Society has made major strides in its inclusivity of people with disabilities, but it still has a long way to go. And that certainly applies to the worldwide music community — represented in part by the Recording Academy.

Disability Pride Month is observed every July; it's as good a time as ever to meditate on how disability is something most of us will experience in our lives, and that discrimination or exclusion on that basis is intolerable. 

To counteract these forces, let's use Disability Pride Month to uphold the experiences of those who live on the spectrum of disability. It's incumbent on the world's leading society of music people to shine a light on those in the music world who are part of this global community.

Let's turn positive thoughts into practical action. Here are five organizations that support music creatives with disabilities.

RAMPD

RAMPD — which stands for Recording Artists And Music Professionals With Disabilities — aims to "amplify disability culture, promote equitable inclusion and advocate for accessibility in the music industry."

The organization was founded by recording artist and accessibility advocate Lachi, who's been vocal about her journey from "low vision to no vision," and celebrating blindness through music and other avenues.

"When we celebrate hip-hop, we celebrate 50 proud years of unbreakable spirit, despite existing in a system built for otherwise," Lachi says. Hip-hop artists with disabilities and mental health conditions create from a place of innovation and drive, navigating success in a world not quite built for their success. It's up to us in the industry to support and propel those creators most impacted, most underrepresented, and most intersected, as they have the richest, most untapped, untold stories of resilience."

Visit RAMPD's website for more information.

Krip Hop Nation

Krip Hop Nation is a worldwide society of artists with disabilities that's been going strong for 16 years, and aims to provide equal opportunities in the music industry to those with disabilities.

"The focus is on people with their skills and abilities, not their disabilities," their website declares. "We do not want pity, we want consideration, equality, respect and recognition to the same extent that every physically and mentally healthy person enjoys them."

Krip Hop Nation was founded by writer, poet and activist Leroy F. Moore Jr., who was diagnosed with cerebral palsy.

"Disability justice was started by Black and brown disabled folks," Moore says, "but there’s a need to rebirth it with Black and brown Krip theory and everyday experiences in the arts, music. activism, writing and thinking."

Check out their website to get the scoop.

SoulTouchin' Experiences

Across a range of industries and spheres, SoulTouchin' Experiences aims to fortify people with disabilities' senses of autonomy and accessibility.

As the organization puts it, they have "a heart a soul commitment to those who need assistance to begin caring for themselves and in turn caring for others."

SoulTouchin' Experiences is dedicated to the issues of "access inclusion and empowerment" in all regards.

"The hustle ain’t accessible. So we hustle different," founder Keith Jones says. "We are not a fully realized movement until we are an inclusive movement."

If you share this cause, you can support them directly — and learn more about their mission — at their website.

Sins Invalid

Sins Invalid declare themselves to be a "disability justice based performance project that incubates and celebrates artists with disabilities." 

And intersectionality is the name of the game, as they're focused on "centralizing artists of color and LGBTQ / gender-variant artists as communities who have been historically marginalized."

"Disability Justice is an honoring of the long-standing legacies of resilience and resistance," says co-founder Patty Berne, "which are the inheritance of all of us whose bodies or minds will not conform."

They do this by promoting leadership opportunities for disabled people and providing a nurturing space for artists with disabilities to develop and present artistic works. For more information on Sins Invalid, visit here.

4 Wheel City

Here's how they roll: 4 Wheel City is an entertainment organization offering support to people with disabilities of all stripes.

They were founded by Namel "Tapwaterz" Norris and Ricardo "Rickfire" Velasquez — hip-hop artists in wheelchairs due to the tragedy of gun violence.

Rather than let their circumstances subsume them, though, they've opted to give back via programs that connect hip-hop to disability culture.

"To me, hip hop culture and disability culture are interconnected and one in the same. They both come from underserved communities who've had to fight for their respect, for their place in society," Norris says. "However, as we celebrate 50 years of hip hop, the voices and contributions of many disabled hip hop artists continue to go unheard. The goal is to change this so the next 50 years of hip hop includes many more stories and music from disabled artists like myself."

Check out their website here.

With folks like Norris and Velasquez — and everyone else above — in the disability community's corner, the needle of disability justice is pushed ever forward.

"I Made My ADHD Into My Strength": Understanding The Link Between Rap & Neurodivergence

As Disability Pride Month — which takes place every July — draws to a close, it's incumbent on the music community to continue elevating and celebrating music professionals with disabilities of all kinds. Below is a helpful, pragmatic guide to how we can do so — both in music-industry situations and in our everyday lives.

The following is a guest piece by Recording Artists and Music Professionals with Disabilities (RAMPD), a coalition of established creators with disabilities who work to promote equitable inclusion, visibility and accessibility in the music industry.

Having recently worked with the 64th GRAMMYs on a visible stage ramp, sign language on the red carpet, and live captioning and audio description for video content, RAMPD is on a mission to amplify Disability Culture in a massive way.

Read on as RAMPD members share key ways the music industry can support creators and creative professionals with disabilities on a year-round basis and in a meaningful manner.

1. Listen To The Disability Community

*Lachi. Photo courtesy of RAMPD.*

Lachi (Founder/President, RAMPD):

First ask. Then listen.

With 26 percent of Americans having some form of disability, neurodiversity, chronic illness or communication difference, we are a vast and diverse community full of rich, untold stories and deeply moving and impactful experiences, yet are untapped by popular culture. 

The disability community has strong perspectives on how we wish to be viewed and portrayed, but seldom have the opportunity to voice them. Thus many decisions are made about us without us and are often harmful to the community.

When planning design, programming, recruitment strategies, or anything else — even if it has nothing to do with disability — a disabled person tapped into the community must be in the room.

"But Lachi," you might say, "I don't know anyone in the music industry with a disability." Here at RAMPD, we provide resources where folks can find, source or hire top disabled talent and professionals who are knowledgeable, approachable, and present to affect growth.

*Wawa Snipe. Photo courtesy of RAMPD.*

Aoede (RAMPD, Events Co-Chair):

Encourage promoters, agents and venues to listen to artists and musicians with disabilities regarding their needs.

More than two thirds of disabled artists don't disclose due to stigmas, and report risking their health to perform. One way to remove fear of artists disclosing their disabilities is to respect an artist with disabilities' rider.

DJ Pastor Rock (RAMPD, Partnerships):

It all starts with awareness; paying attention to who is and, more importantly, who isn't there. Awareness is an important entry point for building relationships with people too often excluded.

2. Recognize Disability As A Natural And Cultural Form Of Diversity

RAMPD Community:

Disability culture is a celebration of people who identify as disabled, while acknowledging the vast diversity of the disability experience and each person's inherent and equal worth.

It is unapologetic, creative, innovative, adaptable, imaginative, and rooted in problem-solving.

It is based on the premise that disability needs to be seen, respected, included and celebrated. It includes our worldviews, our perspectives, our contributions, our art, our words, and our music.

Disability culture — at least in part — is a vibrant and thriving counter-response to the exclusion, marginalization and oppression historically and currently experienced by many disabled individuals.

*Namel Norris. Photo: Joe Papeo, 2022 Danny Awards*

Namel Norris (RAMPD, Partnerships):

One of the biggest ways the music industry can be more disability-inclusive is by getting more involved in our culture and the amazing art, performances and musical contributions we already have going on.

Zak Sandler (RAMPD, Pro Member):

We need to create an environment where disability is not hidden out of shame, but rather, celebrated out of pride. Record companies and agents must actively seek out disabled artists and ensure we represent a consistent percentage of their clients.

*Shelby Lock. Photo courtesy of Shelby Lock.*

Shelby Lock (RAMPD, Pro Member):

Evaluate people based on their skills and work ethic rather than their health status. There can be a culture of working non-stop in the music industry — especially in the studio world. Don't write us off, and we'll prove with our results that we deserve to be here too.

Leroy Moore Jr (RAMPD, Pro Member):

Let's also admit to the -isms that have locked out artists who become disabled/deaf during their career in the music industry.

***Stephen Letnes. Photo courtesy of RAMPD.***

Stephen Letnes (RAMPD, Treasurer):

Music affects and reflects what we value. Disability culture is not something new; it has always been here. The music industry can and should amplify such a powerful yet neglected part of our culture.

3. Intentional Visibility And Representation From The Stage To The Boardroom

Precious Perez (RAMPD, Memberships Chair):

Disability representation on screen is crucial. There is so much power in looking at the media and seeing yourself and your community represented.

Disability is the one diversity left out of every diversity conversation. The one minority that is not acknowledged. So many people do not understand disability — and moreover, do not see or experience disabled artists on an equal playing field.

It is for this reason that highlighting and booking disabled performers for prominent visibility opportunities is not only empowering, but deeply impactful for the general public and the industry as a whole.

*Precious Perez. Photo: Alina Nadolu*

Aoede:

Promote and implement accessibility measures at major events such as the following:

Visible ramps to the stage; visible ASL interpreter(s) and self-description; and on-stage and below-the-line representation of artists and professionals with disabilities.

Publicly announcing accessibility measures through press releases, on websites and social media is a highly encouraged way to include the disability community — while getting non-disabled viewers excited or interested in these measures.

Namel Norris:

Invest in the artists who are already making a massive impact purposefully amplifying Disability Culture all over the world.

There are also accomplished entertainment professionals who can sit on your boards to ensure disability is part of the conversation at the board level.

It's not about giving us a handout; it's about giving us a hand up. An equitable fair inclusive seat at the table in the music industry.

*Brandon Kazen-Maddox. Credit: Lincoln Center*

Brandon Kazen-Maddox (ASL Performer):

Incorporate artists from the deaf and signing community to not only translate musical events into ASL, but to work hand-in-hand with musical artists to create accessible work from the ground up.

4. Inclusive Hiring — From Behind-The-Scenes To Contractor To Executive

Andrea Jennings (RAMPD, Secretary):

Let's level the playing field for music executives, music creatives behind the scenes, musicians, and music administrators with disabilities.

We are talented professionals at every level. We are opinion leaders and want to contribute our perspective to society; however, we are often met with accessibility and pay gap barriers.

To achieve success, we need equitable solutions like accessible outreach programs, inclusive employment opportunities, paid on-the-job training, and intentional accommodation support.

Lachi:

Let's create work, event and office environments conducive to disabled people, including the over 70% with non-visible disabilities. The last thing we want is to find out that someone feared self-advocating or requesting work accommodations… in their exit interview!

5. Intentional Event And Venue Accessibility For Artists and Patrons

Aoede:

Hybrid events are a great opportunity for high-visibility events to promote inclusion and accessibility.

As a disabled artist living with chronic illness, I look entirely to virtual events to engage and connect with others in my music community.

These events allow people like me, who are unable to attend physical events (due to health risks, travel or other concerns) access to participate and be included virtually.

*Tracy Marie. Photo courtesy of RAMPD.*

Tracy Marie (RAMPD, Events):

Venues can better implement inclusive practices by simply providing a direct line on their website to a designated staff member who intakes accommodation requests.

That goes for a patron, an artist or even those interested in seeking employment. An open line of communication helps those with accessibility and accommodation needs feel welcomed.

*Gaelynn Lea. Photo: Bartek Buczkowski*

Gaelynn Lea (RAMPD, VP):

A major way the music industry can be more inclusive is by hiring accessibility coordinators on their full-time staff to ensure operations, technology, press, and policies are both inclusive and supportive of disability and that access needs are being met for both employees and customers.

Folks hired for these positions should identify as disabled themselves so that they have a personal relationship with the reality of disability, and so that they can seek input and resources from their own community when faced with an unfamiliar issue.

All too often, access is seen as a secondary concern or a bonus, when it should really be built in from the ground up.

There is a deep pool of disabled talent that could be tapped for this important work. Now, it's up to the music industry to create these positions in their organizations.

Meet Question, A Rapper/Producer Who Doesn't Want To Be Boxed In By Blindness

Grief is 360°, and so are the best albums written about it.

Sorrow-weighted breakthroughs of the past decade, like Sun Kil Moon's Benji and Mount Eerie's A Crow Looked at Me, both grabbed you by the collar and read between the lines. Retro-tinted rockers Shannon and the Clams' new album, The Moon is in the Wrong Place, is no exception.

Out May 10, the band's seventh LP deals with a tragedy in leader Shannon Shaw's life: the loss of her fiancé, Joe Haener, in a freak car accident outside his Aurora, Oregon, family farm. As Shaw picked up the pieces, the songs poured forth — and as bruised as they are, that loss opened vistas of clarity and range in their gritty, mid-century-rock sound.

Take the ascendant highlight "Bean Fields," where Shaw maps Haener's spirit onto the soil he loved. "Gather up, sisters, cousins, and brothers/ Friends, Nan, and Delbert too/ Let's go be where the bugs sing/ And where the pole beans bloom/ We love this land 'cause it's you."

Shaw was concerned about "Bean Fields" being a single. "It's so peppy and joyous and celebratory," she tells GRAMMY.com, with Clams guitarist and vocalist Cody Blanchard in an adjacent Zoom window. "I was afraid of that being a confusing message for people without knowing the rest of the album."

In the end, they made the right call; sometimes harrowing losses, and their attendant life changes, can carry exhilarating headwinds. In short, it's not all doldrums.

And that's why that song — as well as other lush, blooming highlights like "Real or Magic" and "Life is Unfair" — feel right at home on an album borne of sorrow. Read on for an interview with Shaw and Blanchard about the making of the Dan Auerbach-produced album.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

How's the press cycle been, dealing with something this intensely personal?

Shannon Shaw: It's been good. I feel like everyone I've spoken to has been really super respectful and prepared. I think [PR firm] The Oriel did a good job at making sure people that have no idea what this album's about aren't interviewing me. So, that's been a good thing.

It would be weird to talk about anything that doesn't involve grief and loss really, because that's what the album is about. But it's been good. Definitely hard for me, but good.

For a long time after I lost a parent, I resented when people would drag me back into suffering. People would be like, "I'm so sorry," and I'd be like, "I'm chillin', but thank you."

Shaw: Oh, yeah. People have some really bad timing. I think most people are coming from a good place, but yeah, that is weird when fans will try to engage with me about it at really bad times. 

When I'm working and trying to be on, that's when I do not want to go deep. It's hard for me to not go deep, so to just be really surface and thank people for their condolences — I don't want to be surface with it at all. I also do appreciate people trying to be kind, but yeah, there's timing.

What really annoys me is when people want to pretend like it didn't happen. That doesn't happen with any press. More like people purposefully skirting talking about Joe or this experience, or trying to get me to not go there or something. And I know that's also because none of us are trained to talk about grief. It's just so not a part of our culture.

I'm a lot more comfortable really talking about it than pretending my life has been just really f—ing great for the last year and a half. And I love talking about Joe.

Obviously, this traumatic loss was an impetus to make The Moon is in the Wrong Place. But it's not a one-dimensional record, as you're not a one-dimensional person. How did this music start flowing, in any regard?

Shaw: I mean, music started coming to me right away, very soon after [Joe] passed away. And the way that looks is: I'll have either a phrase repeating in my head or a melody, and so I just start singing those little pieces into the recorder on my phone. So I'll have a ton of weird little vocal chunks to sort through later. "Bean Fields" came to me really soon after. Lots of them, really.

"The Vow" is the only one that I had written a lot of before the album. That's the only one, at least on my end, that I'd done before. Because I was going to perform that at our wedding, just that first part.

And I wrote that on guitar, which is unusual for me. I wrote "The Vow" on guitar from chords that Joe taught me, so it was significant in that way.

That song wouldn't exist if it wasn't for Joe, in two ways. If we hadn't had a relationship, that song would never have been written, and if he hadn't taught me a few chords on guitar. He forced me to learn some chords. I was really resistant. But if he hadn't taught me those, I wouldn't have ever written a song on a guitar using chords, probably.

So, that one was just haunting me after I'd already started writing for the album. It was just pissing me off that no one was going to get to hear this semi-collaborative effort from me and Joe, even though Joe never knew it. He never got to hear it.

But yeah, so it happened right away, and I knew that it was going to be all about Joe. I don't know how it couldn't have been.

If someone were to tell me, "I don't think you should write an album like this. That's too sad," or something, I don't think that I could make music ever again. If someone was trying to stop that creative process, I wouldn't even have any interest in writing music, because music is how I process everything.

I'm sure Joe was a kind of co-pilot through this process, even though he's not here anymore.

Shaw: Oh, totally. I feel like I use Joe, and I make a lot of decisions now based on WWJD: what would Joe do? How would Joe feel about this? And I feel like Joe would love anything creative that we're doing to get through this or to learn to live with this.

Blanchard: He also was always pushing people. I mean, not pushing, but quietly encouraging people to make more stuff.

Shaw: Yeah, he was such a good fan. He had so many ideas, always, and was always trying to inspire me about more merch ideas, or, "Why don't you guys do more live karaoke?" Or just always encouraging us to put out more content, because he knew what the people loved. He was very conscious of that stuff.

Was bringing this incredibly raw music to market a strange experience?

Shaw: I was really stressed out about choosing singles because I always think of singles as teasers to represent the whole album, but I believe that in the industry, the way you use singles is different now. They're looking more for things that are going to sell and have a lot of plays because they're really catchy or whatever.

And us musicians, we have to try to keep up with those things because we need to keep this as our job. So, I understand being flexible, but there was this toddler in me that was like, No, I don't want to do it that way. I want songs that are going to be my favorite, most important songs that I feel like represents Joe and this tragedy the most.

But at the same time, I was too scared to use songs that are too intimate. To me, "Real or Magic" — I was really, really resistant to using that song as a single because it's so sad and tender. That's maybe one of the most tender, vulnerable songs I've ever written, and it's about the realest moment I've ever had.

It was the last song I showed the boys because I was so nervous about it, and they really saw a lot of beauty and potential in the song and wanted to make it soar. And then when everyone wanted it as a single, I was just like, "No, it's too sad. It's too intimate. People are going to know everything."

Blanchard: That's what people want, man.

Shaw: Now I'm used to it because I'm building some armor before a tour, but the idea of doing that one every night [was daunting].

People want to hear your singles when you're playing live, and playing that, I was like, "Am I going to be able to play this all the time? How is it going to feel to have people singing that song with us?"

And it turns out it feels good. It's not like people are singing "Real or Magic" and have no idea what it's about. I mean, I'm sure there's lots of people that don't know, but the overall feeling is that people are with us.

Blanchard: I'm conscious of it a lot, because you're playing these songs over and over and you become a little bit numb to them, but they were so intense when we first wrote them. And they're still intense.

We've been doing these weird or silly cover versions of these songs that we're going to start releasing on social media. And we did a version of "Real or Magic" that's ... I don't know, it's not silly, I guess, but it's a totally different vibe.

Humor is a powerful tool amid grief.

Shaw: It's definitely a powerful tool. You're taking a break from the misery, and just letting yourself go, and [allowing yourself] to be free and enjoy [yourself] for a while.

Can you talk about the point where it started to feel like a full-fledged record? Because that's what it is; it's lush and multifaceted. It doesn't feel like a hastily scrawled diary entry.

Shaw: I am glad we were able to get that across. I'm really glad that it doesn't just sound depressed and low all the time. I think it really has an overall positive feeling.

I really feel like the album is kind of like an adventure. I think about Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee going on their adventure, and the album really does a beautiful job at representing the variety or the spectrum of emotions.

I feel really, really proud of that. It's hard to put into words, and I felt it was much easier to put into music.

Marcus King Is Spilling His Guts On Mood Swings — But He's Always Serving The Song

If you were online during the summer of 2022, chances are you’ve heard Pheelz’s viral hit single "Finesse." The swanky Afro-fusion track (featuring fellow Nigerian artist Bnxn) ushered in a world of crossover success for Pheelz, who began his career as a producer for the likes of Omah Lay, Davido, and Fireboy DML.

Born Phillip Kayode Moses, Pheelz’s religious upbringing in Lagos state contributed to his development as a musician. He manned the choir at his father’s church while actively working on his solo music. Those solo efforts garnered praise from his peers and music executives, culminating in Pheelz's debut EP in 2021. Hear Me Out saw Pheelz fully embrace his talent as a vocalist, songwriter, and producer. 

"I feel important, like I’m just molding clay, and I have control over each decision," Pheelz tells GRAMMY.com about creating his own music. 

2022 saw the release of the first two tapes in his Pheelz Good trilogy: Pheelz Good I and Pheelz Good (Triibe Tape), which was almost entirely self-produced. The 29-year-old's consistency has paid off: he produced and sang on Usher’s "Ruin," the lead single from his latest album Coming Home, and also produced the album's title track featuring Burna Boy. But Pheelz isn't only about racking up big-name collaborators; the self-proclaimed African rockstar's forthcoming projects will center on profound vulnerability and interpersonal honesty. First up: Pheelz Good II EP, out May 10, followed by a studio album in late summer.

Both releases will see the multi-hyphenate "being unapologetically myself," Pheelz tells GRAMMY.com. "It will also be me being as vulnerable as I can be. And it’s going to be me embracing my "crayge" [crazy rage]...being myself, and allowing my people to gravitate towards me."

Ahead of his new project, Pheelz spoke with GRAMMY.com about his transition from producer artist, designing all his own 3D cover art, his rockstar aesthetic, and what listeners can expect from Pheelz Good II.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

What sparked your transition from singing in church to realizing your passion for creating music?

For me, it wasn’t really a transition. I just always loved making music so for me I felt like it was just wherever I go to make music, that’s where I wanna be. I would be in church and I was the choirmaster at some point in my life, so I would write songs for Sunday service as well. And then I would go to school as well and write in school, and people heard me and they would love it. And I would want to do more of that as well. 

A friend of my dad played some of my records for the biggest producers in Nigeria back then and took me on as an intern in his studio. I guess that’s the transition from church music into the industry. My brothers and sisters were in the choir, but that came with the job of being the children of the pastor, I guess. None of them really did music like me; I’m the only one who took music as a career and pursued it.

You made a name for yourself as a producer before ever releasing your music, earning Producer Of The Year at Nigeria’s Headies Awards numerous times. What finally pushed you to get into the booth?

I’ve always wanted to get into the booth. The reason why I actually started producing was to produce beats for songs that I had written. I’ve always been in the booth, but always had something holding me back. Like a kind of subconscious feeling over what my childhood has been. I wasn’t really outspoken as a child growing up, so I wouldn’t want people to really hear me and would shy away from the camera in a sense. I think that stuck with me and held me back. 

But then COVID happened and then I caught COVID and I’m like Oh my god and like that [snaps fingers] What I am doing? Why am I not going full steam? Like why do I have all this amazing awesomeness inside of me and no one gets to it because I’m scared of this or that?

There was this phrase that kept ringing in my head: You have to die empty. You can’t leave this earth with all of this gift that God has given you; you have to make sure you empty yourself. And since then, it’s just been back-to-back, which just gave me the courage.  

How did you react to " Finesse" in former President Barack Obama’s annual summer playlist in 2022?

Bro, I reacted crazy but my dad went bananas. [Laughs.] I was really grateful for that moment, but just watching my dad react like that to that experience was the highlight of that moment for me. He's such a fan of Barack Obama and to see that his son’s music is on the playlist, it just made his whole month. Literally. He still talks about it to this day. 

Experiences like that just make me feel very grateful to be here. Life has really been a movie, just watching a movie and just watching God work and being grateful for everything.

At first he [my dad] [didn’t support my career] because every parent wants their child to be a doctor, a lawyer, or an engineer. But when he saw the hunger [I have], and I was stubborn with [wanting] to do music, he just had to let me do it. And now he’s my number one fan. 

Your latest single, "Go Low" arrived just in time for festival season. What was it like exploring the live elements of your art at SXSW and your headlining show in London at the end of April?

I have always wanted to perform live. I’ve always loved performing; Pheelz on stage is the best Pheelz. Coming from church every Sunday, I would perform, lead prayers and worship, so I’ve always wanted to experience that again.

Having to perform live with my band around the world is incredible man. And I’ll forever raise the flag of amazing Afro live music because there’s a difference, you know? [Laughs.] There are so many elements and so many rhythms and so many grooves

I’ve noticed that much of your recent cover art for your singles and EPs is animated or digitally crafted. What’s the significance, if any, of this stylistic choice?

It still goes back to my childhood because I wasn’t expressive as a child; I wouldn’t really talk or say how I felt. I’d rather write about it, write a song about it, write a poem about it, or draw about it. I’d draw this mask and then put how I’m feeling into that character, so if I was angry, the mask would be raging and just angry.

The angry ones were the best ones, so that stuck with me even after I started coming out of my shell and talking and being expressive; that act of drawing a mask still stuck with me. And then I got into 3D, and I made a 3D version of the mask and I made a 3D character of the mask. So I made that the main character, and then I just started making my lyric videos, again post-COVID, and making them [lyric videos] to the characters and making the actual video mine as well.

In the future, I’m gonna get into fashion with the characters, I’m gonna get into animation and cartoons and video games, but I just wanna take it one step at a time with the music first. So, in all of my lyric videos, you get to experience the characters. There’s a fight [scene] among them in one of the lyric videos called "Ewele"; there is the lover boy in the lyric video for "Stand by You"; there are the bad boys in the lyric video for "Balling." They all have their own different characters so hopefully in the near future, I will get to make a feature film with them and just tell their story [and] build a world with them. I make sure I put extra energy into that, make most of them myself so the imprint of my energy is gonna be on it as well because it’s very important to me.

You and Usher have a lengthy working relationship. You first performed together in 2022 at the Global Citizen Festival, then produced/co-wrote "Coming Home" and "Ruin." Take us through the journey of how you two began collaborating.

It started through a meeting with [Epic Records CEO] L.A. Reid; he was telling me about the album that they were working on for Usher and I’m like, "Get me into the studio and lemme see what I can cook up." And they got me into the studio, [with Warner Records A&R] Marc Byers, and I wrote and produced "Coming Home." I already had "Ruin" a year before that. 

["Ruin"] was inspired by a breakup I just went through. Some of the greatest art comes from pain, I guess. That record was gonna be for my album but after I came home I saw how L.A. Reid and Usher reacted and how they loved it. I told them, "I have this other song, and I think you guys would like it for this album." And I played "Ruin," and the rest was history.

Before your upcoming EP, you’ve worked with Pharrell Williams, Kail Uchis, and the Chainsmokers in the studio. What do you consider when selecting potential collaborators?

To be honest, I did not look for these collabs. It was like life just brought them my way, because for me I’m open to any experience. I’m open to life; I do it the best I can at any moment, you understand? 

Having worked with Pharrell now, Dr. Dre, Timbaland, and the Chainsmokers, I’m still shocked at the fact that this is happening. But ultimately, I am grateful for the fact that this is happening. I am proud of myself as well for how far I’ve come. Someone like Timbaland — they are literally the reason why I started producing music; I would literally copy their beats, and try to sound like them growing up. 

[Now] I have them in the same room talking, and we’re teaching and learning, making music and feeding off of each others’ energy. It’s a dream come true, literally.

What's it like working with am electro-pop group like the Chainsmokers? How’d you keep your musical authenticity on "PTSD"?

That experiment ["PTSD"] was actually something I would play with back home. But the crazy thing is, it’s gonna be on the album now, not the EP. I would play it back home, like just trying to get the EDM and Afrohouse world to connect, cause I get in my Albert Einstein bag sometimes and just try and experiment. So when I met the Chainsmokers and like. "Okay, this is an opportunity to actually do it now," and we had a very lengthy conversation. 

We bonded first as friends before we went into the studio. We had an amazing conversation talking about music, [them] talking about pop and electronic music, and me talking about African music. So it was just a bunch of producers geeking out on what they love to do. And then we just talk through how we think the sound would be like really technical terms. Then we get into the studio and just bang it out. Hopefully, we get to make some more music because I think we can create something for the world together.

I’ve noticed you dress a bit eccentrically. Have you always had this aesthetic?

I’ve always dabbled in fashion. Even growing up, I would sketch for my sister and make this little clothing, so like I would kick up my uniform as well, make it baggy, make it flare pants, make it fly. 

I think that stuck with me until now, trying different things with fashion. And now I have like stylists I can talk to and throw ideas off of and create something together. So yeah, I want to get into the fashion space and see what the world has in store for me. 

What can fans expect as you’re putting the finishing touches on your upcoming EP Pheelz Good II and your album?

Pheelz Good II, [will be] a close to the Pheelz Good trilogy of Pheelz Good I, Pheelz Good Triibe Tape and Pheelz Good II. The album is going to be me being unapologetically myself still. But it will also be me being as vulnerable as I can be. 

It’s going to be me embracing my crayge [crazy rage]. Like just embracing me unapologetically and being me, being myself, and allowing my people to gravitate towards me, you get me. But I’m working on some really amazing music that I am so proud of. I’m so proud of the EP and the album.

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When Code Orange's Jami Morgan came to work with Steve Albini, he knew that he and the band had to be prepared. They knew what they wanted to do, in which order, and "it went as good as any process we've ever had — probably the best," he glowed.

And a big part of that was that Albini —  a legendary musician and creator of now-iconic indie, punk and alternative records —  didn't consider himself any sort of impresario. 

"The man wears a garbage man suit to work every day," Morgan previously told GRAMMY.com while promoting Code Orange's The Above. "It reminds him he's doing a trade… I f—ing loved him. I thought he was the greatest guy."

The masterful The Above was released in 2023, decades into Albini's astonishing legacy both onstage and in the studio. The twisted mastermind behind Big Black and Shellac, and man behind the board for innumerable off-center classics, Steve Albini passed away on the evening of May 7 following a heart attack suffered at his Chicago recording studio, the hallowed Electrical Audio. He was 61. The first Shellac album since 2014, To All Trains, is due May 17.

Albini stuck to his stubborn principles (especially in regard to the music industry), inimitable aesthetics and workaday self-perception until the end. Tributes highlighting his ethos, attitude and vision have been flowing in from all corners of the indie community. The revered label Secretly Canadian called Albini "a wizard who would hate being called a wizard, but who surely made magic."

David Grubbs of Gastr Del Sol called him "a brilliant, infinitely generous person, absolutely one-of-a-kind, and so inspiring to see him change over time and own up to things he outgrew" — meaning old, provocative statements and lyrics.

And mononymous bassist Stin of the bludgeoning noise rock band Chat Pile declared, "No singular artist's body of work has had an impact on me more than that of Steve Albini."

To wade through Albini's entire legacy, and discography, would take a lifetime — and happy hunting, as so much great indie, noise rock, punk, and so much more passed across his desk. Here are five of those albums.

Pixies - Surfer Rosa (1988)

Your mileage may vary on who lit the match for the alternative boom, but Pixies — and their debut Surfer Rosa — deserve a place in that debate. This quicksilver classic introduced us to a lot of Steve Albini's touchstones: capacious miking techniques; unadulterated, audio verite takes; serrated noise.

PJ Harvey - Rid of Me (1993)

Some of Albini's finest hours have resulted from carefully arranging the room, hitting record, and letting an artist stalk the studio like a caged animal.

It happened on Scout Niblett's This Fool Can Die Now; it happened on Laura Jane Grace's Stay Alive; and it most certainly happened on PJ Harvey's Rid of Me, which can be seen as a precedent for both. Let tunes like "Man-Size" take a shot at you; that scar won't heal anytime soon.

Nirvana - In Utero (1993)

Nirvana's unintended swan song in the studio was meant to burn the polished Nevermind in effigy.

And while Kurt Cobain was too much of a pop beautician to fully do that, In Utero is still one of the most bracing and unvarnished mainstream rock albums ever made. Dave Grohl's drum sound on "Scentless Apprentice" alone is a shot to your solar plexus.

"The thing that I was really charmed most by in the whole process was just hearing how good a job the band had done the first time around," Albini told GRAMMY.com upon In Utero's 20th anniversary remix and remastering. "What struck me the most about the [remastering and reissue] process was the fact that everybody was willing to go the full nine yards for quality."

Songs: Ohia - The Magnolia Electric Co. (2003)

When almost a dozen musicians packed into Electrical Audio to make The Magnolia Electric Co., the vibe was, well, electric — prolific singer/songwriter Jason Molina was on the verge of something earth-shaking.

It's up for debate as to whether the album they made was the final Songs: Ohia record, or the first by his following project, Magnolia Electric Co. — is a tempestuous, majestic, symbolism-heavy, Crazy Horse-scaled ride through Molina's troubled psyche.

Code Orange - The Above (2023)

A health issue kept Code Orange from touring behind The Above, which is a shame for many reasons. One is that they're a world-class live band. The other is that The Above consists of their most detailed and accomplished material to date.

The band's frontman Morgan and keyboardist Eric "Shade" Balderose produced The Above, which combines hardcore, metalcore and industrial rock with concision and vision. And by capturing their onstage fire like never before on record, Albini helped glue it all together.

"It was a match made in heaven," Morgan said. And Albini made ferocity, ugliness and transgression seem heavenly all the same.

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