Both cities are beautifully chaotic, messy, and multi-layered in their energy, much like the music on this project. Being exposed to the music of both cities was such a privilege because I learned about cultures from around the world while also staying connected to my roots. 

When I started to work on the EP, it was not necessarily an intentional choice to bring in rhythmic or percussive elements from my Pakistani heritage; it just came out of me during the process. The result, I think, is very reflective of music that has influenced me both from the South Asian and Arab world, which were the sounds of my youth- to my early days as a DJ here in New York City that evolved out of being a kid who grew up in the punk, indie hip hop scene, eventually finding my way into dance music. 

“Banglahore” brings together your Pakistani heritage with Surya Sen’s Bangladeshi heritage, while also acknowledging the difficult history between the two countries. What did making that track together mean to you personally?

I've been a fan of Surya Sen for so long and knew I wanted to work with him on a track. I was lucky that it ended up being on my debut project. We both performed at the Arrivals stage at Glastonbury in 2024 and stayed in touch after that.  The original beat for the song was just an instrumental, and I sent it to him over a DM, and he went absolutely mad over it.  I don't think it took him more than a week to send me back one of the best verses ever. I was literally jumping up and down in my studio chair when I heard it.

He actually made up the word “Banglahore”  in the middle of his verse. I thought that it was brilliant and really represented the coming together of both of our countries, which have a very contentious history due to the Pakistani genocide against Bangladeshis in the 70s. I knew in that moment that the song meant more than just a collaboration between two artists. By no means did we bury the entire history of our two nations with a song, but I think our collaboration shows that while our governments may separate and divide us, we are all from the same land and can create magic, as well as heal old wounds, when we work together. 

For emerging artists who are still figuring out what they want to sound like, what helped you develop confidence in your own musical identity? What advice would you give to someone still trying to find their sound?

ZAINAB photo by Enmi Yang

I think my musical identity is not fixed and is still evolving - to me, that's the best part of making music and being an artist: you can evolve as you grow and collect life experiences. Some of the best artists that I look up to have all had eras and evolved their sound as they grew.

My next project will probably sound nothing like this one, and that is the exciting part of building your musical identity. As someone who comes to production from a DJing background where I have never stuck to one specific sound, I think that is my unique superpower: I am not bound by genres or labels, and therefore I don’t get into the studio telling myself “I’m going to make x genre”.

My advice to someone trying to find their sound is simply to live your life. There's a lot of conversations online these days about “ finding your personal style”  and I think that conversation is reflective of finding your sound in music as well -  it's not something you consciously do; it's something you develop from living life and then processing those experiences into a work of art: whatever your medium might be.

Get clear on who your Inspirations are, go see artists you've never heard of perform live, and most importantly, put in the reps in the studio. You can only know what your musical style is by throwing darts at the board and seeing what you like and don't like. That’s the unsexy part, but it’s the most important.

You’ve gone from building your community in New York to playing Coachella and now supporting Channel Tres across North America. What have you learned about creating opportunities for yourself rather than waiting for them to come to you?

The fact is, if you don't advocate for yourself and continuously put yourself out there, nobody is going to hand you opportunities.  I think one of my strongest qualities is that I'm incredibly persistent and know how to pick myself up after failing over and over again.

It's really easy to blame the industry for things that go wrong, and there's definitely some validity in that, but I realized a while ago if you continue to hold a victim mindset, you're only shooting yourself in the foot and preventing opportunities from coming your way. You constantly have to jump out of your comfort zone and adapt to your environment, especially as a woman of color and a minority in this space; you have to work 10 times as hard to get half the recognition.

What’s your favourite part of making music, and what’s the one part of the process you could happily do without?

My favorite part of making music is collaborating with other artists -  I love the process of bouncing ideas off of another person and seeing where that takes us.  Much like a jam session, I think that's the best way to make music. I especially love sessions where we talk about inspirations and share music that we love for hours before we even get to making music.

I always find the best music that way and learn about things I never knew about. I could happily do without mixing and mastering my own music. That's a skill that I feel like there are a million people who are better at than me, and I'd rather leave it to the experts and focus on the things that I'm better at.

What are you listening to at the moment? Is there an artist or track you’ve had on repeat recently?

Currently, I have the new Strokes album Reality Awaits on repeat. I'm a lifelong Strokes fan and really love how they pushed the boundaries on this album, especially the way Julian Casablancas manipulated his vocals and the lyrical content.

I've also really been loving the new Ecca Vandal album - Looking for people to unfollow. I went to her first-ever show in New York City and saw her perform Ghosts before it came out. I was specifically waiting to hear that song on the album, and it completely lived up to the performance. She's an absolute superstar, and I can't wait to see what she does next, but for now I'm really enjoying immersing myself in this project. 

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Zainab on Instagram | TikTok | Canal View Out Now

Tour Dates: 
Tuesday, September 1  – Dallas, TX – Echo Lounge & Music Hall*
Wednesday, September 2 – Austin, TX – Emo's*
Friday, September 4  – Atlanta, GA – Buckhead Theatre*
Saturday, September 5 – Charlotte, NC – The Underground*
Monday, September 7 – Washington, DC – 9:30 Club*
Monday, September 14 – Toronto, ON – Danforth Music Hall*
Tuesday, September 15 – Montreal, QC – Beanfield Theatre*
Friday, September 18 – Detroit, MI – The Majestic*

* Supporting Channel Tres

Namibian Producer, DJ and Songwriter Gina Jeanz on Playing Music in the Sky, Life as an International Artist and New Motherhood

Namibian producer, DJ and songwriter Gina Jeanz has spent the past few years carving out a distinctive place within electronic music, blending Afro House, Afro Tech and organic electronica into a sound rooted in rhythm, movement and storytelling. Originally trained in classical music before immersing herself in Cape Town's electronic scene, she has since taken her music to festivals and venues including Montreux Jazz Festival, Amnesia Ibiza, Caprices Festival and KOKO Electronic, while earning support from Billboard, Beatport, Resident Advisor, DJ Mag and BBC Radio 1Xtra.

Her latest single, Ride, arrives as both a personal and creative milestone. Written in the lead-up to becoming a mother, the track embraces uncertainty, trust and transformation through warm percussion and hypnotic Afro House grooves. It also sits alongside one of Gina's most ambitious projects to date: a DJ set performed from a hot air balloon above the Swiss Alps, bringing to life a dream she'd been working towards for years.

Your DJ set filmed from a hot air balloon over the Swiss landscape is unlike anything we've seen before. What's the story behind the project, and how was playing music in the sky?

This Hot Air Balloon DJ set has been on my bucket list for the longest time. The idea first came to me after seeing a Cercle DJ set years ago. I booked a hot air balloon ride in Namibia to experience it for myself and stayed in touch with the pilot to see if we could make it happen one day.

A few years later, I reached out to him again and found out he'd moved to Europe to fly during the summer season. We didn't end up working together, but he connected me with a friend of his based in Zug. So what started as a dream in Namibia ended up happening in Switzerland, where I live now.

I couldn't have asked for a better outcome because the Swiss landscape is just as breathtaking. With a baby now, doing it here also made much more sense logistically.

I think when you have a dream and actually make it happen, it strengthens your self-belief and builds trust in your own ability to make things happen. This project was proof of that for me.

You've also just released a new single, Ride. Can you tell us a bit about the track?

I started producing Ride a few months before I gave birth. My creative process has shifted a lot since then. I no longer worry about the outcome of a song while I'm making it — I just let the ideas flow.

I've also been trusting myself to sing on my own tracks more, not as a "vocalist" exactly, but leaning into my voice as another instrument in the performance.

At the time, I was feeling a bit anxious about what life would look like with a child, and I didn't want to overwhelm myself with questions I couldn't answer yet. That's really what the lyrics are about.

I had to lean into trusting the journey and letting myself be excited for what's coming instead of fighting the uncertainty of becoming a mum while continuing to be a musician. This song carried me right up until birth, and it feels like the start of a new chapter for me.

You've built an international career while staying connected to your Namibian roots. How has your upbringing influenced the music you make today?

Being a Namibian creative is, in many ways, a radical act. I recently heard this expressed by two Namibian creatives, Betty and Pewa, who collaborated on a recent fashion project together. That really resonated with me because the creative industry back home isn't always built to support artists in the ways it should.

Being able to live from your art is still difficult, particularly for creatives coming from places that are often overlooked, underestimated and lacking in funding and resources.

For me, building an international career is about challenging what people believe is possible and showing others what can be done. I've spent years finding my footing, breaking barriers and learning how to make the most of the resources available to me, so there were a lot of firsts along the way.

There was often a sense that there was a ceiling to what a Namibian artist could achieve internationally. I wanted to push beyond that, not only for myself, but also to challenge those limitations.

My upbringing taught me resilience, adaptability and how to navigate different environments while remaining grounded in who I am. Those qualities have carried me through the many challenges and uncertainties of this industry.

Every step in my journey is connected to where I come from, and I hope that by continuing to build internationally, I can help create more space for the next generation of Namibian creatives to believe there is no limit to what they can achieve.

You've recently become a mum while continuing to tour and perform internationally. What have you learned about balancing motherhood with life on the road, and what advice would you give to other parents working in music who are wondering if it's possible to do both?

Motherhood has taught me to prioritise what's absolutely necessary which sometimes means I don't take every show while I'm still traveling with my little one. I've had to become a lot more mindful of the environment I'm bringing him into and that requires patience and foresight.

For me, logistics come first. I look at each show and ask whether it actually makes sense for both of us. Sometimes I’d have my husband join me and recently bringing a nanny on the road was one of the best decisions I made. I worked it into my budget because I knew I couldn't do this alone and still show up fully for my shows, so having the extra hands makes a huge difference.

Compared to traveling solo, there's just more to consider now like feeding schedules, getting ready, transitions between airports and cities. So most of the work happens before I even leave: planning ahead so that once we're moving, we can flow through it all with a bit more ease instead of scrambling.

It's absolutely possible, but the goal isn't to prove you can do everything exactly like before. It's to find your own version of balance, build in support, and give yourself grace when the old way of doing things doesn't fit anymore.

Many emerging producers struggle with confidence, especially when they're working alone. What helped you trust your instincts in the studio?

Confidence is something you can build and strengthen over time. For me, that starts with believing in myself, trusting my vision and giving my ideas the space and time to develop — the key word being time.

Working alone is often part of the creative journey, and it can teach you a lot about your own instincts. But I've also learned that you don't have to do everything alone. Knowing when to ask for help, seek feedback or collaborate with others is just as important.

Collaboration not only helps you grow creatively, but it also builds meaningful relationships, and this industry is built around working with people. Being part of a community and maintaining relationships matter, at least to me.

I've learned to continuously work on myself, both personally and creatively, so I can show up as my best self. The more I've grown to trust myself, embrace feedback without taking it personally and remain open to learning, the more confident I've become in my own creative voice.

Networking can feel intimidating, especially when you're starting out. What's the best networking advice you've ever received, or the tip that's helped you most throughout your career?

The worst thing that can happen is that someone says no — and even then, I try to see it as redirection rather than failure. A "no" doesn't necessarily mean you're not good enough. Sometimes it simply means the opportunity, timing or connection isn't right, and that there may be something better aligned with where you're going.

Networking has played a huge role in building my career, especially as an independent artist. When you're independent, you don't always have a large team opening doors or creating opportunities for you. You have to be willing to put yourself out there, as scary as it is, introduce yourself, share what you do and actively seek out spaces that can help you grow.

That's why I attend social events, workshops and industry gatherings. You never know who you might meet, what you might learn or which conversation could lead to a meaningful opportunity.

Networking isn't just about approaching people because you need something from them. It's about nurturing genuine relationships and becoming part of a community you're passionate about. The strongest connections are built through mutual support, consistency, trust and showing genuine interest in other people's work as well.

I'm fortunate to have worked with incredible people in my community who believe in what I do, support my vision and advocate for me in rooms that I may not be in. Those relationships exist because I was willing to show up and support them too.

You don't need to walk into a room knowing everyone, and you don't need to have all the answers. Start by being curious, genuine and open to conversation. Put yourself in the rooms where you want to grow, nurture the relationships you build and don't be afraid to ask. Sometimes one conversation can open a door — but you have to be willing to introduce yourself first.

For artists who want to start producing their own music but don't know where to begin, what advice would you give them?

Take the time to actively explore and discover what you genuinely love and what inspires you. The technical side is something you'll continue developing over time, and the tools are more accessible than ever today, so getting started with production is much easier than when I first began.

There are so many opportunities to learn and experiment, so take the time to develop your ear and personal taste. It's easy to get caught up in what everyone else is doing, but your uniqueness comes from knowing your own perspective, your influences and the stories you want to tell.

Create habits, routines and practices that become part of how you move through the world creatively. You'd be surprised how much discipline can reveal about yourself, not just as an artist but as a person.

The more you commit to exploring your own ideas, the more you begin to understand your own creative language.

For me, producing music is also about world-building. You're creating a space, a feeling and an experience that comes from your own imagination, and that's really something special.

When you've had a difficult or stressful day, how do you unwind and reset?

I used to unwind mostly by reading books, which is still something I enjoy, but lately I've rediscovered a love for playing chess. I used to play casually for fun when I was younger, and now, as an adult, I appreciate it on a completely different level.

It gives me a chance to disconnect from everything else while still keeping my mind engaged. It's both relaxing and challenging at the same time, which helps me shift my energy away from the stresses of the day.

I also love pampering myself now more than ever as a mum — I need that time to love on myself.

Resetting is really about finding balance: having moments that stimulate my mind, moments that bring me joy and moments where I can simply slow down and take care of myself.

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Gina Jeanz on Instagram

SOLAH on Forever: 'I Wanted to Define the Artist I Want to Be'

SOLAH is a Brighton-based singer, songwriter and vocalist whose soulful sound has made her a familiar name in the drum & bass scene.

Following her debut album King, she returns with Forever; a record that broadens her sound while staying true to the melodic, soul-infused style that has become her signature.

Forever brings together collaborators from across the UK, Europe, Japan and Brazil, reflecting the global community behind drum & bass.

Across 14 tracks, the album moves between uplifting moments of love, joy and connection before exploring darker, more reflective themes, embracing the emotional contrasts that run throughout the record.

Your new album Forever moves between uplifting, soulful moments and darker, more introspective tracks. What was the story behind it?  

My second album was much more about defining the artist I want to be through the D&B styles I connect with the most and stepping into a chapter where I can celebrate the music that got me to where I am and the people who play it and support it.

How do you balance being a private person while still sharing such personal music?

I am an open book really. The only thing that stops me sharing everything is the time I can dedicate to socials, the skill and ease of doing so and the knowledge that I can be my own worst critic. Catch me in a bar and I will tell you everything about myself, all my deepest and darkest fears and we’ll probably do a shot or two. ;)

What’s your favourite thing about making music? And what’s your least favourite part of the process?

My favourite thing is writing new tunes. There’s nothing better than receiving a piece of music you can’t wait to get your teeth stuck into, then spending a few hours with the vibes and ideas just flowing and dancing around the studio like you’ve just heard it for the first time. My least favourite thing is when the ideas do not flow, but you love the track so bad.

What’s your best networking tip for connecting with the right people in the music industry? 

Reach out to everyone and fan girl your *** off :)

What’s one thing people often misunderstand about drum & bass artists or vocalists?

Hmm, for VOCALISTS, that we don’t absolutely love the music. I understand that singers usually have their feet dipped in many genres, but I have had my feet in the D&B foot bath for a very long time for a reason, I LOVE IT!!

What are you listening to the most at the moment?

Hmmm, due to quite a bad memory, (thank you clubbing), I struggle to remember all the music I favourite and star, so I just end up listening to a handful of things over and over. These include Ezra Collective, Cleo Sol, a Zero T or a Break Mix!

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Follow SOLAH:

Instagram

YouTube

SoundCloud

Bandcamp

Lucie Antunes on New Album Silence, Collaboration and Immersive Performance

Lucie Antunes © Marco Dos Santos

Lucie Antunes is a French composer, percussionist and producer originally trained in classical and contemporary music. Her work spans concerts, performances, club contexts and interdisciplinary projects, sitting at the intersection of experimental, pop and contemporary music, and shaped by close collaborations with musicians, choreographers and visual artists. Following her acclaimed albums Sergeï (2019) and Carnaval (2023), Antunes returns with Silence, a new LP that strips away excess in search of something more instinctive and essential.

Created in collaboration with choreographer Mathilde Monnier, Silence exists as both an album and a large-scale choreographed performance. Bringing together musicians, dancers and voices, the project explores altered states of consciousness through rhythm, repetition and movement, dissolving the boundaries between audience and performers.

Silence feels less like a conventional album and more like an environment or state of mind. At what point did you realise this project needed to exist simultaneously as music, choreography and spatial experience?

When Mathilde reached out to me, I was at a professional turning point, marking both the end of one cycle and the beginning of another. There are encounters that profoundly transform you; this one felt almost salvific. It was not only the encounter itself, but also the moment at which it arrived. I deeply believe that there are no saviors, only specific moments when we find greater courage—precise points along our life path when different elements align and create an impact, whatever form that impact may take.

This particularly dizzying moment in my life, combined with the appearance of Mathilde—someone with an immensely generous soul, a reassuring force—sparked in me a desire, even an urgency, to create a cathartic work. Mathilde had already envisioned the entire project and wanted me to be on stage. I turned it into an album, while she transformed it into a choreographed concert, brought to life by human beings of a kind one rarely encounters: people with remarkable mystical strength and very little ego.

As for me, in building this album, I invited artists—some of them close friends, others people whose artistic worlds I deeply admire—and it became a highly inspiring collective creation. The spatial dimension you mention is extremely important, as the album is a vast journey that highlights our condition as transient human beings seeking to communicate with the invisible world. This is expressed through spatialized sound and the real-time vocal processing that Canblaster executed with great mastery, as though he were the pilot navigating between here and elsewhere.

Every work I create is a path of transformation. Silence took me far—toward freedom, joy, creative strength, and above all, a deeper trust in my instincts, leading me toward a more experimental body of work.

Capture d’écran

The project began from a drone recorded in the stables at CENTQUATRE in Paris. What was it about that sound that sparked the direction of the entire album?

Yes, in a way, I lost control of the console, of the machine itself, and I simply let it happen. I listened to what resonated within that extraordinary space—the stables of Le Centquatre, formerly a vast funeral center. I sat down at the piano and was carried by this D drone as I wrote the first track, Silence.

For the first time, a rather dark theme emerged for me. These are some of the most beautiful moments of my life. It has happened to me for as long as I can remember, often when sitting at a piano. It's as though the music comes to me, and it feels completely self-evident. From there, I enter a kind of vortex—quite cerebral at first—then I drift into explorations of rhythmic equivalences.

At that moment, I visualized the dancers for whom I was composing this album, and a rhythm in 5 naturally imposed itself as the skeleton of the piece.

For the rest of the album, the collaborations played a major role in shaping the music. With Halo Maud and Louisahhh, for example, I really wanted to build a shared vision while ensuring that each of our artistic identities remained clearly recognizable. It also allows me to venture beyond my comfort zone and travel toward new creative territories.

There’s a strong sense of tension between organic textures and modular electronics throughout the album. Was preserving the physicality of sound important to you during the recording process?

Real-time sound processing was at the very heart of the writing process, at the heart of this entire story. In many ways, this album was truly a four-handed creation with Canblaster, because I brought him the organic raw materials and shared my desires extensively. He knew how to listen deeply, and I think that, for everyone involved in this project, it was also an immense pleasure because there was both great freedom and a sense of urgency that often made the very first take the right one.

We ran everything through his modular systems, like a machine capable of carrying you through time. Halo Maud began singing with her extraordinary voice, and he transformed it into something like a saxophone driven by an arpeggiator. Suddenly, tears were streaming down our faces. We knew instantly—it was the take.

We processed Louisahhh’s breaths in a single take, and it pierced straight through us. The moment we heard it, we said, “We’re keeping that.” And that’s how texture became an obsession.

I had the feeling that we could expand sonic spaces and alter our sometimes linear perception of what an album can be.

How did your collaboration with Mathilde Monnier shape the project?

Here too, we wanted to break away from convention. I no longer really believe in the traditional frontal performance, where people sit down, enjoy themselves, and then leave. Perhaps it’s just a phase, and it will pass. But right now, I’m drawn to artists who are trying to invent new forms. Even when they fail, I find it compelling that they are willing to try—to engage the audience differently, to involve them in ways that go beyond passive spectatorship and simply having a pleasant experience.

Mathilde and I spent a lot of time questioning the place of music within this project. In this case, the theme was altered states of consciousness—a subject that may be fashionable today, but one that Mathilde has been exploring for a long time, as have I. She wanted music to be at the very center of the experience, and I wanted there to be no boundaries whatsoever between the dance performers and the musicians. We needed to find dancers who could also embody the music itself; in fact, I met them before I had written a single note.

As with everything we captured on this album, the idea of the collective is deeply embedded in this creation. And when I speak of new forms that have the power to move us, I mean works that resonate with the world we live in. For me, there was a profound necessity to become one with others in the face of the apocalyptic challenges we will soon be confronting.

Trance is, in many ways, a pretext. I use it as a form of healing for myself—though I make no claim to heal anyone else. What I do know is the power of sound. Intuitively, each from our own perspective, Mathilde and I brought together people of extraordinary sensitivity. And when we are all together, something happens that radiates throughout the entire space we inhabit.

It is the strength of the collective: a space where ego is set aside. No soloists. Just us, here, together, now.

You’ve worked with musicians, choreographers and visual artists from very different worlds. What usually tells you someone is the right creative fit?

I don’t really ask myself that question. Let’s just say that when I meet someone, I make it clear quite quickly that I wouldn’t be able to create something I’m not in complete agreement with. As a result, things tend to sort themselves out naturally.

More often than not, I’m a fan of the people I work with, and every collaboration becomes an intense adventure. But on this album, that feeling was stronger than ever before. And I’m not only talking about the people who contributed musically.

There was also Paulin, the graphic designer who conceived the artwork and had to immerse himself in this journey. Or Giorgio, who directed the videos and approached the project with the same intensity and passion that drove me. And Sibegg, the mixing engineer, whose involvement went far beyond simply mixing the record. We exchanged ideas constantly in order to arrive at this final result.

What I love about collaboration is when people bring something deeply personal to the process. Otherwise, I might as well work with robots.

After an intense project or performance cycle, what helps you switch off and reconnect with everyday life outside music?

My family life with my wife and our four-year-old son. My friends, my neighbors, the life of the neighborhood where I live. I really try to stay connected to the present moment, to the place I inhabit, to reality itself. Otherwise, I can go through long periods of loneliness, with the feeling that I’m always somehow on the sidelines—as if I’m never quite where I’m supposed to be.

The only place where I truly feel I am exactly where I belong is when I’m creating, when I’m writing, or when I’m performing. So outside of those creative spaces, I often repeat to myself: “I am here, now, in this moment.”

What's something that’s been inspiring you lately?

Breath. Instruments such as the organ, which depend on air to function. The voice. And my Spanish roots, which call to me with great intensity.

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Lucie Antunes on Instagram | Bandcamp | Stream Silence

11 Million Streams and Counting: VANÈS on "STARFUCK" and Why Artists Shouldn't Overthink It

With more than 11 million streams, a rapidly growing online following and a string of viral moments behind her, VANÈS is emerging as one of the most compelling new voices in queer alt-pop. Blending dark-pop, R&B and electronic influences, the singer-songwriter has built a devoted audience through candid storytelling, flirtatious lyricism and an unapologetically queer perspective that speaks directly to a generation navigating identity, desire and self-discovery.

Her latest single, "STARFUCK", arrives at a pivotal moment. Written during a period of personal upheaval while her breakout track "Kiss Me Slow" was gaining momentum online, the song explores attraction, power dynamics and emotional boundaries through a lens that is both vulnerable and self-assured. Pairing soft, intimate vocals with shadowy trap-pop production, VANÈS transforms personal reflection into a bold statement of intent, setting the tone for a new chapter in her artistic journey.

We caught up with VANÈS to talk about the lessons behind "STARFUCK", finding authenticity online, building community as an independent artist, and why sometimes the best creative decisions come from following instinct rather than overthinking.

“STARFUCK” plays with power dynamics; what did writing it teach you about your own boundaries?

Writing “STARFUCK” taught me a lot about accepting nuances in dating. There are a lot of opinions and advice from people in real life, the internet or self help books but in the end you have to ask yourself what the situation looks like to YOURSELF and allow your heart to feel the repercussions of it.

There is nothing wrong with deciding something that felt right at that time and then rolling back when you feel like it doesn’t align with your boundaries anymore. 

What’s your favourite and least favourite part of making music right now?

My favorite part of making music is when I get what I call my “slay tear” - it doesn’t happen every single time but all the songs that I put out are the ones where I get it. It usually happens in the first couple hours of making a new song when I get really excited about a sound, a lyric line or a melody where I literally get one single tear in one of my eyes and it just rolls down out of nowhere. It’s always been like that and it’s my criteria of considering a song to be public at some point and I absolutely love it when it happens.

My least favorite part about making music is when I simply don’t feel the song that I’m making and I try to force myself to keep digging for cool lyrics and melodies but nothing feels right. For me, a lot of things come and go in waves and making music is one of them - it chances its excitement triggers and I have to listen more to what I naturally want: if it’s working with other people in the studio then it may work for that moment. But next week I may just want to produce music by myself and that’s okay. I’m still learning to get rid of my expectations and pressure so I can allow myself to get more in a flowstate.

Best networking tip for artists who don’t want to feel fake or transactional?

Independently organised writing camps are a great way to meet new people and create new music. Also, there are also a lot of showcases where you can show up, listen to the artists’ music and talk to them afterwards - even if you don’t want to talk to them in person, you can also just DM them the day after and let them know that you liked their set. Commenting on artists posts that you like can also go a long way - it’s all about being genuine and giving them your support when it feels authentic and honest to you - then you will also attract the right people into your life.

You’ve built a strong online presence—what’s one thing you did early on that actually worked?

One post a day keeps the overthinker away. If you have an idea then act on it and post it asap. Later on you can analyse why something worked and why some things didn’t but if you don’t try you’ll never know. My most viral videos (like the one where I’m behind Billie Eilish without knowing or my first gay panic video to my song “Kiss Me Slow”) have been uploaded withing 24 hours after it actually happening in real life and I didn’t overthink it too much. Later on you can decide for yourself if you can re-do it in different ways that serves your artistry but it’s all about trying and finding your audience.

Visually, I reconnected with things I’ve always loved as a child and I still love to this day: Red, pink, glitter but also dark colors like grey and black. I think my visual world is a clear “aesthetic” to the outside world because it’s simply me doing and wearing things I genuinely like - and that’s why is looks so cohesive and people seem to associate me with certain colors and that’s honestly so wholesome <3

Your best tip to artists trying to find both their sound and their audience?

Ask yourself what you enjoy listening to the most, what you envision yourself singing on a stage and what your audience would look like.

Get specific, make moodboards, do your research and get as deep as possible to narrow down your ideal world. For me, it was clear that I want girls and gays in my audience, that I want them to dance, scream and feel confident.

I love Chase Atlantic, Addison Rae, Adéla, Amelia Moore,..... I know their songs, I’d be in their audience as well and I know what my favorite songs are of them - and I want to make songs that hit me same way as if they were written by them.

Once you have this base figured our and you truly align with it, everything else will fall into place and the audience will find YOU eventually.

What’s your toxic trait in the studio?

I always go “That line needs to be crazier" and I won’t stop until I’m happy. I’ll repeat this sentence a couuuuple times until we squeezed out the most of the 6 words in this one line.

In the past I hid behind metaphors, I still love them here and there but there’s something so powerful about writing hyper realistic sentences that you could speak out loud that would make you go like “What did she say?” or “Did she actually just say that?”. It’s my favorite thing in the world right now, it’s so fun!

What’s a song you wish you had written?

“Wake Up” by EDEN. I can’t listen to this song without crying. I believe it came out 2015 and I always come back to this song cause it never fails to describe how I’m feeling.

If “STARFUCK” belongs on a playlist, what else is on it—give us 3 tracks for the full mood.

“Swim” - Chase Atlantic

“Kiss Me Slow” - VANÈS 

“One Of Your Girls” - The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp, JENNIE

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VANÈS on Spotify | YouTube | Instagram

Selah Sue on Working with the Gallands on the Album Movin’ and Taking the Record on Tour

Belgian soul-pop artist Selah Sue returns with Movin’, a collaborative album created alongside drummer Stéphane Galland and producer/keyboardist Elvin Galland. Released via Because Music, the project marks a shift from solo authorship to a more instinctive, collective process — one rooted in improvisation, trust, and musical dialogue.

What began as an invitation to perform at Jazz Middelheim quickly evolved into something more expansive. Within months, the trio moved from an initial idea to a full-length record, shaped by Stéphane Galland’s polyrhythmic drumming, Elvin’s textured production, and Selah Sue’s spontaneous vocal approach. The result is a body of work that moves fluidly between free jazz and more structured songwriting, balancing looseness with precision.

At its core, Movin’ reflects a personal and creative turning point. Written across a period of emotional transition, the album traces a journey from introspection to release, grounded in the idea of movement — not as escape, but as a way of working through discomfort and change.

How did this collaboration with Stefan come about?

I got a text message from Stéphane Galland (drums, The Gallands) about a year ago, asking if we could get together and listen to some music. He and his son had been working on some songs and wanted to perform a gig at Jazz Middelheim, an annual summer jazz festival in Antwerp, Belgium.

They asked me to feature on a few tracks, and I was blown away by the musicality and the overall sound. I had never been so inspired by a drum beat. The way Stéphane plays is deeply polyrhythmic, and it really sparked something in me. Elvin produced the tracks and chords in a very tasteful way. It all happened very quickly — no overthinking, everything felt natural, just freedom.

Stéphane recorded the instrumentals first — drums and keys — and then I put on headphones and recorded whatever came spontaneously, instantly, without thinking. Sometimes it was just sounds or words that came out unconsciously.

We started with four songs, then decided to turn it into an album, and now, a year later, we’re on tour.

On stage, there’s room for improvisation, but there are also fixed sections where you can improvise for a few bars. It sits somewhere between free jazz and something more structured — closer to the discipline of pop music.

How was it working together as a group?

The music itself came together very easily — there was hardly any discussion. Everyone respected each other’s identity and space.

The mix was the most challenging part, especially since we worked with Russell Elevado, one of the best mixers in the world. That process involved a lot more back and forth, but it always led to the best possible result. It could be difficult at times, but in the end, it was always worth it.

Being part of a band makes things much lighter. You can share the pressure — it’s not all on your shoulders. It feels really good, especially when you have a strong emotional and musical connection.

What does a typical day on tour look for you?

We usually wake up and get off the tour bus — if we’re using one — and grab a coffee. I like to go for a jog or do some exercise, and sometimes we do that together.

Then it’s about looking forward to the day — lunch, dinner, and spending time together. We’ll play games like badminton or frisbee.

I also tend to create quite a lot on the road — I’ll take my computer and work on ideas, building things in my own space.

Touring can be demanding. How do you take care of your energy and mental space?

It’s important to get a good night’s sleep. I don’t drink or do drugs — I’ve been sober for the last three years. I also try to have meaningful conversations with my band members.

We’re a really close band. I always choose to work with people I genuinely like, so we can spend time together and connect — that’s really important.

If I had one tip for artists on tour, it’s this: it doesn’t have to be ‘sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll’. It’s still a job, so it’s important to stay healthy and keep your energy up. Otherwise, it becomes difficult to sustain this kind of work long term.

What’s the best piece of advice for musicians starting out?

Stay true to what you feel is right. Try to enjoy the process because that’s always the best part. The outcome is extra — that’s more about ego. If you enjoy the making of it, the art itself, then you’ve already succeeded.

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Selah Sue and The Gallands - Listen HERE

Selah Sue on Instagram

The Gallands on Instagram

EUROPEAN TOUR 2026
*Support by K.ZIA (selected dates)

May
09.05.26 – Jazz à Liège, Liège, BE
14.05.26 – Bitefartecafé, Belgrade, RS
15.05.26 – Sofia Live Club, Sofia, BG
25.05.26 – Progresja, Warsaw, PL
26.05.26 – Quantic, Bucharest, RO

June
24.06.26 – Niort Jazz Festival, Niort, FR
25.06.26 – TBA
28.06.26 – Tournai Jazz Festival, Tournai, BE

July
03.07.26 – TBA
04.07.26 – Musique Sous Les Étoiles, Bouc-Bel-Air, FR
11.07.26 – North Sea Jazz Festival, Rotterdam, NL
13.07.26 – TBA
17.07.26 – Jazz à Sète, Sète, FR
21.07.26 – TBA
22.07.26 – Les Escales du Cargo, Arles, FR
25.07.26 – TBA

August
06.08.26 – TBA

September
04.09.26 – Jazz à La Villette, Paris, FR

AZZECCA on Building COSIMEA, Playing Coachella and Finding Her Own Lane in House Music

Few DJs have managed to bridge the lineage of Chicago house with the scale of today’s global electronic circuit quite like AZZECCA. Emerging from one of dance music’s most influential cities, the producer and DJ has built a reputation for sets and productions that sit somewhere between hypnotic intensity and emotional release, pairing rolling basslines with psychedelic textures and a darker, more mischievous edge. Since her 2022 debut, AZZECCA’s ascent has felt both rapid and carefully defined, earning releases on labels including Higher Ground, REALM Records, and Factory 93, while gaining recognition from BBC Radio 1 Dance and Beatport’s 2025 Next Class.

Fresh from her recent appearance at Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival’s Yuma stage — following standout performances at Do LaB and Quasar in previous years — AZZECCA continues to step into a new chapter of her career. Her sets, whether at festivals like Lollapalooza and Movement or inside sweat-soaked club rooms from Space to Brooklyn Storehouse, are united by a refusal to settle into formula, constantly shifting between moods and genres while remaining unmistakably hers.

Alongside her artist project, AZZECCA has also been expanding COSIMEA, her party series and label dedicated to more immersive, left-of-centre club sounds. Conceived as a platform for experimentation and discovery, it reflects a wider philosophy that runs through both her music and approach to the scene: a belief that dance music should continue evolving rather than simply chasing trends.

You played Coachella again this year, how did it feel this time around? What’s it like moving between a stage like Yuma and more intimate club settings? 

Coachella this year felt wildly different to years past. Getting the Yuma booking really felt like a massive milestone and a bit of assurance that all of the hard work I’ve been putting in over the past few years is paying off.

I wanted to showcase as much of my sonic range as I could in 1hr in the Yuma, so, unlike most of my DJ sets where I emphasize sharing music from smaller artists I love, I put together an almost entirely self produced set. 

What pushed you to build COSIMEA — your party series and label — alongside your artist project? 

I created Cosimea as an outlet  to make and play music that doesn’t necessarily fit into the current commercial music landscape. I want to push boundaries in my productions and dj sets - but sometimes it feels like being different in this industry really hinders growth.

Cosimea is a space where I can create and play the sounds that you won’t hear on the top beatport charts or on every festival main stage. Cosimea is for the open minded dance enjoyers who want to discover new things.

How do you approach building up the energy in your sets, without locking yourself into a formula?

I definitely let the room guide my sets as much as possible. I approach every gig with a bit of an outline of how I hope the night will progress, with some tracks I know I really want to play, but keeping room for improvisation is really important. It’s all about finding the balance between giving crowds what they want and showing them what they didn’t know they needed.

What do you love most/struggle with most across both making music and DJing?

I think the biggest struggle for me is getting out of my own head and staying confident in my path and what I believe I should be doing. It’s really easy to compare yourself to others and to feel pressure to take the mainstream path to success once you see a bit of it. 

Touring can be intense, what do you do to reset or switch off when you're on the road?

I read a lot. My kindle is everything to me. I also like to go on long walks as often as I can when I’m touring. I find it extremely grounding to walk aimlessly around cities without headphones or anything - just taking in the sights, sounds and smells of wherever I am. 

What’s the most valuable networking advice you’ve learned from being in the scene?

I don’t know if anyone has ever given me networking advice that made me think “wow this is going to make a difference.” I find the networking aspect of this industry to be quite difficult to navigate because I struggle with disingenuous or forced interactions. My nervous system really freaks out when I have to “try” to make people like me.

I’ve learned that just being myself and setting my ego aside and really honestly telling people that I recognize and appreciate them and what they bring to the scene has helped me more than going out with the intention of networking.

I’ve made some really special friends in this industry and I think that’s because I don’t approach anything from a transactional mindset. I want to make genuine connections with people who I share passions with and I think that’s the best way for me to go about the whole ‘networking’ thing! 

For producers coming up right now; what should they really focus on early on, and what tends to be a distraction?

I feel for anyone trying to kickstart a career in dance music right now. It’s all a bit overwhelming! My biggest advice has always been to really figure out what sets you apart from and stick to that.

It might seem like there’s a pretty obvious formula to success right now, but trends end as quickly as they start and the artists who are really passionate about bringing something new and fresh to the scene are the ones who last the longest.

Slow and steady really does win the race. Having a big moment on social media doesn’t necessarily translate to ticket sales nor does it set you up for longevity when you’re constantly chasing that next big moment. You should understand and respect the history and culture of dance music and figure out what you can do to help push it forward in a positive way. 

What’s currently feeding your creativity?

I’ve been spending a lot of time gardening while listening to a wide range of music lately and it has really replenished my creative juices. Something about getting my hands dirty and creating something with nature while cycling though niche dance genres, nu wave rock and pop on my speakers at home has ignited a real excitement to make music and get back into the clubs. 

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AZZECCA on Instagram | Upcoming Shows | Make Your Move

NOTEP on “Radio,” Filming at Sea in Koh Tao, and Working with Intention

NOTEP is a Thai musician, DJ, producer, and environmentalist working across electronic music and A/V performance, where sound, environment, and process are closely tied. Blending ambient textures, traditional elements, and her voice as an instrument, she builds immersive, multi-sensory sets that move between introspection and physicality.

Her work has extended beyond the studio through collaborations with Louis Vuitton, La Mer, Prada, and Nike, alongside her sustainability initiative “High On Your Own Supply” and projects with Greenpeace Thailand and UNDP. Her debut album Metamorphogenesis (2024) marked a move from ambient, sound-led work into more rhythm-driven territory, while maintaining an experimental edge.

Released on Earth Day, “Radio” is the first track from her upcoming EP PAKARANG—named after the Thai word for coral. The project draws a direct line between the ocean and the human body, grounding its ideas in material and structure rather than metaphor.

The video, filmed on the open ocean in Koh Tao with digital artist Cyrus James Khan, reflects that same approach: self-produced, stripped back, and built from reclaimed materials sourced from the sea.

“Radio” was released on Earth Day. What was the starting point for the track?

It actually started with a conversation I had with Alex, my co-writer and producer. I told him I felt like I was going through a quiet identity shift, so before we even opened the session, I suggested we meditate and ask for guidance.

After that, we entered the studio in a very calm, grounded state. I chose four beats that were completely different from each other, but each reflected a different part of me. We wove them into one track. At its core, “Radio” is about tuning into your inner frequency and reconnecting with a higher sense of self.

The video for “Radio” was filmed on the open ocean in Koh Tao. What was that experience like, and how did it shape the video?

It was a very intimate, two-person production between digital artist Cyrus James Khan and myself. We spent about three hours on a long-tail boat at sunset in the ocean around Koh Tao Island, where he’s based. We did everything ourselves, from concept and sourcing materials to styling, filming, and editing. Working together felt very natural. We balance each other’s strengths and gaps in a way that makes the process flow.

The project was especially meaningful because of our shared connection to Koh Tao and our concern about ocean waste there. That directly shaped the visual concept. My entire outfit was made from reclaimed materials: a dress by Eric Tobua using soda can tops, and a skirt and headpiece I created from ghost nets and ocean debris. It became a physical expression of the message.

You integrate natural soundscapes with electronic production. For artists interested in working this way, where do you begin—field recording, synthesis, or concept?

Start by listening to the things closest to you. Field recording is a powerful entry point because it forces you to pay attention to your environment. Once you begin observing sound more deeply, you naturally learn more about yourself as well. From there, the concept and production choices tend to reveal themselves.

There’s increasing conversation around eco-conscious production in music. Beyond visuals and messaging, what are some tangible ways artists can rethink how they create and present their work?

It starts with awareness. Think about the footprint your work leaves, both physically and psychologically. What materials are you using? What systems are you supporting? And just as important, what kind of mindset are you encouraging in your audience? Shifting perspective can be as impactful as reducing waste.

Environmental messaging in music can sometimes feel didactic or surface-level. How do you avoid that, and instead create something that feels embodied?

I don’t approach it as messaging. It’s more about lived experience. When something is genuinely part of your life, it naturally shows up in the work without needing to be explained.

I focus on translating feeling and connection rather than trying to instruct. That’s what makes it resonate on a deeper level.

What’s one piece of advice you’d give to producers or artists who are just starting out and trying to find their sound?

Set intention before you create. Even something simple like meditating with your collaborator before starting a session can completely shift the outcome.

It aligns your energy, clarifies what you want to express, and builds a deeper connection, which you can hear in the music.

On a challenging day, how do you unwind or reset to get back into a creative headspace?

Sleep helps the most. Beyond that, walking, spending time in water, going to an onsen, or getting a massage. Anything that brings me back into my body instead of my mind.

What’s something small or unexpected that often sparks an idea for you?

Being in nature. Even a small detail, like the texture of sound or light, can open up an entirely new direction.

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Notep on Instagram

Listen to Radio

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Multidisciplinary Electronic Artist Aja Ireland on New EP Moult Mouth, the Monstrous Aesthetic and Visual Collaboration with Joey Holder

Photo Credit Hogg: IG @999999999boyscrysendpics

Aja Ireland is a multidisciplinary electronic artist working across performance, sound design, visuals, DJing and creative development. Her work spans club, gallery and digital environments, with a focus on live performance, spatial sound and collaborative visual worlds.

Her latest project, Moult Mouth, is an EP and live AV show released across February to April 2026. Blending experimental UK bass, industrial techno, baile funk percussion and detailed sound design, the record is built alongside a physical performance practice where movement plays a central role. Developed in collaboration with Joey Holder, the project extends into a multidisciplinary audiovisual work incorporating costume, choreography and digital visuals.

Across both the EP and the live show, the human form is continuously altered and reconfigured. Costumes by Studio FCLX and SKNDLSS exaggerate and distort the body, while the visual world introduces shifting, hybrid organisms and unstable physical states. Sound and image operate together to create an immersive environment that moves between club energy and performative intensity.

Movement functions as a core element within the work. Ireland approaches dance as a form of expression and construction, shaping both the performance and the way the music is realised. The result is a project that connects sound, body and image within a single framework, presented through both recorded material and live performance.

What follows is a conversation with Ireland on the development of Moult Mouth, her approach to collaboration, and the processes that inform her work across sound, movement and visual form.

Moult Mouth explores monstrous femininity, body autonomy and liberation through movement and sound. What drew you to the “monstrous” as a creative and emotional framework for this project?

Growing up as a woman in club spaces, you quickly learn that your sensuality isn't really yours. Men touching you, staring at you, your body existing to satisfy someone else's gaze. That's just a normal Tuesday night out for most women, and it makes it genuinely confusing to figure out how to have sexual and sensual energy and actually celebrate it in a healthy way. Nobody really teaches you that part.

Queer safe spaces changed that for me. Good music, a place to dress up, people who weren't watching to consume you. That's where I started to find and celebrate that side of myself.

The monstrous aesthetic is two things for me running alongside each other. The first is that I genuinely find it beautiful. Leigh Bowery, Hungry, Matières Fécales have been with me from the start, and more recently Niohuru X, who really leans into it. What people are calling post-human beauty now, distorted drag, contradictions and contrasts, that space has always felt like home.

What I love about it is that it lets the usually hidden things exist openly without needing to be fixed. Discomfort, imperfection, the parts of yourself that don't feel easy to show. It's like meeting your shadow self instead of pushing it away, recognising something in those warped, unfamiliar forms that reflects your own inner contradictions. Beauty stops being about becoming acceptable and starts being about letting everything be seen, even the parts you'd rather deny.

The second part is more personal. When I'm dressed like that, I can actually move the way I want to. The monstrous aesthetic acts as armour. Somehow it gives me permission to be sensual in a way that feels safe and entirely mine. So Moult Mouth was expressing the frustrations with the (like in the track Smile) but also celebrating moving through it (like with Mami Voguer and Grind it like).

The EP exists not only as music but as a multidisciplinary work spanning AV performance, costume and visual worlds with Joey Holder. How do you approach building a cohesive artistic universe across sound, body and image?

Joey and I have been collaborating for nearly ten years, so there's a real shorthand there. Our interests, references and instincts have a lot of crossover, and working together feels completely natural as a result.

In terms of how a project like Moult Mouth comes together, it's honestly less about planning and more about accumulation. I'm always collecting, always drip-feeding myself new inspiration. Then because of my ADHD, there'll be a burst, usually three to six months where I'm so fired up I just have to make something. With this EP, I was touring Cryptid, still producing constantly on the road, and this whole new body of work arrived.

The cohesion comes from staying true to a set of obsessions that have been with me my whole career: distorted drag, creaturely beauty, the monstrous as expression. It's never a decision, it's just where everything naturally lands.

Your live shows are intensely physical and performative. How has incorporating movement and embodiment changed the way you produce or structure your music in the studio?

Movement is an expression of the music I produce, and I always produce from a place of pure inspiration. Mami Voguer came directly from playing Dancity Festival and being so inspired by the other artists that I just had to make a song to represent what I'd just experienced.

Smile was made after playing with Slikbak at Avant Art Festival. Other artists inspire what I'm making, but the ones that affect me most are always the ones that make me move my body. It's almost like I'm detached from it, it does things I couldn't think of by myself.

Whilst making Moult Mouth, I was on my own journey of just wanting to move in a more sensual way and not feel self conscious doing it. There was a real block there, an insecurity.

So everything is created and expressed in flow state. In terms of specific production choices, I used more Brazilian percussion on the record, and structured the first few tracks in a more commercial way, with choruses and verses, which isn't something I always do but I felt they needed that structure. Then the techno tracks towards the end of the record were much more free flowing.

Photo Credit: Nanni Roberto

What is your favourite part of the music-making process, and what is the part you find most challenging or confronting?

When I'm at my most inspired I feel like a vessel and it just flows through me. I could make music for hours, days, without eating or sleeping or taking breaks.

The most challenging part is that I never feel like I reach what I actually want to sound like. And I change genre a lot, so when people connect with a particular track or sound I'll often completely change direction on the next record.

The WORM residency really reminded me why I make sound in the first place. Being fully immersed in a studio for days shifts something in how you think. Instead of chasing ideas they just start happening, textures unfolding, rhythms building, machines responding in ways you didn't expect.

Some of the best moments weren't about finding the perfect sound but letting the machines lead, responding instinctively rather than overthinking. I was drawn to the unpredictable, the way certain synths seem to breathe when pushed a certain way, how layering raw unprocessed sounds creates something deeply alien. The Synton Syrinx, only a few hundred were ever made between 1983 and 1984, the Emotional Machine by Dalin Waldo, the Blippoo Box by Rob Hordijk, the Roland D50. Every instrument had its own logic and I had to meet it on its terms.

That instinctive approach is how I work generally. I love to layer and manipulate sounds without listening back in between, just building blindly and discovering what's happened. I use Granulator a lot, autotune in places it's not supposed to be, I resample constantly. 

You’ve built a career across club culture, contemporary art, film and performance contexts. What helps you connect with the right collaborators and creative communities?

It's one thing to love someone's work, and for them to love yours, but you also have to connect on a level of energy and communication, both need the time and capacity, and there are so many things that have to align for a collaboration to actually work.

A lot of it I think is down to my higher power and who she wants me to work with. But social media is a genuinely useful tool for research and connection, and so is paying attention to what friends and peers are sharing, going to events, being on tour. I don't really go out unless I'm playing these days, but there are always so many inspiring artists to discover.

You have to listen to your gut. Just because you love someone's work doesn't mean it's going to be a good fit. I think you just know when you meet the right person. I’ve loved collaborating with Joey Holder, LULALOOP, IMPATV and BORA over the years and in the last year am so grateful for new collaboration with Nicholas Delap who created the music video for Mami Vogue and to Studio FCLX and SKNDLSS for the costumes for touring and music videos which have been an absolute dream. I love to be positive and show as much respect and gratitude as possible when working with other people and have built such beautiful relationships and long term friendships from this. 

What practical advice would you give to artists trying to develop a distinctive artistic identity and creative voice?

I've taught this to a lot of students and musicians over the years, and there's so much I could say, but I keep coming back to three things.

Be authentic. Stay true to what really moves you and what is right for the project.

Have anchor points. Key influences, people, images, anything from a record cover to a make-up artist to something like water or nature. Choose a few and keep returning to them, especially during creative blocks.

Do your research properly. Not just who and what is currently trending, but go back in time and understand who they were inspired by. Read books. Don't just build a Pinterest board, although those are genuinely useful too.

I do 1:1 sessions and workshops teaching this so make sure to follow me on IG for updates @ajaireland or drop me an email if you’d like more support with this musicwithaja@gmail.com

Mami Voguer Still

How do you stay creatively grounded or take care of yourself during intense creative periods or touring?

To be honest, the time I need to take most care of myself is actually during the booking period. There is so much rejection that comes with pitching shows, and that's what I struggle with most. The touring itself is the fun part, even if it's physically demanding.

When I'm on the road I make sure I do really thorough logistics planning so everything runs smoothly and I'm not carrying that mental load as I do all the bookings myself. Generally I have to do a lot of self care anyway in my life. I meditate, I'm sober, nearly nine years now, and I try to eat well and exercise. It all sounds very boring but the most basic things have the biggest impact. I also reach out to friends and fellow musicians for support, because doing everything yourself is a lot. And I do take proper breaks. Every few years I might take a year out, get a normal job for a while, have the same routine and feel grounded again.

What tools, techniques or approaches have been most important in shaping your sonic language?

Experimentation above everything. I use Ableton, I love Granulator, I use autotune in places it's not supposed to be used, and I resample constantly.

I love to draw my compositions out using shapes and symbols before I start, to plan the journey of the track. I also love to layer and manipulate sounds without actually listening back in between, just stacking plug ins, warping, stretching, reversing, tweaking parameters completely blind, and then discovering what's happened.

Recent plug ins I've been enjoying include Random, and I'm currently doing a course with Arca where I noticed she also loves Synplant, which I've been exploring. I had some lessons with Randomer last year too.

Generally I love polyrhythms, deconstructed club and experimental techno, and more recently I've been bringing in Brazilian percussion, which I've always loved but never really knew how to use properly until now. I pull raw samples from Splice, build in Drum Rack, and love generating random patterns as a starting point.

Live I use a Roland TR8S, an autotune pedal with distortion and delay on vocals, and I run the drums through a Metal Zone. I used to use a Korg Minilogue live but after so much international touring I had to reduce the setup, so now it's Ableton and a midi controller to trigger samples alongside the drum machine (although I hate using a computer on stage haha).

Looking back at your journey so far, what is something you wish you had known when you first started as a producer and performer?

I might have studied music if I'd known how much connections matter in this industry. Not really for the learning itself, but for the access. Getting in front of the right people is genuinely hard when you can't afford to live in London and you're not interested in the drinking and going out side of things. But really I wouldn’t have changed anything - I think everything happens for a reason, and we are exactly where we’re supposed to be. There is a lesson in all the difficulties and it builds strength and empathy.

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Aja Ireland on Instagram

‘Moult Mouth’ on Bandcamp | Website

Summer C Stepped Away From 1 Million Followers to Focus on Her Mental Health. Now She Returns With New Single “My Quiet Kind of Brave”

Photo Credit: @emilx.w

Summer C is a Hong Kong–raised, London-based pop artist and songwriter whose work is defined by emotionally direct, vocal-led songwriting and an intentional approach to storytelling.

After building a social media audience of more than one million followers, she made the rare decision to step away from public visibility to prioritise her mental health and focus on developing her craft away from the pressures of constant output. Rather than chasing viral momentum, she chose to rebuild her creative practice on her own terms—an experience that now shapes both her music and artistic direction.

Her return is marked by My Quiet Kind of Brave, her most personal and musically accomplished work to date, produced with Jamie Sellers (Elton John, Ed Sheeran, FLO) and Annie Rew Shaw. First conceived during her time studying in New York and completed in the aftermath of a mental health crisis, the track reframes bravery not as something loud or performative, but as a quiet, internal act of persistence.

Drawing from her Hong Kong upbringing alongside a deep appreciation for precise pop songwriting, Summer creates music rooted in melody, emotional honesty, and resilience. As a proud trans woman, Summer is also committed to improving access to arts education and supporting organisations that provide mental health resources and safe spaces for LGBTQIA+ young people. With My Quiet Kind of Brave, she reintroduces herself with clarity and intention, marking the beginning of a new chapter defined by artistic autonomy, balance, and renewed confidence in her voice.

Your new single “My Quiet Kind of Brave” marks an important personal and artistic return. What is the story behind the track, and what inspired you to write it?

“My Quiet Kind of Brave” represents a new chapter for me, and it was the first song I wanted my audience to hear. I actually began writing the melody over a decade ago when I was a student at New York University. And when I was writing it, the melody gave me goosebumps and I felt there was something special about it. But I never finished it because it sat right at the top of my chest voice, and I kept telling myself I’d complete it when my voice was ‘ready.’ 

Photo Credit: @emilx.w

A decade later, in the aftermath of a mental health crisis, I finally finished writing the lyrics. And recording this song helped me realise it wasn’t about being ready. It was about showing up. I recorded the lead vocals six times, and each take taught me something new about my voice and my voice was my way back into my body.

When I listen to the track now, I still hear the freedom and joy in it. And I feel a lot of pride with this song. My hope is that the audience will take away that bravery is not something loud or performative, but internal and steady. It’s really about choosing to stay.

You made the difficult decision to step away from a large online following to focus on your mental health and artistic development. Looking back, what did that period teach you?

I think after going through my mental health crisis, it really showed me how unsustainable it is to constantly produce. For the three years that I was active on social media, I was posting daily and at times posting up to five times a day because momentum is everything when you’re growing. But stepping away forced me to face the uncertainty of what would happen if I stopped feeding the algorithm.

What that time gave me was perspective. I realised that I had built my life around being creative when really I should be building creativity into my life. So there’s a lot more balance and coming back now, I feel more aligned with who I am and what I want to say. I’m quite excited and I have a lot more curiosity because I can see how I can do this more sustainably now.

The song reframes bravery as something internal and steady rather than loud or performative. How has your understanding of “bravery” evolved over the past few years?

Over the past few years, my understanding of bravery has shifted a lot. I’ve learned that some of the bravest acts are showing up for yourself, allowing yourself to feel, creating even when it’s uncertain, and choosing honesty over performance.

To help promote this song on social media, I interviewed a lot of people asking about hope, courage, and through them, I’ve learned that being brave is about staying present with your own truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. That you can trust that your voice matters simply because it exists. That has been a huge learning.

What practices or boundaries help you protect your mental health while working in the music industry?

A huge part of protecting my mental health has been about learning how to build boundaries. When you’re posting everyday and multiple times a day you eventually share things before you’re ready to or have fully processed yourself. My brain was trained to constantly look for how to turn what I was going through into an “angle” or “hook”. Unlearning that was the key and it gave me back the power to make the decision to share what it is that I wanted to. 

And practically, I prioritise rest, community, and time offline. I have designated time windows for when I post, reply to comments and analyze what went well and what didn’t. Outside of that, I don’t look at the analytics and that has given my brain time off and rest. I’ve learned to give myself permission to create in cycles rather than on constant demand.

What is your favourite part of making music, and what is the most challenging part that audiences rarely see?

I genuinely love the craft of making music. When I stripped the numbers away from the art, I rediscovered that I love the challenge of shaping a vocal, refining a lyric, and finding subtle details that make a song feel alive.

There’s something deeply satisfying about building something from nothing and watching it take form and I love working with people that challenge me or push me to go further. It’s always cool to see how ideas can change or develop depending on the chemistry of the person you’re with.

Photo Credit: @emilx.w

I think the most challenging part for most artists is the financial reality. So many of us have these grand visions but practically we all have a budget and limited resources to work with. I’ve found that these restraints force me to be more inventive but I think that’s part of the fun too.

What are you listening to at the moment, and which artists or sounds are currently inspiring your songwriting?

I’ve been reconnecting with the music I grew up with in Hong Kong, and it’s been pretty cool to revisit those songs with fresh ears. One songwriter that keeps popping up is Mark Lui. He’s written hits for all the A-list musicians in Asia and I look at him as Hong Kong’s Max Martin. But outside of that, I naturally gravitate toward Top 40 tracks as a pop girl at heart, so there’s a lot of  Olivia Dean and Bruno Mars on my playlist.

With that said I also love Sufjan Stevens. There’s a level of honesty, creativity, and vulnerability in his music that really moves me, and he’s someone I would love to collaborate with one day. 

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Listen to 'My Quiet Kind of Brave' HERE

Follow Summer C on TikTok & Instagram 

“We Must Protect These Spaces”: Sam Divine on Grassroots Clubs and the 555 Tour

At a time when UK club culture is facing one of its most fragile periods in decades, Sam Divine is returning to the small rooms that first shaped her. More than 400 nightclubs have closed across the UK in the past five years, with grassroots venues among the hardest hit, eroding the spaces where local scenes form, artists develop, and communities gather. In response, Divine launched her 555 Tour, a series of five-hour, open-to-close sets in intimate venues across Liverpool, Bristol, Brighton, Exeter and Manchester, created in partnership with Save Our Scene.

The tour arrives alongside “The Groove,” her new single and the first release on her newly launched imprint, 555. Stripped-back and built for the floor, the track reflects the instincts of a DJ shaped by decades inside dark rooms rather than festival spectacle. First introduced during her Tomorrowland main stage set in 2025, it has since become a recurring centrepiece in her performances, bridging the scale of global stages with the intimacy of grassroots dancefloors.

Framed as both a personal and political gesture, the 555 project marks a full-circle moment in Divine’s 25-year career. With £5 early-bird tickets and a strict no-phone policy, the shows prioritise immersion, accessibility, and presence—reviving the long-form DJ set as a space for storytelling and experimentation. The project also coincides with a period of personal transformation she describes as “Sam 2.0,” shaped by sobriety, wellbeing, and a renewed relationship to nightlife.

As the 555 Tour continues through March, Divine reflects on what grassroots venues made possible in her early career, what is at stake as they disappear, and how returning to these spaces has reshaped her understanding of the dancefloor today.

The 555 Tour brings you back to intimate venues for five-hour open-to-close sets. Why was it important to build the concept around duration and depth rather than scale? 

I’ve always been big on storytelling in my career, and I’ve approached my 5 hours sets in the same way. Starting off low and slow around 119 bpm and building it throughout the night peaking to around 135 bpm. That takes a lot of skill, experience, and knowledge. I wanted to challenge myself whilst giving back to grassroots venues. 

Being in the industry for 25 years I think it’s easy to forget why you fell in love with DJ’ing in the first place and I wanted to take myself back to when I was a resident warm up DJ . I was so carefree . I didn’t care too much if I made mistakes , I was really experimental.

There wasn’t as much pressure as there is now as a headline DJ and everything that comes with that. Selling out big venues is amazing and I’ve worked really hard to get here. This grassroots tour is about giving back to the very clubs that gave me a chance when I first started out . 

Looking back at the early grassroots clubs that shaped you, what did those spaces give you that bigger stages can’t?

Taking people on a journey is really important to me. Creatively there’s only so much you can do of that in a 2-hour set. A set can go in so many different directions depending on the energy of the dance floor.

This way I get to set the tone from early doors leaning into my 25 years of knowledge and experience. Revisiting tracks that I never get to play anymore that I wouldn’t necessarily play on a bigger stage. I also learnt DJ etiquette.

Really appreciating the headline DJ. I always wanted to do a ‘good job’ warming up. This is how I earned respect from my peers.   

In practical terms, what does a five-hour journey allow you to explore musically that shorter sets don’t?

Trust. My audience trusting me but also trusting my intuition. Around hour 3 I find myself reaching for records that sonically shouldn’t go together but using my skill to make them work.

Taking the dance floor in different directions seamlessly because I already know where I want or need to get to . Bringing the vibe down for a couple of records so you can take the energy back up again . Longer sets should feel like a full body workout.

Leaving people guessing where you are going to go next, so they don’t want to leave the dance floor. Longer sets are such a joy. 

Touring at your level can be relentless. What does a typical day on the road look like for you now and how do you consciously unwind after a show?

I’m still to nail the winding bit down. It typically takes me 2 hours to fall asleep from the moment I plug out to the minute my eyes shut. I do have rituals before I play though. I like to sage and clean the energy of my space and say a prayer. Whether that’s a green room or lately the whole club before a 5-hour set. Touring abroad consistently is just in my blood now.

Sam Divine sets the pace for 555 with new single ‘The Groove’
The first release on her new 555 imprint lands as the UK tour kicks off with a call to protect independent venues.

The days leading up to the weekend are more important than on the actual day. Making sure I am going to bed early, self-care, packing, checking in for flights, social media for the show and prepping music is all done in the days leading up to the show now. Sobriety has unlocked a new superpower of being organised so on the day of the shows all I have to do is catch a plane and play music.

That can be disrupted sometimes with delays etc but keeping myself calm and not stressed in those situations is paramount so I don’t bring that energy to the decks. 

You’ve been open about your sobriety and recovery. How has that shifted your relationship with club culture and the dancefloor?

Sobriety has been such a huge blessing in my life. I feel hyper focused and really In-tune with the dance floor. Things you might miss when you are under the influence of alcohol.

In addiction you feel numb a lot of the time. You remember places and experiences and how you felt but you are never truly present and now I feel more present than ever. The club is my church, and the dance floor is my saviour.

With more than 400 UK nightclubs closing in the last five years, what do you think is misunderstood about what we lose when a grassroots venue disappears?

The statistics are shocking and I’m saddened by this as I had no clue how bad it was and is the whole reason for doing this 555 tour.  Some of my favourite clubs have shut down. I met some of my best friends in those clubs. They hold so many memories.

When these grassroots venues disappear, we’re losing the very foundations of what our culture is built from.

Scenes are born in these spaces; headline DJs are born from these spaces. When they close, the loss ripples outward. Fewer entry points for emerging artists. Communities are shattered . These smaller spaces are the very heartbeat of our cities.

If we opened your record bag right now for a 555 set, what are three records/tracks that would almost definitely be in there?

Frankie Knuckles - Tears 

Sam Divine - The Groove 

Sade - Smooth Operator 

Name three women in music who have inspired or influenced you?

My mum. I lost her 2 years ago and she’s still inspiring me with music. I just collaborated on a record with Capri using the sample of Billy Ocean - Caribbean Queen. It was one of her favourite songs. From an early age my mum always had music playing and it’s inspired me a lot in my sets over the years. 

Lisa Lashes. Lisa was a huge influence on me in my early days. I loved that she had her own record label as well as being a badass DJ. She was breaking the norm and flying the flag for female DJs over 2 decades ago and she’s still crushing it today. This game is all about longevity. 

Annie Mac. I was listening to her radio shows for as long as I can remember, I found so much new music and new artists from her BBCR1 show . I love her before midnight concepts. Bringing wellness into the music space. Annie has inspired me that there’s no limits you can do as a mom in the music industry.

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SAM DIVINE’S 555 TOUR: Tickets

TOUR DATES

6th Mar – Move, Exeter

14th Mar – Joshua Brooks, Manchester

30th - Ministry Of Sound , London (new)

Follow Sam Divine 

Instagram | TikTok | Facebook | Spotify | Soundcloud

Producer, Composer and Sampha Collaborator elsas on Her Creative Process and the Making of Her EP APORIAMOR

Barcelona-born and now based in London, producer, composer and vocalist elsas has quietly become one of the most distinctive voices operating between the UK’s alternative music landscape and a wider experimental pop continuum. Her work moves fluidly across disciplines and scenes, shaped as much by her classical foundations as by years spent collaborating with artists including Sampha, Florence + the Machine, Little Simz, Jockstrap and Duval Timothy. Those exchanges, particularly her ongoing creative relationship with Sampha over the past three years, have played a formative role in refining her approach to songwriting, production and sonic storytelling.

Her new EP, APORIAMOR (out now) released via Barcelona’s Lapsus Records, marks a decisive moment of artistic consolidation. Largely self-produced over four years and developed across multiple geographies—from her childhood home in the Spanish countryside to stages across the United States while touring—APORIAMOR reflects a more distilled and intentional evolution of her sound. Drawing on both her Mediterranean heritage and the textures of UK alternative music, the record explores love, heartbreak and emotional transformation through a deeply personal lens, building a language that embraces vulnerability rather than closure.

If her debut EP The Art of the Concrete introduced an expansive and exploratory artistic identity, APORIAMOR signals a clearer articulation of that vision. Conceived as both archive and release, the project captures a period of personal and creative becoming, positioning elsas as an artist concerned not only with experimentation, but with legacy, memory and emotional authorship.

APORIAMOR is framed as “the death of love’s contradiction.” At what point did you realise this record needed to exist, and what emotional or conceptual shift set it in motion?

I must’ve come up with this word during a very inventive late night etymological rabbit-hole. I was in romantic turmoil, trying to invision a type of love that would be freed from all contradictions, all logical dysjunctions. I was wondering if pure clear and peaceful love existed, even as a reaching point, an asymptote. Needing to repeatedly process and overcome heartache was the catalyst to creating these songs and grouping them under this project.

Photo by: Aitor Rodero. Outfit: Bebé Espinosa

Compared to The Art of the Concrete, this EP feels more distilled yet emotionally expansive. What did you consciously decide to leave behind in order to arrive at this new sonic language?

If a record was a stim, that’s what The Art of the Concrete was for me. It was my way of learning how to produce, and in the process I was equally overexcited and overwhelmed by the vastness of possibility (hence the irony of the title).

I had to become some sort of sound hoarder before I could understand how I really wanted to articulate myself musically. It’s an experimental record in the full sense of the word, enveloped in the high-frequency energy of my early twenties, and I love it for that. 

Since then, I gave myself the time to be in music, but without the agenda of being an artist to the world - just keeping my input antennae open. I had to reconnect with the heart of it, and deconstruct the trained musician within (call it ‘conservatoire syndrome’). I started listening to my intuition, keeping only the essences, enjoying my own company, and building my world from that place. I also spent time developing my skills as a producer, becoming more intentional in my choices. And, most importantly, I eventually understood my gift, started prioiritizing my voice, and stopped hiding behind my ideas. And there’s still a long way to go!

You’ve described this project as part of building your own archive, a documentation of becoming. When you imagine listening back to these recordings ten years from now, what do you hope they will remind you of?

I hope I still feel proud of the work, and that it reminds me of my commitment to my artistry. I hope it makes me hold my past self tenderly and appreciate the hard work she put in to get me ‘here’. Maybe I’ll have destilled and deconstructed so hard that I’ll be making exclusively drone-based ambient music, smoking a pipe and thinking to myself ‘wow that girl was really working through some s***’.

You often describe songs as organisms that respond to their surroundings. How do different environments (e.g. touring, cities, solitude) practically shape the way a track evolves for you?

They are very much alive and pulsating. I enjoy letting the music breathe in real-time before making it permanent. This EP shape-shifted while I was touring it.

I performed the songs on APORIAMOR while supporting Sampha in the US in early 2024, and it became a kind of testing ground. It helped me see what felt aligned and what didn’t - what needed changing and what needed deepening. Exposing myself in that no-strings-attached way became a real incentive to finish the music.

Going back to the drawing board tends to be easier for me when its prompted by the inercia of external living. Solitude can result either in my thoughts jamming in a loop whilst I drift in a limbo of in-between activities, or I enter a state of hyper-focus and forget I have a body. It is in the latter where the magic tends to happen.

Collaboration seems central to your artistic ecosystem, from long-term work with Sampha to exchanges with artists across very different scenes. What makes a collaboration feel creatively “right” for you?

I’ve been very lucky to have worked with some extraordinary musical minds. I’d say a collaboration is right when everyone is showing up in their truth and working in the service of music (the muse, the craft), and mantaining a sense of mutual respect whilst exercising freedom.

I usually trust that the conspiring forces that lead us to be sharing a room in the first place can be enough to make it worthwhile, or “right”. Of course, like in any collaboration, there’s more or less personal and creative affinity that can unfold. But at the end of the day, making art for a living is a huge privilege.

What is your favourite part of the music-making process and the part you struggle with the most?

My favourite part is the initial spark and the throb of or vision that follows, whether it’s the maturing of a long-time mulling idea or a spontaneous manifestation. The creative infatuation phase. Usually these early ideas arise with energetic bounce and in collaboration.

I just love jamming. I love those moments of lucidity (who doesn’t!). I struggle more with moments of diffuse intention and indecision, when there’s an inner wall that stalls progress and it’s hard to locate and break down. And like most artists, I can find it hard to know when a song is finished, almost to a pathological level.

But so far, more often than not, I’ve proven myself right when I persevere until the end, however torturous it might feel at times…

Photo by Connie Keane | Headpiece by: Annika Thiems

For emerging artists trying to build meaningful relationships rather than transactional networks, what has been your most effective way of connecting with the right collaborators and communities?

I think the key is overcoming the fear of reaching out to people whose work moves you, sparks curiosity or familiarity, because you never know what might come from it!

Creative work can be emotionally intense, especially when projects are rooted in personal experience. On difficult days, what helps you step back, reset, and return to the work with clarity?

Honestly, on those days I get really good at replying to all my emails. I get all my admin done, probably clean the house and get on the phone to my close friends for hours. Most of them are musicians or artists, so they understand and share the underknitting of my daily struggles.

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APORIAMOR by elsas is out now | Listen & Download

elsas on Instagram

SABRI on Sustainable Growth as an Artist, What I Feel Now and Performing on COLORS

Amsterdam-raised singer-songwriter SABRI grew up in a Moroccan-Algerian household where R&B, soul and hip-hop shaped her earliest musical language. Influenced from a young age by artists such as Lauryn Hill, Aaliyah and Mary J. Blige, she began writing songs as a way of understanding her emotions and building a voice of her own, one that now moves fluently between vulnerability, strength and introspection.

Over the past few years she has explored a broad palette of sounds across collaborations with Full Crate, Yung Bleu and Olamide, while steadily developing a songwriting style rooted in honesty and emotional clarity.

Following her debut EP Actually, I Can and a widely-received COLORS performance of Sold Myself For Love earlier this year, SABRI continues to deepen that narrative with What I Feel Now, a project centred on presence, self-awareness andthe complexity of relationships.

What is the story behind What I Feel Now?

‘What I Feel Now’ is really about owning your emotions and being fully present. The EP is rooted in honesty, feminine strength and clarity. It’s not about over-explaining or justifying anything but it’s about feeling something, naming it and letting it move through the music and lyrics. Each track explores a different part of that journey, from desire and release to anger, clarity and self-worth. It’s me being unapologetically me, in real-time.

Your COLORS performance of Sold Myself For Love placed the song in a stripped-back, highly visible context. How was that experience?

Performing on COLORS was intense in the best way. There’s no room to hide — it’s just you and the song. I loved how raw and exposed it felt because it forced me to really focus on the emotion behind the lyrics. It reminded me why I make music in the first place: to feel and to connect.

For artists trying to build sustainable careers, what is one misconception about growth or visibility you had to unlearn yourself?

I used to think that growth meant constant numbers, constant attention. But I realized real growth happens quietly. Learning your craft, figuring out the business side, protecting your energy. You can’t just show up and hope for it; you have to build it from the inside out.

Networking is often discussed in abstract terms. In practical terms, what has actually helped you build meaningful professional relationships?

For me it’s all about being real and showing up consistently. The best connections happen naturally. In the studio, at shows or even just in conversations. Not from forced “networking moments.” Listening, following through and genuinely caring about people goes way further than trying to impress them.

What part of the music-making process do you find most essential to protect, and which part challenges you the most?

I protect the writing stage the most. That’s where the song’s heart is. The part that challenges me is the business side: timing releases, strategizing, making decisions about what to put out. It’s tricky to stay true to the emotion while juggling all the practical stuff.

When you feel stuck creatively, what do you do first to move forward in a practical way, like changing your environment, switching tasks, voice notes, rewriting, or stepping away?

I usually try to change my environment. Going outside, cooking, walking around. Sometimes I record rough voice notes or switch to a different task. And if nothing works, I step away completely. Giving myself space almost always brings new ideas.

What is one decision you made behind the scenes that had a bigger impact on your career than any release or performance?

Back in 2019, I decided to take control of my music and share it on my own terms. I stopped waiting for someone else to validate me or guide me and started putting out music independently that felt true to me. That approach gave me a lot of confidence and clarity, and it eventually led to getting signed in 2024.

What are you listening to right now?

Recently, I’ve been listening a lot to rock classics like songs from Led Zeppelin and The Cranberries and also a lot of blues. More modern artists I listen to on a daily basis are BLK ODYSSY and Leon Thomas.

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Connect with SABRI on Instagram

What I Feel Now

FACTORY: The Brooklyn Collective Built on Friendship and a DIY Ethos

FACTORY is a self-produced, self-written, self-engineered collective formed by Halima, Von, Murielle, and Sophie Hintze; four artists who met at NYU’s Clive Davis Institute and turned nearly a decade of friendship into a creative engine. What began as weekly DIY workshops in their Brooklyn apartments evolved into a shared practice rooted in autonomy, experimentation, and community.

Their first songs emerged organically from those sessions, revealing a chemistry that cuts across their distinct solo careers.

Today, FACTORY operates as a boundary-pushing unit making club-ready music shaped by personal storytelling, collaboration, and a refusal to follow industry rules.

FACTORY is self-produced, self-managed, self-engineered. What made you want to form FACTORY together?

Years ago we would meet every Monday for a self run workshop where we acted as interchangeable parts of each other’s teams for our solo artist projects. Whether it was mixing notes, PR outreach or photo edits, we would show up to help each other, and called those sessions FACTORY.

As four completely different artists with really different sonic identities, we hadn’t considered making music as one unit. But after writing together on a whim it was too undeniable for us not to lean in. That was 3 years ago. Now FACTORY has really become its own name as one collective. 

What tools, platforms, or systems have been game-changers for you in keeping FACTORY running smoothly?

Good comms!!! Being able to communicate directly or attune to different types communication has been so key for us since we're all just really different people with different processes. We have so many group chats to keep all of our conversations and assets organized and use a lot of different organizational/file management tools, but really without good communication none of that solves anything anyways. 

 
Each of your first three releases shows a different side of FACTORY. Which track do you think best introduces who you are as a collective?

Honestly they all kind of encompass our collective breadth, which is important to us. BLOODLINE is a more chill, driving with the windows down kind of song. STICKY TONGUE is more of a charged anthem and BBH is a deep, sexy club track. They all introduce us as what we are: 4 multi hyphenates navigating friendship, career, love and the future. 

What’s one mistake you see new artists make again and again, and how would you avoid it?

Not trusting yourself. Right now especially the comparison game is so tempting. It’s easy to judge yourself or judge whatever’s happening next to you but that’s not actually ever productive. It sounds so simple but it’s so important to really just trust yourself and trust your own timing. Everyone’s lane is their own, everyone’s journey is their own. There’s actually a lot of peace and stability in that. 

What’s one overlooked skill that every artist should learn early on?

How to self regulate. Taking care of yourself, physically & mentally, isn’t overrated. It’s actually vital to having any type of sustainable career in this industry. Drink water, lean on your friends, go dancing, journal, take time for yourself. Learning how to regulate and care for yourself is never a waste of time, it’s a necessity. 

What are you listening to at the moment?

New releases by Halima & Sophie Hintze.

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Follow FACTORY Spotify | YouTube | Instagram 

Stacey Ryan’s 500M-Stream Breakthrough, Debut Album 'Blessing in Disguise' and Her Advice for Emerging Artists

Stacey Ryan has spent the past few years reshaping the edges of pop-soul, weaving her jazz training into a catalogue that first took shape online and has since grown far beyond it. She broke through in 2022 with “Don’t Text Me When You’re Drunk,” the collaboration with Zai1k that became one of TikTok’s biggest trends of the year. “Fall in Love Alone” followed, turning into a major hit across Southeast Asia (reaching No.1 in Indonesia, charting in the Top 5 across the region, and crossing half a billion global streams) while Ryan built an audience that now spans more than two million combined followers and over 1.8 million monthly listeners on Spotify.

A classically trained jazz pianist who also plays guitar, bass, ukulele, and trumpet, Ryan has leaned into that musical grounding as her work has evolved. Her debut EP, I Don’t Know What Love Is (2023), signalled a shift toward more nuanced songwriting, drawing attention for its melodic unpredictability and understated emotional clarity. Live, she spent 2023 and 2024 on the road across the US, Europe, and Asia, performing at festivals including Montreux Jazz Festival, Montreal Jazz Festival, Jakarta Jazz Festival, and MAD Cool.

Ryan released her debut album, Blessing in Disguise, in August 2025, an unguarded collection of songs shaped around the “painful lessons” that ultimately defined her early twenties. The album marked a period where she also began foregrounding her French-Canadian identity, experimenting more openly with bilingual writing and performance. She followed the release with her first North American headline tour in September and October 2025, closing out the year with a clearer sense of artistic direction and a growing international fanbase.

What’s the story behind Blessing In Disguise? If you want to introduce someone to listen to one track from Blessing In Disguise which should it be and why?

The story behind blessing in disguise was kind of built as we were completing the album. I went in just writing music that felt super honest to me and when I sat back and looked at all the songs, there was this common thread that tied them all together. They were all painful lessons I had to learn to grow as a person. And now, I know they were blessings in disguise because I came out stronger on the other side!

How do you keep consistency on socials without feeling like you’re performing for the algorithm?

The most important thing is loving and relating to every piece of content you make. As soon as that passion and creativity starts to get replaced with “I need to post this to go viral” it’s really hard to leave that mindset. But there also needs to be a balance.

What’s your go-to way of connecting with people in the industry without it feeling transactional?

I really have found myself in a group of people, who I met through industry or network events, that have become really important friends of mine and that almost takes the “work” element right out of it. Music is such a personal business that human connection goes hand in hand with it and that makes it feel less transactional for sure.

What’s your favourite/least favourite thing about making music?

My favourite thing is how much smaller it seems to make the world. You know people through social media and word of mouth and then meet them out at an event or show and connect and become friends and collaborators. My least favourite part is probably that it is so competitive and, especially with social media, everyone now gets a shot to get seen and discovered, which in itself is a good thing. Just so many of us out here.

What’s a mistake you wish more emerging artists would avoid early on?

Thinking your initial viral moment or success will carry you through your whole career.

It is the best jumping point and will give you so many amazing connections but the hard work and consistency has to stay to be able to continue it and become a true artist.

What are you listening to right now?

I’m obsessed with Olivia Dean’s album The Art of Loving. It captures so perfectly what it’s like to live and love in your twenties and she just words feelings so perfectly.

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Stacey Ryan on Instagram | YouTube | TikTok

Apple Music / Website 

Acclaimed Poet Sophia Thakur on the Making of ‘Affirmations’ and Her Shift Into Music

Sophia Thakur’s move into music arrives after years of shaping a distinct presence in British poetry. The BBC has referred to her as “The Poet of this Generation,” and Vogue has called her “one of the most adored poets of our time.”

She’s published four books, appeared on Forbes 30 Under 30, and built a live reputation through sold-out shows at The Jazz Café, Bush Hall, and Omeara, as well as performances at Glastonbury, Abbey Road Studios, and Royal Albert Hall.

Thakur introduced her musical direction with ‘My City’, a stripped-back alt-soul track built around voice, space, and personal transition. It was her first solo release and a clear signal that she was ready to carry her storytelling into a new medium. ‘Affirmations’ moves that approach forward. Recorded live with a five-piece band, it pushes deeper into the idea of documenting a moment rather than constructing one, prioritising interplay, presence, and the texture of the room.

What’s the story behind ‘Affirmations’ and how does it reflect where you are creatively right now?

Affirmations is an entirely live recording with 5 musicians in one room, jamming the song for almost an hour, before finding the perfect moment to bring the chorus and words in. Performing live with my musician friends has always been my happy place and Affirmations feels like that, on record.

Creatively I just really want to bring the magic of live performance onto a record. To create a world people can get lost in for a little while. With affirmations, that world is one of bliss, encouragement, hope and tranquility. The world that we deserve to be in as we close out 2025. 

In a time of constant noise, how can artists create work that actually makes people feel something again?

 I think the living is just as important as the making. I've created so many songs, but I'll probably only ever share the ones that reflect a deeply honest and human experience. People need to feel seen and held and I think a song is a perfect opportunity to hold a mirror up to a person and say 'look, I go through these things too'. I. hope my music can connect the world. 

As someone who mentors young writers and performers, what’s one discipline or creative habit you think every artist should cultivate early on?

I can't think of anything better than journaling. Learning how to slow down our thoughts, understand them, explore them...that's how we can arrange powerful stories in our songs. From a clear mind that knows how to explore a feeling.

There are so many distractions these days and when I'm not journaling, I struggle to focus with the level of clarity that I think music deserves.

I would advise that everyone journals but also reads new books. Books give us new language, new imaginations, new feelings and new storylines. It's a cheat code to being a songwriter really. 

You’ve said your goal is to make music you’d listen to at sunset. What does stillness mean to you creatively, and how do you protect it in a busy world?

Coming from a poetry background, it's meant that I'm used to complete, pin-drop, undivided attention during a performance. That acute level of focus from an audience has meant that often times, they're brought to tears or moved in such deep ways. That space of stillness has always been my favourite arena to perform into so I'm trying to do the same with music.

Affirmations has a long musical intro and outro and it's for this very reason. To slow people down, ground them and hopefully create a fertile heart to take in the verse and chorus. 

What keeps you grounded?

I'm human, so I'm not grounded all the time. To be honest, I'm helplessly sensitive and wildly passionate so that can sometimes be derailing.

To come back to my centre, I carve out time for the things that bring me peace and remind me of my greater purpose. I pray to Jesus a lot, for a peaceful mind and happy heart.

I make sure to stretch or exercise and also stay around people who keep my nervous system at peace 

What’s your best tip for finding creativity on a tough day?

I would say for me, going back to things that previously inspired me. Back to old books, old films or songs that used to spark something. Sometimes lightning does strike twice!

What’s your favourite and least favourite thing about making music?

I love that music is basically our own, hand selected soundtrack to life and special moments. I guess the downside is that it also then, carries memories. There are some songs I can't listen to just yet because they carry a memory of a person who has maybe passed away. 

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Sophia Thakur - ‘Affirmations, I’ll Be Okay’ out now

Follow Sophia Thakur on Instagram