Renata Yazzie considers herself a musicologist, advocate and supporter of Indigenous music and musicians — whether she’s making music herself, or studying at Columbia in New York.

"Everything I do is in support of Native people pursuing their musical love," the Diné classical pianist tells GRAMMY.com. "Whether that be teaching, uplifting their music, filling in on keys for a band, promoting shows or writing about them for different outlets, teaching music, or teaching piano… I aim to just help Native musicians get the tools they need to make the music they want to make."

While her work braids Native and classical influences, Yazzie is attuned to sounds across the Indigenous musical spectrum; for instance, she tipped off GRAMMY.com about Levi Platero, a blazing New Mexican blues guitarist who hails from the Navajo Nation.

And as 2023 winds down, Yazzie's championing a panoply of Indigenous acts, from a neo-soul groove machine to a heavy metal fiddler — and below, she explains why she is. Some wear their identities and heritages in more elaborate displays, and some less so — which is just as valid.

"In terms of Indigenous artistry in music and in film and in TV, we are in a moment where Native people are negotiating their own terms with how they want their identity and their art to be connected or not connected," she explains, referring to sensations like "Reservation Dogs." "They're negotiating that on their own terms, and it's an act of sovereignty for us to be able to do that. We haven't always been able to do that."

With this in mind, open your hearts and ears to this cross-section of Indigenous talent, as the curtain opens for Native American Heritage Month 2023.

Earth Surface People

Led by Dakota Yazzie — no relation to Renata — Earth Surface People is a genre-fluid collective with a Navajo core: Yazzie, and his synth-playing younger brother, Cochise Yazzie, are Diné.

Skillfully weaving threads of jazz, fusion, R&B, soul, the group's sound achieves a seamless dialogue between Indigenous and Black American musics — driven home by the artistry of a key collaborator, in Diné vocalist Nanibaah. This aural tapestry is heard on their latest album, 2022's nihook​á​á​ʼ diyin dine​ʼ​é (Earth Surface People).

"Earth Surface People came from a need to tell Indigenous stories, places, history, attitude. It's something I saw a lack of growing up in rural Arizona," Dakota Yazzie told Shoutout Arizona. I grew up around my traditional people: farmers, storytellers, medicine people, jewelers, weavers, artists, revolutionaries, creatives.

"I found a lot of solace in their stories of survival and their stories of triumph," he continued. "How some overcame extraordinary odds with minimal resources."

"I think their work is important because they're pushing Native music into new sounds," Renata Yazzie says, "You don't hear a lot of Native bands that sound like Earth Surface People….. [They're] continuing to showcase that Native people can make whatever sounds they want, and they do."

Ailani

Hailing from Santa Clara Pueblo, New Mexico, the mononymous Ailani — born Ailani Swentzell — is an up-and-coming singer/songwriter who's been committed to the craft since high school.

And the first thing you'll absorb about the indie-popper's driving and intimate sound is her bell-like tone as a vocalist.

"She has got such a clear, pristine, pretty voice," Yazzie says, noting that Ailani comes from a long line of artists, including visual art and ceramics. As she continues, Ailani represents a milieu of young, Native artists who simply write quality songs and put them out there.

"She was always the youngest. And what she was putting out was very well done," Yazzie says of her early perception of Ailani. "And I think her voice is what makes her quite unique."

When Ailani released her last album, 2022's Mortified, she made it clear she was broaching uncharted territory for her artistry.

"I am proud that I broke out of my usual shell a bit. This isn't a usual Ailani heartbreak/falling in love album — don't worry though, you'll still get a solid share of those themes," Ailani told Grimy Goods. She went on to explain that Mortified's title is an unflinching reference to self-hatred, and overcoming it.

"There are so many different things going on in this album, but I like it. I like how it's sort of unapologetically thrown together," Ailani said. "It needs to be, because not everything is clean-cut storylines."

Tinge

Tinge represents the Anishinaabe star in the Indigenous cosmology, as well as that of the Two-Spirit gender identity: their leader, Veronica Blackhawk, who uses they/she pronouns, is both.

Blackhawk has described Tinge's themes as encompassing "mental health and identity" — and if you zoom out, their "experience as a young Indigenous person navigating and healing through intergenerational trauma."

Back in the spring of 2023, the indie rock trio released their debut EP, Big Deep Sigh. Blackhawk characterized its songs,  as "accumulated over years of quiet bedroom writing [where it felt like holding in a deep breath for far too long.

"I exhaled," she continued, "and out came the biggest, deepest sigh I had ever released." And that comes through not only in Blackhawk's unvarnished lyricism, but in the dynamism of the band.

Side Montero

Yazzie calls the Albuquerque-based, Indigenous-led four-piece Side Montero "a band with Native members, but not necessarily a 'Native band'."

Which does not undermine two of its members' Navajo identity one whit, but underscores how some Indigenous artists choose not to make their heritage the focal point.

"They're not super forthright about the Native members' identity. They just [have two] guys who happen to be Native, and they kind of pride themselves on that a little bit, I think," Yazzie opines. "They acknowledge who they are without being over the top about it."

Which leaves the music, which iswhat Side Montero are all about, and their sound represents a fresh spin on well-trod indie and alternative rock territory.

Together, incisive vocals from singer/guitarist Aaron Lee, curlicuing lead guitar from Jaren Robledo, and a walloping rhythm section in bassist Ben Work and drummer Levi Maes make Side Montero a band to watch out for — Indigenous commentary or none.

Sage Cornelius

A heavy metal fiddler? You read that right. Billed as "the most metal fiddle player you know," Sage Haskelchi'i Cornelius is a monster on this unconventional vehicle for riffs and rage.

"He went to school, got a business degree, and just couldn't give up his fiddle," Yazzie says of Cornelius, who has Navajo, Oneida, Potawatomi, and Kickapoo roots. "So, at some point, he made the turn into fiddling full time."

Although Cornelius' YouTube channel features him sawing through headbanging originals, like "Entombed," and covers, like Metallica's "To Live is to Die," Cornelius inhabits all sorts of genres; he just finished a tour with singer/songwriter Shawn James, for instance.

"He always blows people away," Yazzie says admiringly of Cornelius. And like everyone else on this list, his music speaks loud and clear: he, nor any other Indigenous creators, defies compartmentalization or easy assessment.

America Has Birthed A Wealth Of Musical Forms. These Indigenous Artists Want To Know Where They Fit Into Them.

A festival promoter told Delbert Anderson he didn't present as Indigenous enough. The trumpeter and his group, DDAT, showed up to the State Fair of Texas in what he calls "the Native American section" — filled with dancers in traditional garb, among other signifiers. DDAT, for their part, donned suits. 

"They immediately assumed that we had some type of traditional feather show," Anderson, who is of Diné and Navajo descent, tells GRAMMY.com. "They probably thought we were going to show up in regalia or something."

The promoter asked Anderson whether or not DDAT played traditional music. "No, we don't," he responded. "But there are a lot of melodies that are inspired from that." The promoter didn't comprehend this — so much so that she went up to Anderson mid-set and shoved a turquoise necklace around his neck. 

Anderson was shocked. "I kind of stopped and said, 'Excuse me,'" he recalls. "And she just sort of said, 'You don't look Native enough.'"

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Read More: Meet Delbert Anderson, A Native American Trumpet Master Interweaving Navajo Melodies With Jazz

Ever good-humored, Anderson brushed off the harassment and tossed the necklace around his white bass player's neck. Still, he can't get the incident out of his head. "That's one of the first times anything like that has happened to me," he says. "They expect that kind of back-to-the-roots, traditional type of music from anyone who uses the words 'Native,' 'Indigenous' or 'tribal.'"

He's not alone: Many musicians of Indigenous ancestry in his circle — and outside of it — have felt the micro- and macroaggressions come fast and hard. And othering those who identify and market themselves as Indigenous isn't exclusive to jazz.

Even though Indigenous peoples have been here longer than anyone, they face tension, discomfort and/or unadulterated racism in a slew of genres understood to be American — from country to blues to gospel to hip-hop.

This is despite the fact that all these genres have deep Indigenous roots. Jazz household names Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk had Native American ancestry. Same with blues musicians like Howlin' Wolf, Charley Patton and Martha Redbone. In classic rock, you've got Jimi Hendrix and Robbie Robertson. The list goes on.

Renata Yazzie. Photo: Darklisted Photography​

Despite this, Diné classical pianist Renata Yazzie says moving through her world is a "scabrous" experience. "The greatest difficulty is not only teaching ignorant people, but willfully ignorant people who refuse to recognize how the elitism of classical music has affected historically underrepresented groups," she tells GRAMMY.com.

Why do musicians who identify as Indigenous, like Anderson, Yazzie, Mali Obomsawin, Adrian Wall, JJ Otero, James Pakootas, Julia Keefe, Warren Realrider and Raven Chacon — all of whom spoke to GRAMMY.com for this story — experience such tension, both from within their communities and in the wider world?

The answers are manifold, varying wildly between artists and their tribal affiliations. Here are some of the ways that artists of Indigenous descent have experienced unease in the American music landscape — and how they overcame it.

Howlin' Wolf. Photo: Gilles Petard/Redferns​ via Getty Images

Considering The Course Of History

Since time immemorial, Indigenous peoples have developed an impossibly broad array of musical traditions. And with the arrival — or invasion, depending on who you ask — of European settlers came trade, fighting over boundaries and the introduction of European instruments.

At mission schools, Europeans taught Native Americans to compose on European instruments. This led to students composing Indigenous usic with those tools and methods. Works like 1845's Indian Melodies featured traditional Native tunes composed with European notation.

In the back-half of the 19th century, the primordial stew of Black American music was percolating — the one that would give the world jazz, blues and other idioms. And the pervasive invisibility felt by Indigenous peoples meant they had a point of commiseration with Black musical communities.

"Black and Indigenous people have been in community with each other since the beginning, since Black Africans were forcibly brought here for slavery," jazz bassist Mali Obomsawin, who is affiliated with the Odanak Abenaki First Nation tribe, tells GRAMMY.com. "I think people tend to forget that many of the founding blues and jazz artists were both Black and Native."

This confluence of heritages and traditions has been obscured by what Obomsawin calls a larger obfuscation of Indigenous identity — coupled with anti-Blackness. "If someone like Thelonious Monk, who was Tuscarora, was to be like, 'I'm Native American,' everyone would be like, 'No, you're Black,'" Obomsawin says.

"It was not desirable for Natives to be higher in numbers, whereas it was desirable for Black folks to be higher in numbers because they were considered property," she continues. "That means that slave owners and human traffickers had more property value. Whereas the more people that were Native, the more people the government was accountable to."

Mildred Bailey. Photo: Bettmann/Contributor via Getty Images

Julia Keefe, a jazz vocalist and enrolled member of the Nez Perce tribe, is acutely aware of the crossroads of Blackness and Indigenousness in early American music.

"There is a historical precedent for Native Americans in jazz," she tells GRAMMY.com, citing Indigenous people who learned European music in boarding and residential schools. "Around the same time that jazz was taking off in the '20s and '30s, there is evidence of Native people forming their own big bands."

One lesser-known early Indigenous jazz musician was Mildred Bailey, a singer of Native descent from the Coeur d'Alene tribe.

"She was the first one to sing in front of a big band," Keefe notes. "You think about all the female vocalists — Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughan — who got their start singing in front of big band, and it was because there was such an appetite for that sound by Mildred Bailey singing in front of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra."

Oscar Pettiford. Photo: Michael Ochs Archives via Getty Images

But Bailey is just the tip of the iceberg in this regard. Besides Parker and Monk, there's a lengthy list of jazz artists of Indigenous descent — including saxophonist Jim Pepper, bassist Oscar Pettiford and trumpeter and multi-instrumentalist Don Cherry.

And jazz is but one piece of the puzzle: Indigenous artists can be found in all genres. But at times, proudly broadcasting their heritage in these spaces has proved difficult in the face of divisive politics.

Navigating Political Divides

While Anderson can only speak for his local scene near Farmington, New Mexico, he has a clear vantage on what it's like to market oneself as a Native American musician.

"I think as time progressed from the '80s until now, there were a lot of stronger Indigenous voices that came out," he says, citing activist causes like the American Indian Movement. "The moment you try to take any stand for Native American something, people tend to take those words as 'You're a hardcore activist.'"

"I mean, I could go outside right now and say, 'I stand with Standing Rock,'" he adds. "Immediately, people are going to think of me as a negative force here."

And while that scene comprised a healthy variety of perspectives and genres, it attracted judgement from the outside. "I think a lot of the people who were involved didn't really realize what they were creating," Anderson says. "It really looked like they were making some type of coalition — or Indigenous organization — that's going to fight everything that goes in their path."

Delbert Anderson. Photo: Maurice Johnson

This atmosphere weighed heavily on Anderson's career in 2013, when DDAT began to market themselves as "Native American jazz." (James Pakootas, their MC, is Indigenous; bassist Michael McCluhan is white; drummer Nicholas Lucero is Hispanic.)

"We immediately got thrown into this pool of musicians that were stirring up this big group or organization," Anderson says. "The moment we said 'We are Native American jazz,' they immediately assumed we're part of this Native American music scene, and it lost us gigs because they thought we were there to lecture the audience."

Anderson saw his more militant colleagues as refusing to compromise, acting as if rules didn't apply to them. "There's a lot of that showing up in musicians today," he says. "The moment a venue says something that they can't do, like, 'Oh, you can't burn cedar here before the show,' or anything like that, they'll throw a huge, huge fit."

"I hate to say it," Anderson says, "but it kind of ruined it for the rest of us who don't participate in that ceremony."

To avoid these associations, DDAT eventually decided to pivot away from "Native American jazz," describing themselves as a funk/jazz group inspired by Indigenous melodies. "People started to see us as not being activists, or the rowdy ones," Anderson says. As a result, the group immediately started getting offered more gigs.

Julia Keefe. Photo: Don Hamilton

Braving Inner Conflict

This dissonance isn't limited to sociopolitical factions, or a conflict between musicians and promoters — although Anderson could certainly share other horror stories. Even so-called enlightened spaces, like jazz workshops, have left Indigenous musicians second-guessing themselves.

"At gigs or at workshops or what have you, people will come up and be kind of aggressive about it — almost offended," Keefe says. "Like, [Flustered voice] 'What does that mean? What do you mean you are a Native American jazz vocalist?' 'Well, I'm Native American and I sing jazz. That's what I do.'"

"With that confrontation of my identity," she adds, "there's been tension within myself of, 'If I'm going to claim my Native heritage on my business card, should my music be more influenced by my Indigenous heritage?'"

But even if an artist defines what Indigenousness means for themselves, it's bound to create friction with others' preconceptions or stereotypes. "That's something that Natives come up against in any sort of art form," Obomsawin says.

Adrian Wall. Photo: Shondinii Walters​

Adrian Wall, a flutist and guitarist with roots in the Jemez Pueblo tribe, experiences dislocation just by announcing who he is to the world.

"Once you play the Native card, you're kind of stuck being a Native musician when you're actually playing music that's accepted worldwide just as American music," he tells GRAMMY.com. "Once you call yourself a Native, all of a sudden you're playing Native music."

Raven Chacon, a Diné composer who works in the experimental and noise scenes, has had to push against assumptions that his work would be stereotypically Native — or adjacent to new age. 

"There was an assumption it was going to involve flutes or drums or something," he tells GRAMMY.com with a laugh. "Even from people should know better, there have been assumptions."

Raven Chacon. Photo: Jamie Drummond

To fellow experimental musician and sound sculpturist Warren Realrider — who is Pawnee and enrolled with the Crow Nation of Montana and makes music akin to John Zorn, Pauline Oliveros and Merzbow — the solution lies in creating a music industry framework that accurately represents Indigenous creators.

"These systems of music, distribution, performance, whatever — they are built on a world that's not the Indigenous world," he tells GRAMMY.com. "You're always going to have to work against that in some way."

Plus, as a representative of his background in the insular noise space, Realrider's work has become bigger than him — he feels inordinate pressure to not let his tribe down.

"A lot of Indigenous artists don't lose that aspect," he says, considering the arc of his life and career so far. "That's something you carry along with you, and you present yourself that way."

Addressing Language Barriers

Sometimes, the criticism comes from within Indigenous communities themselves. JJ Otero, a Hopi and Diné singer/songwriter inspired by bands like Counting Crows and Pearl Jam, had to deal with the finer points of language — even one he knew backward and forward.

"I didn't use the Navajo language in my music for the longest time," he tells GRAMMY.com from his home on a Navajo reservation. "The white guys in [my first band, Saving Damsels] said, 'You should write a song in Navajo that we can play.'"

JJ Otero. Photo: Unek Francis

Despite being a fluent Navajo speaker, Otero wanted to be careful that he said things exactly right. "I don't want my songs to just be a lazy utterance of words in Navajo," he says. To thread the needle, Otero enlisted his father to vet his lyrics for inexact grammar and syntax.

"I do believe that sometimes our own people can be our toughest critics," Otero says. "We can take that criticism and be mad and upset about it, or we can dive deeper into why those criticisms exist and understand the foundation of why Navajo is sacred."

Facing One's Own Community

As a rapper and motivational speaker who spits bars in DDAT, James Pakootas operates by what he calls "a very deep awareness of protocol."

"A lot of times, Native artists in contemporary music want to meld the two worlds, but it seems like sometimes they're taking away from the culture. It's not done with care," Pakootas tells GRAMMY.com. "It's like sampling a powwow song, putting it on a hip-hop beat and calling it good."

James Pakootas. Photo: Maurice Johnson

To avoid this sort of mishandling, Pakootas works with collaborators to tell his stories as considerately as possible, preferring to bring in a drum group and analyze together how the story could be told.

"A lot of songs I know are ceremony songs," he adds. "There's not going to be any of those that I share because there's a protocol in place to keep that sacred. There's a time and a place for that song to be sung or that melody to be used."

Reaching Harmony From Dissonance

How can music fans right these wrongs and push against the othering of Indigenous artists? Maybe the first step is realizing that Indigenous music is all music.

"Native people are very much seen as mythological creatures, as the villains in Westerns, the mascots that you love to hate, or whatever," Keefe says. "So, I can see why [musical discrimination] would be a thing because so often we are perceived as a figment of someone's imagination."

Warren Realrider. Photo: Shane Brown​

For Obomsawin, this necessary shift begins with education — and by listening to the stories of her elders. In her case, that teacher is Pura Fé, a Tuscarora and Taino vocalist and activist related to Thelonious Monk.

"She is so intimately aware of those dual legacies — the Black and Native lineages of jazz," Obomsawin says. "I just hope that more air time is given to the elders in the jazz and blues community who know those things. I think it could really help to unearth some of those stories as really important parts of American music history — as well as our history in general."

Mali Obomsawin. Photo: Nolan Altvater​

As for Yazzie, she believes significant change won't occur until we give sovereignty to Indigenous artists — so they can decide who their audience is, why they perform their music, what their music sounds like, where they want their music played, and how they want it to be perceived by the rest of the world.

"I always maintain that Native music is Native music because a Native person is outputting it," Yazzie says. "But on the flipside, you don't want to limit people to where all they do is Native music. I think you have to be really careful to not use the Native music label as a way to put people in a specific box. Because Native music is still also blues. It's still jazz. It's still country. It's still hip-hop. It's still classical music. [Indigenous] people are in those genre-specific spaces and they're doing amazing things."

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When considering this subject, Anderson always returns to Don Cherry, who remains one of his idols. "In one of his interviews, he said, 'Hey, it's about meeting other people. It's about having relationships with your friends,'" he says.

"I think everyone just needs to go back to their original state, going back to just being a human and recognizing that we're all humans here," Anderson adds. "Approach each other as human beings with our minds or our thoughts."

Anderson is bringing Cherry's openhearted philosophy to his next endeavor — collaborating with the American Pops Orchestra for a Bureau of Land Management project. This has been a laborious process, with no shortage of fine lines to navigate.

"Bringing this orchestra onto the Indigenous lands is going to be a real struggle because of all the racial division going on in the world," he says. But in the end, Anderson believes all the work is going to be worth it.

"Having these two different identities on that land, I'm hoping the land can really heal the group that's there," he says. "I mean, if the land really heals, we're going to put the land to the test." 

Because it's happened before on this soil: Indigenous people and those of so many other backgrounds have come together to make great American music. Sure, it's been a rocky path to get there — sometimes a troubling and treacherous one. But Anderson and his colleagues aren't afraid to tread it.

Commonalities, Subtleties & Purpose: 7 Musicians Pushing Ancient Asian Instruments Into The Future

The 2024 Paris Olympics came to life today as the Parade of Nations glided along the Seine River for the opening ceremony. The opening spectacular featured musical performances from Lady Gaga, Celine Dion, and more. Earlier in the week, some of music’s biggest names were also spotted in the city for the Olympics, including Olympics special correspondent Snoop Dogg, BTS' Jin, Pharrell Williams, Tyla, Rosalía, and Ariana Grande.

Read More: When The GRAMMYs & Olympics Align: 7 Times Music's Biggest Night Met Global Sports Glory

Below, see a full breakdown of some of the special musical moments from the 2024 Paris Olympics opening ceremony.

In a grand entrance, Lady Gaga emerged behind a heart-shaped plume of feathers on the golden steps of Square Barye, captivating the audience with her cover of the French classic "Mon truc en plumes." Accompanied by cabaret-style background dancers, she flawlessly belted out the song, executed impressive choreography, and even played the piano.

Lady Gaga’s connection to the song is notable, as Zizi Jeanmarie, the original artist, starred in Cole Porter’s musical "Anything Goes," which was Lady Gaga’s debut jazz release.

"Although I am not a French artist, I have always felt a very special connection with French people and singing French music — I wanted nothing more than to create a performance that would warm the heart of France, celebrate French art and music, and on such a momentous occasion remind everyone of one of the most magical cities on earth — Paris," Lady Gaga shared on Instagram.

Celine Dion 

Closing out the ceremony with her first performance in four years since being diagnosed with stiff-person syndrome, Celine Dion delivered a stunning rendition of Edith Piaf’s everlasting classic, "L’Hymne à l’amour" from the Eiffel Tower. Her impressive vocals made it seem as though she had never left.

This performance marked Dion’s return to the Olympic stage; she previously performed "The Power of the Dream" with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and composer David Foster for the 1996 Olympics.

Axelle Saint-Cirel 

Performing the National Anthem is no small feat, yet French mezzo-soprano Axelle Saint-Cirel knocked it out of the park.

Dressed in a French-flag-inspired Dior gown, she delivered a stunning rendition of "La Marseillaise" from the roof of the Grand Palais, infusing the patriotic anthem with her own contemporary twist.

With the stirring lyrics, "To arms, citizens! Form your battalions. Let’s march, let’s march," Saint-Cirel brought the spirit of patriotism resonated powerfully throughout the city. 

Gojira 

Making history as the first metal band to perform at the Olympics Opening Ceremony is just one way Gojira made their mark at the event.

The French band took the stage at the Conciergerie, a historic site that once housed French kings during medieval times and later became a prison during the French Revolution, famously detaining Marie Antoinette – Creating a monumental moment as the first metal band to perform at the ceremony, but also stirring the pot as they used the chance to nod toward politics. 

Performing a revamped version of "Ah! Ça Ira," an anthem that grew popular during the French Revolution, the artists aren’t new to using their songs as a vehicle for political messages. The GRAMMY-nominated group are outspoken about issues concerning the environment, particularly with their song, "Amazonia," which called out the climate crisis in the Amazon Rainforest. Using music to spread awareness about political issues is about as metal as it gets. 

Aya Nakamura

Currently France’s most-streamed musician, Aya Nakamura went for gold in a striking metallic outfit as she took the stage alongside members of the French Republican Guard. As there were showstopping, blazing fireworks going off behind her, she performed two of her own hit songs, "Pookie" and "Djadja," then followed with renditions of Charles Aznavour’s "For Me Formidable" and "La Bohème." 

Although there was backlash regarding Nakamura’s suitability for performing at the ceremony, French President Emmanuel Macron dismissed the criticism. "She speaks to a good number of our fellow citizens and I think she is absolutely in her rightful place in an opening or closing ceremony," Macron told the Guardian.

Since Ice Spice first caught our attention two summers ago, she's been nothing short of a rap sensation. From viral hits like her breakout "Munch (Feelin' U)," to co-signs from Drake and Cardi B, to a Best New Artist nomination at the 2024 GRAMMYs, the Bronx native continues to build on her momentum — and now, she adds a debut album to her feats.

Poised to be one of the hottest drops of the summer, Y2K! expands on Ice Spice's nonchalant flow and showcases her versatility across 10 unabashedly fierce tracks. She dabbles in Jersey club on "Did It First," throws fiery lines on lead single "Think U the S— (Fart)," and follows the album's nostalgic title with an interpolation of an early '00s Sean Paul hit on "Gimmie a Light."

Y2K! also adds more star-studded features to Ice Spice's catalog, with Travis Scott, Gunna and Central Cee featuring on "Oh Shh...," "B— I'm Packin'," and "Did It First," respectively. At the helm is producer RiotUSA, Ice Spice's longtime friend-turned-collaborator who has had a hand in producing most of the rapper's music — proving that she's found her stride.

As you stream Ice Spice's new album, here are five key takeaways from her much-awaited debut, Y2K!.

Ice Spice is one of the few ladies holding down the New York drill scene on a mainstream level. She's particularly rooted in Bronx drill, a hip-hop subgenre known for its hard-hitting 808s, high-hats and synthesizers — and according to the sounds of Y2K!, it’s seemingly always going to be part of her artistry.

"It's always time to evolve and grow as an artist, so I'm not rushing to jump into another sound or rushing to do something different," Ice Spice told Apple Music of her tried-and-true musical style. 

While Y2K! may not be as drill-driven as her debut EP Like…?, the album further hints that Ice isn't ready to retire the sound anytime soon. The subgenre is the dominant force across the album's 10 tracks, and most evident in "Did It First," "Gimmie a Light" and "BB Belt." Even so, she continues her knack for putting her own flair on drill, bringing elements of trap and electronic music into bops like "Oh Shhh…" and "Think U the S— (Fart)."

Minus a few tunes, all of Ice Spice's songs start off with her signature "Stop playing with 'em, Riot" catchphrase — a direct nod to her right-hand man RiotUSA. Ice and Riot met while attending Purchase College in New York, and they've been making music together since 2021's "Bully Freestyle," which served as Ice's debut single. "As I was growing, she was growing, and we just kept it in-house and are growing together," Riot told Finals in a 2022 interview.

Riot produced every track on Like.. ? as well as "Barbie World," her GRAMMY-nominated Barbie soundtrack hit with Nicki Minaj. Their musical chemistry continues to shine on Y2K!, as Riot had a hand in each of the LP's 10 tracks.

In a surprising move, though, Ice doesn't just lean on Riot this time around. Synthetic, who worked on Lil Uzi Vert's GRAMMY-nominated "Just Wanna Rock," brings his Midas touch to "Think U the S—." Elsewhere, "B— I'm Packin'" is co-produced by Riot, Dj Heroin, and indie-pop duo Ojivolta, who earned a GRAMMY nomination in 2022 for their work on Kanye West's Donda. But even with others in the room, Riot's succinct-yet-boisterous beats paired with Ice's soft-spoken delivery once again prove to be the winning formula.

Named after Ice Spice's birthdate (January 1, 2000), her debut album celebrates all things Y2K, along with the music and colorful aesthetics that defined the exciting era. To drive home the album's throwback theme, Ice tapped iconic photographer David LaChapelle for the cover artwork, which features the emcee posing outside a graffiti-ridden subway station entrance. LaChapelle's vibrant, kitschy photoshoots of Mariah Carey, Lil' Kim, Britney Spears, and the Queen of Y2K Paris Hilton became synonymous with the turn of the millennium.

True to form, Y2K!'s penultimate song and second single "Gimmie a Light" borrows from Sean Paul's "Gimme the Light," which was virtually inescapable in 2002. "We really wanted to have a very authentic Y2K sample in there," Ice Spice said in a recent Apple Music Radio interview with Zane Lowe. Not only does the Sean Paul sample bring the nostalgia, but it displays Ice's willingness to adopt new sounds like dancehall on an otherwise drill-heavy LP.

Taking the Y2K vibes up another notch, album closer "TTYL," a reference to the acronym-based internet slang that ruled the AIM and texting culture of the early aughts. The song itself offers fans a peek insideIce's lavish and exhilarating lifestyle: "Five stars when I'm lunchin'/ Bad b—, so he munchin'/ Shoot a movie at Dunkin'/ I'm a brand, it's nothin.'"

Whether she's flaunting her sex appeal in "B— I'm Packin'" or demanding potential suitors to sign NDAs in "Plenty Sun," Ice exudes confidence from start to finish on Y2K!.

On the fiery standout track "Popa," Ice demonstrates she's in a league of her own: "They ain't want me to win, I was chosen/ That b— talkin' s—, she get poked in/ Tell her drop her pin, we ain't bowlin'/ Make them b—hes sick, I got motion." And just a few songs later, she fully declares it with "BB Belt": "Everybody be knowin' my name (Like)/ Just want the money, I don't want the fame (Like)/ And I'm different, they ain't in my lane."

For Ice, "baddie" status goes beyond one's physical attributes; it's a mindset she sells with her sassy delivery and IDGAF attitude.

In album opener "Phat Butt," Ice boasts about rocking Dolce & Gabbana, popping champagne, and being a four-time GRAMMY nominee: "Never lucky, I been blessed/ Queen said I'm the princess/ Been gettin' them big checks in a big house/ Havin' rich sex," she asserts.

Further down the track list, Ice Spice firmly stands in her place as rap's newest queen. In "BB Belt," she raps, "I get money, b—, I am a millionaire/ Walk in the party, everybody gon' stare/ If I ain't the one, why the f— am I here, hm?"

Between trekking across the globe for her first headlining tour and lighting up the Empire State Building orange as part of her Y2K! album rollout, Ice Spice shows no signs of slowing down. And as "BB Belt" alludes, her deal with 10K Projects/Capitol Records (she owns her masters and publishing) is further proof that she's the one calling the shots in her career.

Whatever Ice decides to do next, Y2K! stands as a victory lap; it shows her prowess as drill's latest superstar, but also proves she has the confidence to tackle new sounds. As she rapped in 2023's "Bikini Bottom," "How can I lose if I'm already chose?" Judging by her debut album, Ice Spice is determined to keep living that mantra.

July has graced us with a diverse array of new music from all genres, lighting up dance floors and speakers everywhere.

The last weekend of the month brings exciting new collaborations, including another iconic track from Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding, as well as a fierce team-up from Paris Hilton and Meghan Trainor. Halsey and Muni Long offered a taste of their forthcoming projects, while Jordan Davis and Miranda Lambert each delivered fun new country tunes. 

In addition to fresh collabs and singles, there's a treasure trove of new albums to uncover. Highlights include Ice Spice's Y2K!, Rakim's G.O.D., Sam Tompkins' hi, my name is insecure, Wild Rivers' Never Better, Tigirlily Gold's Blonde, and kenzie's biting my tongue.

As you check out all the new music that dropped today, be sure you don't miss these 10 tracks and albums.

Although fans anticipated Machine Gun Kelly's next release to mark his return to hip-hop, no one seems to be complaining about "KellyRoll." Embracing the trend of venturing into the country genre, mgk teams up with fellow GRAMMY-nominated artist Jelly Roll on their newest track, "Lonely Road."

The genre-blending track interpolates John Denver's classic "Take Me Home, Country Roads." However, unlike Denver's sentimental ode to the simplicity of rural life, mgk and Jelly Roll reinterpret the track through the lens of romantic relationships that have come to a, well, lonely end.

As mgk revealed in an Instagram post, "Lonely Road" was a labor of love for both him and Jelly Roll. "We worked on 'Lonely Road' for 2 years, 8 different studios, 4 different countries, changed the key 4 times," he wrote. "We finally got it right."

In another interpolation special, Halsey samples not one but two classics in their latest single, "Lucky." The song's production features elements of Monica's 1999 hit "Angel of Mine," while the chorus flips Britney Spears' fan-favorite "Lucky" into a first-person narrative.

While Halsey has always been a transparent star, their next project is seemingly going to be even more honest than their previous releases. After first revealing their journey with lupus with the super-personal "The End" in June, "Lucky" further details their struggles: "And I told everybody I was fine for a whole damn year/ And that's the biggest lie of my career."

Though they haven't revealed a release date for their next project, Halsey referred to her next era as a "monumental moment in my life" in an Instagram post about the "Lucky" music video — hinting that it may just be their most powerful project yet.

Read More: Everything We Know About Halsey's New Album

Ahead of Paris Hilton's forthcoming album, Infinite Icon — her first in nearly 20 years — the multihyphenate unveiled another female-powered collaboration, this time with Meghan Trainor. Co-produced by Sia, "Chasin'" is a lively pop anthem about discovering self-worth in romantic relationships and finding the strength to walk away from toxicity.

"She is the sister I always needed and when she calls me sis, I die of happiness inside," Trainor told Rolling Stone about her relationship with Hilton. Coincidentally, Trainor first wrote the track with her brother, Ryan, but the pop star was waiting for the right collaborator to hop on the track — and Hilton was just that.

"We made something truly iconic together," Trainor added. "It was a bucket list dream come true for me."

A highly awaited return to music after eight years, Australian electro-pop duo Empire Of The Sun are back with their fourth studio album, Ask That God.

"This body of work represents the greatest shift in consciousness our world has ever seen and that's reflected in the music," says member Lord Littlemore in a press statement.

Like their previous work that transports listeners to a different universe, this album continues that tradition with trancey tracks like lead single "Changes" and the thumping title track. Ask That God offers a chance to reflect on the blend of reality and imagination, while also evoking the radiant energy of their past songs.

Dance music's collaborative powerhouse, Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding, are back with another summer hit. Their latest track, "Free," marks the fourth collaboration between the duo — and like their past trilogy of hits, the two have another banger on their hands.

The track debuted earlier this month at Harris' show in Ibiza, where Goulding made a surprise appearance to perform "Free" live. With Harris delivering an infectious uptempo house beat and Goulding's silky vocals elevating the track, "Free" proves that the pair still have plenty of musical chemistry left.

Post Malone's transition into country music has been anything but slow; in fact, the artist went full-throttle into the genre. The  New York-born, Texas-raised star embraced his new country era with collaborations alongside some of the genre's biggest superstars, like Morgan Wallen and Blake Shelton. Continuing this momentum as he gets closer to releasing F-1 Trillion, Post Malone teams up with Luke Combs for the new track "Guy For That."

The catchy collaboration tells the story of a relationship that has faded, where the protagonist knows someone who can fix almost anything, except for a broken heart. It's an upbeat breakup song that, like Post's previous F-1 Trillion releases, can get any party going — especially one in Nashville, as Malone and Combs did in the track's music video.

Just one month after Surfaces released their latest album, good morning, the duo's Forrest Frank unveiled his own project, CHILD OF GOD — his debut full-length Christian album. Among several features on the LP, one of the standouts is with GRAMMY-winning artist Tori Kelly on the track "Miracle Worker."

Over a plucky electric guitar and lo-fi beats, Frank and Kelly trade verses before joining for the second chorus. Their impassioned vocals elevate the song's hopeful prayer, "Miracle Worker make me new."

Their collaboration arrives just before both artists hit the road for their respective tours. Frank kicks his U.S. trek off in Charlotte, North Carolina on July 31, and Kelly starts her world tour in Taipei, Taiwan on Aug. 17.

Since their debut in 2022 with "Tippy Toes," Japanese girl group XG has been making waves and showing no signs of slowing down. With their first mini album released in 2023 and now their latest single, "SOMETHING AIN'T RIGHT," the group continues to rise with their distinctive visuals and infectious hits.

The track features a nostalgic rhythm reminiscent of early 90s R&B, showcasing the unique personalities of each member. As an uptempo dance track, it's designed to resonate with listeners from all across the globe.

"SOMETHING AIN'T RIGHT" also serves as the lead single for XG's upcoming second mini album, set to release later this year.

For nearly 15 years, Mustard has been a go-to producer for some of rap's biggest names, from Gucci Mane to Travis Scott. On the heels of earning his first Billboard Hot 100 chart-topper as a producer with Kendrick Lamar's "Not Like Us," he's back with his own collaboration-filled project.

Faith of a Mustard Seed features a robust 14-song track list with contributions from Vince Staples, Lil Yachty, Charlie Wilson, and more. The LP marks Mustard's fourth studio album, and first since 2019's Perfect Ten.

In an interview with Billboard, Mustard shared that the album's title is an ode to late rapper Nipsey Hussle, who suggested the title during one of their final conversations before his untimely death in 2019. And once "Not Like Us" hit No. 1, Mustard knew it was time to release the long-in-the-making album.