Sibling electro-pop duo BROODS, consisting of Georgia and Caleb Nott, love making music but don't take it too seriously. Growing up in New Zealand, their parents encouraged them to sing and learn instruments from a young age and, consequentially, music became, and remains, their lifeblood.

Back in 2013, they released their first (self-titled) EP, co-written by the duo and produced by fellow Kiwi Joel Little. (Little would go on to earn a GRAMMY win for his work with another rising New Zealand alt-pop artist that year: Lorde.) The next year, they followed up with their debut album, Evergreen, with the singles "Bridges" and "Mother & Father" charting in New Zealand, Australia and the U.S., launching a still-growing, global fan base.

Earlier this year, Georgia and Caleb dropped their third album, Don't Feed The Pop Monster, on Feb. 1. For the latest episode of the Recording Academy's Up Close & Personal, they spoke about their latest album, the creative process of it and why "Too Proud" was a big deal for them.

They also talked about the inspiration behind their wacky "Peach" music video, growing up with music as the driving force and who they'd want to perform with, dead or alive. You can watch a portion of the conversation above and read the full interview below. You can also visit on our YouTube page for a longer version of the video, as well as for other recent episodes.

So you guys released your third album, Don't Feed The Pop Monster, earlier this year. What was your original vision going into that and the overarching themes?

Georgia: When we were making this album, Don't Feed The Pop Monster, there wasn't really—

Caleb: —any kind of vision.

Georgia: We were just kind of in a position where we'd made a couple of albums and we'd been on a couple of labels and been dropped a couple of times. We had an opportunity to kind of just make whatever we wanted and kind of use our freedom to our advantage, rather than get down about being a little bit lonely and isolated.

Caleb: And having no label support or money, so we just did whatever we wanted as a result!

Georgia: I think the fact that we were in that position made the album what it is. The themes of the album are very in line with going through that experience of questioning yourself and, like every creative person, I think, goes through self-doubt.

Caleb: Imposter syndrome.

Georgia: And so it's a lot to do with that and trying to figure out how to be self-congratulatory and sustain yourself without having a clear, "This is what will happen if you release this album, This is what you'll get back," because there's never really anything like that. So you just gotta kind of do it for fun!

I love it. And on the album, you worked with Joel Little again, right?

Georgia: We did a couple of songs with Joel Little.

Can you talk about your creative process specific to this LP?

Georgia: With this album, we didn't work with one producer. In the past, we've worked with one producer for pretty much the whole album. This time we worked with—

Caleb: A bunch of different friends; Tommy English and Leroy Clampitt a.k.a. Big Taste.

Georgia: We did lots of co-writing as well. On the last records, we didn't really have other co-writers. But [for this album] we did this amazing writing trip in Nicaragua where we were working with different writers every day. I think the amount of collaboration that we did on this record was awesome, was definitely—

Caleb: Super fun!

Georgia: It taught us a lot about writing and how to, you know, be adaptable and kind of push yourself and experience with different kinds of music and different vibes, different themes.

What do you think was your favorite part about the collaborative process from that experience?

Caleb: I think collaborating with others is a key part of dodging creative block, number one, because you've got multiple minds working with you that can assist you and you're not just by yourself going, "Ugh, I have no idea what to do," and you can bounce off each other. I think the productivity of collaboration is awesome.

Georgia: Yeah. It kind of takes away a lot of the pressure as well.

Caleb: Especially if you like the people that you're working with, you know?

Georgia: Yeah. It also makes the experience of just making something with your friends and then getting to listen to it and show people and play it on stage. The whole process of this album was so fun and playing it on stage is so fun.

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What have been your favorite songs this go around to perform live?

Caleb: I don't know, I feel like a surprising song to play on tour for us was "To Belong." We didn't really expect that crowd to respond to that one as much as a single or anything but they seem to know all the words. It's also the one six-minute song on the album.

Georgia: Yeah, we start our set with that song second and it's just all about vibes and pulling in the audience into our heads. And it's such a live album, if that makes sense. It's was so easy when we were writing it to imagine it live. And the way that it felt actually playing it live was just satisfying as hell.

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I want to talk about the "Peach" video because there's a lot in there.

Georgia: It's very overstimulating, that video!

It's very '90s pop vibes, I love it. Can you speak to the story behind that song and video a bit?

Caleb: I think a lot of people expect there to be a lot more in-depth thought about the "Peach" video, or a lot more planning or writing that went with it, but it was just the right people on the right day, kind of. And we had an incredible director [Sam Kristofski], a friend of ours from back in New Zealand as well, that's based here and basically just let him go—

Georgia: Go crazy!

Caleb: —and do what he thought because we love everything he makes. And he's super funny.

Georgia: We kind of just had one initial idea that we wanted it to be kind of the show that we used to watch when we were kids called "Top of the Pops." Is that a thing here?

Caleb: I don't think it was.

Georgia: No, but it's basically just a music TV show where pop artists from that time would come and do a performance, lip syncing obviously, and it was just like amazing lights and super early-2000s/late '90s. So cringey but in the best way!

And we wanted to recreate that kind of vibe, that nostalgic music show thing but then just trip it out like crazy. And have six different costume changes, because I am obsessed with dressing up. Every time I clean my room it just turns into a big dress up party. And we basically just wanted to have as much fun making the video as we did making the song.

I love that. It does look like it was a lot of fun.

Caleb: It was the hottest day ever. It was 118 degrees that day in Burbank.

Georgia: I'm so glad that we chose to do the video in a studio, wow.

And then one of the other songs on the album, "Too Proud," is the first song Caleb also sings on, which is really cool. And it's such a powerful song. Caleb, what did it feel like for you to offer your voice, literally, to that track?

Caleb: I guess writing "Too Proud" and performing it is something that I had never done before. Singing in front of people scares, you know—can I say sh*t? Living sh*t out of me! And it took me quite a while to even figure out how I was gonna even do that on stage, to be honest.

Georgia: You did it on TV and everything though!

Caleb: It was the first time I sang in front of anybody was on national television.

Georgia: I was so scared for him, I was just trying to walk around and be like, "Keep his energy good everybody. He's about to sing for the first time!" [Laughs.]

Caleb: During the performance, my arms went completely numb and it was slowly going up my arms. And so I was singing and at the same time I was thinking, "You better not pass out on live television." I took my hand off the mic stand for one second and it went like this. [Shakes hand.] I had to put it back on the mic stand.

Georgia: It's scary! It's scary singing on TV.

Caleb: I guess, yeah, writing that song, there's a large stigma around men and mental health and that, you know, you gotta be tough and keep your feelings in. But it's actually really relieving to let out feelings and talk about them and, I guess, just trying to encourage that with more men and—

Georgia: People.

Caleb: —especially men, but everybody. Therapy's pretty awesome. [Chuckles.]

Growing up in New Zealand, it sounds like you guys had a pretty musical upbringing at home. When did you first start making music and then when did it maybe shift to, "Okay, I think I wanna be a musician"?

Georgia: I think music has just been the focal point of our lives, since day one really. Our parents have always, you know, made it such a huge part of—

Caleb: Just day-to-day life.

Georgia: Yeah, day-to-day life, like connecting with other people and just literally something to do if we needed something to do.

Caleb: It was entertainment for us, really. It was just instruments everywhere.

Georgia: We'd just get pushed up in front of, like, the piano.

Caleb: And we weren't allowed to watch any TV shows basically, just because they were like, "Well you can do something better with your time. Go play guitar or sing or something."

Georgia: Thanks mom and dad. [Laughs.] And we started writing music pretty young too. I think I started trying to write music after my dad told me, about my favorite singer, "You know, she writes all of her own music. You can do that too!" And I was like, "Oh, okay!" I just went into my room and started writing songs. I was, like 10 and then I didn't really get good until I was about 16, 17 and had something to sing about. I guess for us, we didn't really have a choice really. We've just always done music and always had music be the main event everywhere we go. Every relationship that we've had that's lasted has been brought together with music. And I think for us it's just such a necessity for our own survival and sanity. To be in a career now that we get to do this and share our music specifically with people is pretty amazing.

Were your parents also musicians or where did that influence come from them?

Caleb: I don't know. Our parents were musicians in a hobby way, not professionally.

Georgia: Yeah, mom taught me to play the guitar though.

Caleb: She didn't teach me. I had many guitar teachers but I only had a couple lessons with each one because I couldn't really handle it. I ended up teaching myself. I wasn't very good with direction as a child.

Georgia: Just a little bit too all over the place.

Georgia: But yeah, our parents sang a lot. They'd sing at weddings and church and my mom ran the choir at our elementary school.

Caleb: Which I was very upset about because she made me stay in it. Georgia wanted to be in it, didn't you?

Georgia: Well, she'd do this thing, where she goes—

Caleb: It was at recess, so you had to go and sing at choir during your break time.

Georgia: I kind of just wanted to play.

Caleb: I just wanted to kick balls around.

Georgia: My mom, wow, she'd do this thing. Every time I tried to quit the choir she'd be like, "Oh I thought you wanted to be a singer..." And I was like, "I do! I do want to be a singer, mum!" And she's like, "Well, you gotta take every opportunity then."

Caleb: I said, "Mom I don't want to be a singer. Why do I have to be here?"

Georgia: Well look at you now! I think our parents were huge in making us actually stick to all these comments about wanting to pursue music. They saw how much it was a part of us and I think they never forced it but they did tell us, "If you want to do it, then you're gonna have to work really, really hard and have to have really thick skin. And you're gonna have to be able to deal with disappointment and discipline." So I think that was really important.

Caleb: And I still can't handle any of those things.

Georgia: It's really hard. But it's also really worth it.

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What was each of yours first CD and first concert you attended? Your early musical loves.

Caleb: I think we got cassette tapes, didn't we?

Georgia: Yeah we got cassette tapes. You got Robbie Williams, I got the Vengaboys.

Caleb: No I got Ricky Martin, "Livin' La Vida Loca."

Georgia: And the first CD I ever bought myself was the single "Lucky" by Britney Spears.

Caleb: Mine was Bob Marley: Greatest Hits, the gold album.

Georgia: Yeah, that's definitely had more spins than the Britney Spears. Sorry Britney.

Caleb: "Toxic" though, many spins.

If you could perform with any artist dead or alive, who would it be?

Georgia: Probably Bob Marley. I don't think I'd want to perform with him though, I'd just want to watch him. I think that still makes me pretty sad sometimes when I know that I'm never gonna see him live. I just feel like it would complete me as a person.

Caleb: Yeah. I'd have to almost agree fully on that one. I think there were a couple years where I strictly listen to Bob and pretty much nobody else.

Georgia: Which meant that I strictly would listen to Bob.

Caleb: So I think that's where it came from. My big brother introduced me to Bob Marley when I was 13 and that was the end of it.

Georgia: I'm surprised that we're not a reggae band!

Caleb: Yeah. I feel like I'd want to see Blondie. Done. Like a king.

Georgia: You'd want to perform with Blondie? I'd want to perform with Blondie.

Caleb: Yeah I feel like that would be so fun.

Georgia: I feel like we'd be great together. Me and Debs. I kind of look like Debs in this sexy tank. Have you seen that picture of Debs in the sexy tank? It's a good one!

I love it. So we're gonna resurrect Bob Marley and see him perform. You'll open with Blondie for Bob Marley?

Georgia: We'll open with Debs. Yep.

Caleb: At Red Rocks.

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As a founding member of the National Recording Preservation Board, the Recording Academy was instrumental in lobbying and getting the board created by Congress. Now, the Library of Congress has added new treasures to the National Recording Registry, preserving masterpieces that have shaped American culture.

The 2024 class not only celebrates modern icons like Green Day’s punk classic Dookie and Biggie Smalls' seminal Ready to Die, but also honors vintage gems like Gene Autry’s "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and Perry Como’s hits from 1957. These recordings join over 650 titles that constitute the registry — a curated collection housed within the Library’s vast archive of nearly 4 million sound recordings. 

Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden announced these additions as essential pieces of our nation’s audio legacy, each selected for their cultural, historical, or aesthetic importance. This selection process is influenced by public nominations, which hit a record number this year, emphasizing the public's role in preserving audio history.

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"The Library of Congress is proud to preserve the sounds of American history and our diverse culture through the National Recording Registry," Hayden said. "We have selected audio treasures worthy of preservation with our partners this year, including a wide range of music from the past 100 years, as well as comedy. We were thrilled to receive a record number of public nominations, and we welcome the public’s input on what we should preserve next."

The latest selections named to the registry span from 1919 to 1998 and range from the recordings of the all-Black 369th U.S. Infantry Band led by James Reese Europe after World War I, to defining sounds of jazz and bluegrass, and iconic recordings from pop, dance, country, rock, rap, Latin and classical music.

"For the past 21 years the National Recording Preservation Board has provided musical expertise, historical perspective and deep knowledge of recorded sound to assist the Librarian in choosing landmark recordings to be inducted into the Library’s National Recording Registry," said Robbin Ahrold, Chair of the National Recording Preservation Board. "The board again this year is pleased to join the Librarian in highlighting influential works in our diverse sound heritage, as well as helping to spread the word on the National Recording Registry through their own social media and streaming media Campaigns."

Tune in to NPR's "1A" for "The Sounds of America" series, featuring interviews with Hayden and selected artists, to hear stories behind this year’s picks. Stay connected to the conversation about the registry via social media and listen to many of the recordings on your favorite streaming service.

For more details on the National Recording Registry and to explore more about the selections, visit The Library of Congress's official National Recording Registry page.

National Recording Registry, 2024 Selections (chronological order)

1. "Clarinet Marmalade" – Lt. James Reese Europe’s 369th U.S. Infantry Band (1919)

2. "Kauhavan Polkka" – Viola Turpeinen and John Rosendahl (1928)

3. Wisconsin Folksong Collection (1937-1946)

4. "Rose Room" – Benny Goodman Sextet with Charlie Christian (1939)

5. "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" – Gene Autry (1949)

6. "Tennessee Waltz" – Patti Page (1950)

7. "Rocket ‘88’" – Jackie Brenston and His Delta Cats (1951)

8. "Catch a Falling Star" / "Magic Moments" – Perry Como (1957)

9. "Chances Are" – Johnny Mathis (1957)

10. "The Sidewinder" – Lee Morgan (1964)

11. "Surrealistic Pillow" – Jefferson Airplane (1967)

12. "Ain’t No Sunshine" – Bill Withers (1971)

13. "This is a Recording" – Lily Tomlin (1971)

14. "J.D. Crowe & the New South" – J.D. Crowe & the New South (1975)

15. "Arrival" – ABBA (1976)

16. "El Cantante" – Héctor Lavoe (1978)

17. "The Cars" – The Cars (1978)

18. "Parallel Lines" – Blondie (1978)

19. "La-Di-Da-Di" – Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick (MC Ricky D) (1985)

20. "Don’t Worry, Be Happy" – Bobby McFerrin (1988)

21. "Amor Eterno" – Juan Gabriel (1990)

22. "Pieces of Africa" – Kronos Quartet (1992)

23. Dookie – Green Day (1994)

24. Ready to Die – The Notorious B.I.G. (1994)

25. "Wide Open Spaces" – The Chicks (1998)

21 Albums Turning 50 In 2024: 'Diamond Dogs,' 'Jolene,' 'Natty Dread' & More

In the late '90s, a time when synthesized dancehall riddims dominated Jamaica’s airwaves, Rastafarian sibling band Morgan Heritage remained steadfast in their dedication to roots reggae. Their passion would resonate internationally via 1999's Don’t Haffi Dread, an album that brought renewed vitality and youthful enthusiasm to roots reggae. 

Released via New York label VP Records on March 23, 1999, Don’t Haffi Dread was a personal and professional advancement for Morgan Heritage, earning the band widespread accolades and a designation as reggae’s future. Filled with rebel statements, spiritually empowering sentiments and R&B-infused lover’s rock, Don’t Haffi Dread is perhaps remembered most for its title track. The song's catchy and somewhat contentious lyric, "yuh don’t haffi dread to be rasta," asserted that listeners don't have to wear dreadlocks to embrace Rastafari’s teachings. 

Decades later, the song remains one of the most popular in the group’s expansive catalog. "That was the first time a Rastafarian said something like that on record," the group’s lead singer Peetah Morgan told me at the time of Don’t Haffi Dread’s release, in an interview for Air Jamaica’s SkyWritings Magazine. "It caused a lot of controversy and got us a lot of attention, even in places we had never performed."

Although it was the band’s fourth album, Don’t Haffi Dread  was the first time they recorded playing their instruments live in the studio. This was a remarkable achievement, Peetah explained, "because it was done at a time when we were told live recording would never come back to Jamaica." 

Peetah’s vocal dynamism led the band’s many heartfelt appeals for unity as persuasively as his paeans to Jah can stir the souls of the most hardened non-believers. He died at age 50 on Feb. 25. 

"The journey has been a blessing. May God continue to keep our brother Peetah," says keyboardist and vocalist Una Morgan. "Our dad used to compare us to a body with two hands, two feet and Peetah was our head; to be celebrating this album in Peetah’s honor is the greatest feeling ever."

In their first interview since Peetah's passing, members of Morgan Heritage reflected on the 25th anniversary of their breakthrough album. "Recording Don’t Haffi Dread…we honed our craft and became a force to be looked at; now we are called icons, legends," Una continues. 

Don’t Haffi Dread established Morgan Heritage as one reggae’s most popular acts and one the very few self-contained bands to emerge from Jamaica in the 1990s. "Everything opened up for Morgan Heritage with the release of Don’t Haffi Dread," comments Cristy Barber, former Head of A&R, VP Records. "They were featured on a segment on 'CBS Sunday Morning' with their father; they played a private party for Johnny Cash, performed before an audience of millions on the televised Special Olympics and became the first reggae band on the Vans Warped Tour."

Morgan Heritage are five of the 30 children of the late Jamaican singer Denroy Morgan, whose 1981 hit "I’ll Do Anything For You" reached the Top 10 on Billboard’s Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart. Siblings Memmalatel "Mr. Mojo" (percussion, vocals), Nakhamyah "Lukes" (guitar), Roy "Gramps," (vocals, keyboards), and the band’s sole female member Una, and Peetah were raised in Rastafarian households. They lived in Springfield, Massachusetts, where they attended school, and spent weekends in Brooklyn, immersed in music studies.

In 1992, Morgan Heritage was an eight member aggregation that included older siblings David, Denroy Jr. and Jeffrey. Immediately following their debut performance at Jamaica’s now defunct Reggae Sunsplash festival, they were signed to MCA Records and released one album, 1994's pop-reggae leaning Miracle. Displeased with the label’s lack of support, the Morgans chose not to record a second album for the company. With their increasing personal responsibilities, including caring for their young children, David, Denroy Jr., and Jeffreyleft the group. 

However, it was papa Denroy’s decision to return to his Jamaica birthplace in 1995 that put Morgan Heritage on their path to success. Morgan Heritage’s remaining five members, now in their early to mid 20s, followed their dad to Jamaica. The band spent over a year alternating between morning recording sessions with producer Lloyd "King Jammy" James and afternoons with producer Robert "Bobby Digital" Dixon. The band wrote songs and recorded their vocals over pre-made riddims (rhythm tracks), a standard practice in Jamaican music making. Their diligence yielded two albums: the Digital-produced Protect Us Jah and One Calling, produced by Jammy.

The band returned to Bobby Digital (whose extensive production resume includes landmark albums by Sizzla, the late Garnet Silk and multiple hit singles by Shabba Ranks) to produce Don’t Haffi Dread. This time, they played their own instruments alongside other musicians live on the album’s recording sessions.

"The riddim thing is part of Jamaican culture but with Don’t Haffi Dread, our father pulled the reins and said, that’s not how the greats do it," Gramps explains, adding, with a Jamaican inflection, "yuh don’t hear Michael Jackson say to Quincy Jones, 'Let mi vibe something on di riddim!' 

"Our father always said, you have to do this at the highest level because you have great potential," Gramps continues. "Bobby trusted the process and gave us artistic freedom so Don’t Haffi Dread was a turning point: We got out our guitars, wrote songs, brought them to the studio and played/recorded them live."

Written by Gramps and Peetah, "Don’t Haffi Dread" utilizes shimmering guitar riffs that underscore the melodic sing-along chorus delivered by Peetah with innate emotional conviction and precocious wisdom that made it a 21st century reggae anthem. There are two versions of "Don’t Haffi Dread" on the album, including an exquisite acoustic guitar rendition that closes the set. 

"We wrote that song in Brooklyn, it was our truth growing up in the Twelve Tribes of Israel branch of Rastafari (Bob Marley was a member), which was about bringing together Jah’s children from afar," explains Gramps. "We saw white Rastas, Asian Rastas, Rastas in New Zealand, Australia and Mexico. We knew it wasn’t about growing dreadlocks, wearing an Emperor Halie Selassie I button or even dietary laws. It was about how we lived, the love in our hearts. By sharing our truth, many people realized they didn’t have to wear dreadlocks to identify with the messages of Rastafari."

The Rastafari way of life originated in Jamaica in the 1930s, following the crowning of Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie I, whom Rastas recognize as the Messiah. Many early Rasta adherents wearing dreadlocks faced continuous persecution, their locks forcibly shorn, their housing settlements demolished while others were killed by authorities just for their way of life. Some listeners perceived "Don’t Haffi Dread" as insensitive to that suffering.

"The division, the uproar that took place…provided clarity like nothing else in our life," shares Mojo. "Seeing the impact of our music on a global scale, the effect it had on human lives was an epiphany; we realized that we’re here for more than just a good time and that gave us a sense of purpose. We started to understand the assignment before that term came about. The conviction and messages heard throughout our music is because of our experiences with Don’t Haffi Dread."

Rasta anthems and socially conscious statements abound on Don’t Haffi Dread. The rousing "Earthquake," is a "chant down Babylon" style tribute to Rasta elders; "Ready to Work" offers a clarion call to rise up, unify and change the world. The acoustic guitar-driven plea on "Freedom," a powerful missive that parallels the most effective songs that soundtracked the civil rights movement, features Gramps’ robust baritone, Mojo’s rapped rhymes and Una’s graceful harmonies, each complementing Peetah’s stunning vibrato rendering. 

Bobby Digital’s burnished production utilizes a few premade riddims. A bubbling interpolation of the musical backing to Bob Marley’s "Bend Down Low" undergirds "Reggae Bring Back Love," an engaging celebration of the genre's positive vibrations, highlighted by Peetah’s exuberant vocals. While not originally intended for Don’t Haffi Dread, "Reggae Bring Back Love" became one of its biggest hits, as Gramps recollects. 

"Bobby gave us a cassette of the riddim as we were leaving the studio. We got in the car, pushed in the cassette and just before we pulled off, Peetah started singing ‘reggae bring back love’ over the riddim. We went back inside and recorded the song in less than 10 minutes," he recalls. "Bobby was so excited," adds Una, "he said, ‘dis is why mi love dat group yah.’"

With the release of Don’t Haffi Dread, Morgan Heritage became — and has remained — one of reggae’s busiest touring outfits, taking their impassioned, spell-binding performances around the world, fronted by Peetah Morgan’s charismatic voice. Peetah’s passing is the profound loss of a gifted, generation-defining singer and a beloved brother whose spirit will inform his siblings’ future plans. 

"When Lukes and Una came off the road (in 2015 and 2017, respectively) Peetah, Mojo and I carried it," Gramps muses. "Now Peetah is gone. We’re still grieving but we know Peetah would have kicked us in our butts and said, ‘gwaan and do Jah work,’ so, the legacy must continue."

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"We don't get the applause. That's later."

That was an offhand comment from Sarah Jensen, the Senior Executive Director for the Recording Academy's Midwest Chapter — ahead of a conversation between Cheryl Pawelski and Jeff Tweedy. But given the nature of the ensuing chat, it's oddly apropos.

On the occasion of the 20th anniversary of Wilco's seminal Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, four-time GRAMMY winners Tweedy and Pawelski chatted before a hometown audience at the Rhapsody Theater in Chicago. Pawelski produced and curated Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (20th Anniversary Super Deluxe Edition), which won Best Historical Album at the 2024 GRAMMYs; Pawelski accepted the golden gramophone on their behalf.

Today, 2002's ambitious, deconstructionist Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is just about universally revered as a watershed for alternative music. But in a David-and-Goliath story told and retold since its release — especially in the documentary I Am Trying to Break Your Heart, Yankee was rejected by its label, Reprise.

Wilco left their label, published Yankee on their own website, and it became a tremendous hit. Nonesuch — which, like Reprise, operates through Warner Records — picked them up, meaning the same record company, in effect, paid Wilco twice.

Ever since, the applause for Yankee Hotel Foxtrot — the one with the immortal "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," "Jesus, Etc." and "Ashes of American Flags" on it — has been unceasing. And, naturally, a hefty chunk of Pawelski and Tweedy's conversation — for the Recording Academy's "Up Close & Personal" interview series, and MCed by Chicagoan family music artist Justin Roberts — revolved around it.

According to Tweedy, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was a pivot point, where they decided to move away from any sort of pastiche.

"There are a lot of things on the boxed set," he said — referring to the plethora of alternate versions of well-known tracks — "where I would listen to them now and go, 'That was good enough.' But it wasn't satisfying… Rock and roll was built on that thing, above all else… be yourself, without any apology, and on purpose."

The "Up Close & Personal" session didn't start with Yankee, though; it started with How to Write One Song, Tweedy's 2020 treatise on the process of… well, writing one song. Which gets as psychologically and spiritually incisive as Tweedy fans would expect.

"I think music in general is a safe place to fail," the prolific songwriter stated. "When you take your ego out of it and you look at it as a daily practice of spending time with yourself in your imagination… once you do it for a long time, it really makes the notion of failure almost quaint or something."

When it comes to songwriting, the 11-time nominee said "nothing's really ever lost. You learn something about yourself writing terrible songs. I know myself better because of the songs that you've never heard."

Tweedy offered other helpful concepts and strategies, like accumulating enough voice memo ideas — for so long — that you can treat them like the work of a stranger. "I'll go through and listen through a bunch of stuff like that," Tweedy quipped, "and go, 'Who wrote this?'"

Pawelski went on to elucidate her rich legacy in the music business — including her fight to get the Band's deep cuts, like Stage Fright, included in Capitol's music budget. (She's worked on archival projects by everyone from the Beach Boys to Big Star to Willie Nelson across her decades-long career.)

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Tweedy also discussed the magic of collaboration. "I've gotten really good at being alone with people. So I think that facilitates collaboration to some degree," he said. "What I mean is being as forgiving of myself with other people in the room as I am with myself alone."

What was one of his favorites, Roberts inquired?

"The one that probably will always be the most proud of is getting to work with Mavis Staples and contributing something to her catalog, to her body of work that seems to have resonated not just with her audience or a new audience, but with her that she likes to sing, that means something to her. I think that would've satisfied me without it winning a GRAMMY [in 2011]."

When the conversation drifted to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Pawelsky discussed the foreboding process of digging through the sessions' flotsam and jetsam.

"The world kind of changed during the making of this. The band certainly changed, and also, technology changed," she explained. "So we had everything — we had DATs, we had ADATs, we had tape, we had cassettes, we had CD-Rs."

About her process: "I go backwards and try to reconstruct how things happen, and it's always incomplete and I don't know what I'm missing, so it's extra fun. But this particular record was done and undone in a lot of ways… some of the latter recordings sound like they're earlier recordings."

As Pawelski admits, the prospect of stewarding Yankee was "kind of terrifying" because of how meaningful the record is. "It really was a Rubik's cube. I would get the orange side done and I'd turn it over."

As the talk wound down, the subject of Wilco's latest album, Cousin, came up — as well as Wilco's rare use of an outside producer, in Cate Le Bon.

"I thought that it would be really a catalyst for getting something different out of the songs that I write," Tweedy explained. "I like the idea of working with a woman, which I felt like has not happened that much in rock and roll, from my perspective

"So that felt like an inspired bit of lateral thinking," he continued. "that felt so right to me to get to — and that she wanted to do it, and that we were friends, and it did."

To go "Up Close & Personal" with Tweedy is unlike most interviews; his brain simply works different than most, and you walk away pleasantly scrambled and transformed.

Which is what the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot sessions were like — and thank goodness for Pawelski, who shows it's not merely a masterpiece: in all its alien transmissions, vulnerable one-liners and shattered poetry, Yankee continues to engender GRAMMY glory.

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"We felt there was no exit from Blondie," Clem Burke, long-standing drummer of Blondie, said in 1999. 

Burke was speaking on the occasion of Blondie's new record, aptly titled No Exit. At the time, the band had reunited after a 15-year absence and, according to Burke, "reared its head again, a four-headed monster." 

Although Burke jested about being unable to shake the pull of the band, No Exit was an edgy, eclectic and innovative record that pulled Blondie back from the brink of history and into a new millennium. The 17-track album saw the band restart their musical mission, delivering genre-blending punk music that brought experimental sounds to the mainstream while also parodying Americana. The reckless abandon shown with No Exit — from music genres to public image — proved a direct through-line to their peak new wave output.

No Exit was certainly a long time coming. The idea of a "reunion" for the famed band was never in the cards; even the idea of a greatest hits record was a no-go.After the release of 1982’s The Hunter — an album that fared poorly with critics and achieved little impact on the charts — the group chose to disband. Co-founder Chris Stein was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease and took time away from music; lead singer Debbie Harry began caring for partner Stein while also pursuing a solo music career and acting opportunities (including John Waters’ Hairspray); Burke went on to play drums for the likes of the Romantics and Iggy Pop; keyboardist Jimmy Destri began producing music for Prince and INXS. 

A true reunion had to involve new music and a relaunch too. Stein recalled watching Jerry Maguire for the first time while recording No Exit in 1998. "I got all teary-eyed because the movie’s all about getting a second chance," he told the L.A. Times. "And that’s what this is about, you know? We’re getting a second chance."

Released on Feb. 23, 1999, No Exit was an energetic and eclectic mix of classic Blondie genres — pop and rock, reggae and rap — that pitched the band to a generation. No Exit eased the band back into a musical landscape dominated by rhythmic hip-hop tracks, velvet R&B anthems and thumping heavy metal.

Audiences at the dawn of the new millennium were already enjoying the success of other girl-fronted rock ensembles; groups like No Doubt, Garbage, and the Cranberries owed Blondie and Harry some credit for trailblazing. (Even if being a female-fronted band became a thorn in Blondie’s side, as seen by their 1978 "campaign" to correct the record with "Blondie is a group!" buttons.) 

Now returning to the charts with such peers, Blondie signaled to the world their assignment was never over — even aging rockers could challenge music conventions and be punk again. Harry was center stage once more, reviving the band’s famed part-parody and part-femme fatale blond bombshell image for a new audience (and Blondie diehards). 

Lead track "Maria" — a spirited song about romantic desire that also plays on religious idol worship — wasn’t quite classic Blondie but a sweet pop treat  The song 

hit No. 1 on the U.K. charts and also topped charts in Spain and Poland. Blondie were officially back in action, but their status left Stein a bit uneasy. "Now we were on the receiving end of a lot of accolades. At times it felt odd being hit with all the ‘legendary’ labels," Stein writes in his upcoming memoir, Under a Rock.

But it was no small feat to get Blondie back together. When they disbanded in 1982, they acknowledged that it was a "madhouse," with endless fighting and arguments all while Stein began to deteriorate from his chronic illness. While the band had sold more than 40 million albums in their decade-plus together and cemented themselves in the cultural lexicon, a new question emerged: Would their formerly edgy and eclectic sound resonate again?

Part of the band’s advantage in 1999 was also their original musical hallmark: a lack of a loyalty to any singular genre. 

No Exit embraced Blondie’s classic musical eclecticism — a quality that saw some critics deride the record. An "album of hollow new-wave, ska, and rap retreads," Entertainment Weekly opined while Rolling Stone argued it "indulge[d] in the kind of dilettantish genre dabbling that preceded their 1982 demise." But Blondie’s uniqueness was always that their music output resisted easy classification; it wouldn’t be Blondie without any genre experimentation. 

While looking back was important for the band when recording No Exit, it was also key to finding ways to appeal to a new generation of listeners. "We’re part of the future as well as the past," Harry said in 1999. "One of the stipulations I had was that it not be just a revue of Blondie’s greatest hits. I really felt convinced of and dedicated to the idea that we had to move ahead and do new music." That also extended to playfully redoing tracks they had originally recorded in the 1970s, including the Sangri-Las’ "Out in the Street."

Other songs on No Exit showed a playful and wry tenor, as the four original members were seemingly having fun reconnecting with each other. "Forgive and Forget (Pull Down the Night)" is a smooth and synthy dance track that recalls the Pet Shop Boys and gestures at forgiving past transgressions. Blondie cosplays as a country ensemble on "The Dream’s Lost on Me" with a structured and rhythmic country ballad that elevates Harry’s vocals. "Screaming Skin" takes their past reggae influences  and recasts them in a rapid-fire rock song about breaking the betrayal of one’s body (likely a reference to Stein’s pemphigus condition attacking his skin).

Touring No Exit also fermented worries about Blondie’s legacy. "I don’t wanna appear preposterous on stage," Harry said at the time. In an attempt to defy such expectations, Blondie chose to perform the album’s hip-hop influenced title track during the American Music Awards, even bringing Coolio onstage.

The performance was true Blondie, which had long collaborated with artists of other genres to appeal to new audiences (their "Rapture" featuring Fab Five Freddy being case in point). "I was pleased with the mixed reaction," Stein said after the AMAs. "I’d much rather have us do something controversial than safe."

Today, "No Exit" might sound like a jarring marriage between classical music — with its use of Bach’s "Toccata and Fugue in D minor" — and thumping modern rap, but it isn’t a serious sonic exercise. Blondie instead impishly reminds us of the endless loop ("no exit") of their past music and the music industry, as their famed tunes might as well be as dated as those of the baroque era. The band goes philosophical with the reboot — even nodding to Jean-Paul Sartre’s bleak existential play No Exit — but conversely finds freedom adopting this adage. 

The 1999 regrouping netted Blondie chart success, new fandom, and a world tour. Yet it also brought up some personal problems. In Under a Rock, Stein admitted he was trying to gradually decrease his use of methadone, but touring demands made recovery difficult.

Still, Blondie’s return helped galvanize their popular image as enduring punk and new wave pioneers. (It might not be surprising that no Blondie album since has charted as high as No Exit at No. 18 in the U.S. and No. 3 in the U.K.) The band hasn’t pumped the brakes either, riding the renewed popularity for decades since with new music and tours of the world over.

But No Exit offered audiences something that their four following albums haven't achieved: a cutting and experimental sound that also acknowledged the artifice of the pop rock music they were making. Even recent successes like 2017’s Pollinator sounded fun and youthful, but were a largely series of songs written or co-written by other artists that aimed to appease current pop music tastes. 

The album title might sound suffocating or even nihilistic, but to Blondie No Exit was a belated self-acceptance. "I mean, there is no exit," Harry commented to journalist Michael Hill in 2013. "You work so hard to establish something, and then that’s it, there you are." 

Twenty-five years on, Blondie showed a dawning new millennium who they were: A punk band who embraced sounds with abandon while celebrating the fantasy of being dissent rock stars. Like reading a sign "last exit before freeway," Blondie saw No Exit as a moment to hit the gas and drive straight on through.    

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