Jasmine Bailey wants to feel spaciousness through life's mayhem. It's a product of her Sagittarian energy, as she tells on her latest single, "The Getaway."

"Sagittarius queen/ Got everything left to see/ Born of fire/ And got those restless feet," Bailey sings on the second verse. She's a free spirit, ready for her next adventure and simply "living for the getaway."

In this episode of Positive Vibes Only, Bailey offers a psychedelic performance of the track, using only an electric guitar, a MIDI pad controller, and her soft, airy vocals. As a deeply spiritual individual, Bailey strives to make sonically relaxing music through sound frequencies. To add to the overall ambiance, she performs in front a screen projecting nature images and slow-moving waves.

"The Getaway" is a preview of the singer's forthcoming debut album, slated to release this year. Bailey is also a musicology student at the University of California-Los Angeles and an active member of The Recording Academy's GRAMMY U program with mentorship from GRAMMY-winning producer Brian Gibbs.

Press play on the video above to watch Jasmine Bailey's soothing performance of "The Getaway," and keep checking back to GRAMMY.com every Sunday for more new episodes of Positive Vibes Only.

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When the second Barbie teaser landed like a hydrogen bomb made of memes, the world got the first inkling this would be a very musical movie.

That was by way of the Beach Boys' "Fun, Fun, Fun," rendered chopped and screwed and vaguely menacing. ("Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun! Fun!" the heavily altered Boys intone, over and over and over.) Now, it's clear that the sunny '60s hit was just, ahem, the tip of the iceberg.

As Rolling Stone reports, the Barbie soundtrack — known as Barbie The Album — will be a veritable toybox of the biggest pop stars today. Those are: Ava Max, Charli XCX, Dominic Fike, Dua Lipa, FIFTY FIFTY, GAYLE, HAIM, Ice Spice, Kali, Karol G, Khalid, Lizzo, Nicki Minaj, PinkPantheress, Ryan Gosling (!), Tame Impala, and the Kid Laroi.

That's not even all of them — more artists will be announced closer to Barbie The Album's release date, on July 21. (That's also the day the film drops.) Until then, read on for everything we could find about the Barbie soundtrack… so far.

Mark Ronson Is The Executive Music Producer

The seven-time GRAMMY-winning record producer and songwriter, who's worked with everyone from Lady Gaga to Paul McCartney to Adele, is at the helm. "This Ken helped make a whole soundtrack," Ronson tweeted, acknowledging his involvement.

The Soundtrack Contains 17 Songs

That's as per Apple Music, which details the lion's share of the tracklist. (Tracks six and 11 are TBD). Check it out for very Barbie song titles like Lizzo's "Pink," Ryan Gosling's "I'm Just Ken" and Dominic Fike's "Hey Blondie." And…

Barbie Girls, In A Barbie World

…yes, you read that right: Nicki Minaj and Ice Spice will team up with Aqua to perform "Barbie World" — a new version of the classic "Barbie Girl" song, which appears in the official trailer.

Dua Lipa's "Dance The Night" Is A Contender For The Centerpiece

On May 25, Dua Lipa dropped the official music video for "Dance the Night." (The three-time GRAMMY winner also plays Mermaid Barbie in the film.) 

Aside from her 2022 collaborative track with Megan Thee Stallion, "Sweetest Pie," Lipa's been quiet since the Future Nostalgia era; "Dance the Night" captures the magic of hits like "Levitating" and cements her as the post-pandemic disco queen.

Something Is Happening With Lady Gaga

The official Barbie Twitter account seemingly confirmed rumors of Lady Gaga's involvement when they tweeted eye emojis at Gaga's promise of "something exciting." Wait and see, we suppose.

No Beach Boys Tunes Are Known To Be On The Soundtrack — Yet

It remains to be seen whether "Fun, Fun, Fun" will simply be a trailer song or play some key part in the film proper. With a catalog literally filled to the brim with beach-getaway bangers, they could play a key role in Barbie's musical world. Again: wait and see.

Nicki Minaj Is Here For A Very Good Reason

As Rolling Stone points out: what is Nicki Minaj's most famous persona? You guessed it. Expect the Harajuku Barbie to loom large on the soundtrack — and perhaps, at least spiritually, in the film.

Keep checking back as more details about the Barbie soundtrack come to light!

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When Dolly Parton, flanked by Brad Paisley, handed Faith Hill her GRAMMY for Best Country Album in 2001 — for her classic 1999 album Breathe — it felt like a passing of the torch.*

The first words out of an awestruck Hill's mouth, to Parton: "Wow! And coming from you, thank you so much. I just admire you so much."

Hill went on to deliver a heartfelt speech, in which she thanked her parents for helping facilitate her music dreams and expressed how long and hard her journey to the GRAMMYs stage was.

Breathe helped Hill take home three GRAMMYs that night — the others being Best Female Country Vocal Performance ("Breathe") and Best Country Collaboration With Vocals ("Let's Make Love," with three-time GRAMMY-winning husband Tim McGraw.)

Check out the throwback to Y2K-era country music history above, and keep checking back to GRAMMY.com for more episodes of GRAMMY Rewind.

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A line from Joanna Hogg’s 2019 drama The Souvenir has threaded itself through Arlo Parks’ consciousness: "We don't want to just see life played out as is. We want to see life as it is experienced, within this soft machine."

The phrase was so resonant that it inspired the title of Parks' second studio album: My Soft Machine. "That’s exactly what this record is to me — the world through my eyes, through the prism of my brain, how what I feel passes through my skin and body," she told GRAMMY.com.

Though she’s intent on practicing patience, the British alternative artist has never been one to fall into passivity. A poet at heart, Parks beads delicate details like strings of jewels — first on her pair of promising 2019 EPs, and then with her acclaimed debut, 2021's Collapsed in Sunbeams. The lustrous album shone like treasure, earning GRAMMY nominations for Best New Artist and Best Alternative Album in 2022.

Praised for its candor and discussions of mental health, Collapsed in Sunbeams proved that Parks knows how to put memories to music in a way that catches the light. My Soft Machine continues this reflective pattern: it’s a kaleidoscope into Parks’ soul, laced with serendipity, solace, and color. The album title evokes an unusual polarity of both gentleness and automation, yet the record is anything but mechanical. Out May 26, My Soft Machine tingles with earnesty and warmth to the point of ache, bearing its honesty like a handwritten letter to a loved one.

Considering the album’s often weighty subject matter, it might come as a surprise that Parks describes its loose creative process as filled with more "silliness" than ever before. But the easy-fitting, experimental side of the record mirrors Parks’ approach to life and music: she has a gift for finding optimism in darkness.

Parks got introspective, sharing with GRAMMY.com how travel and self-care positively manifest in her life — and how My Soft Machine filled her with a sense of purpose.

What headspace were you in when you were working on My Soft Machine? How did your approach compare with making Collapsed in Sunbeams?

I was in an emotionally heightened headspace. I had a lot I needed to put down, untangle and understand about myself. I needed to really examine what I was carrying with me through the world.

The approach was a lot more collaborative and loose than Collapsed in Sunbeams. There was a lot of jamming, of bringing in singular players like David Longstreth, of changing my mind and sculpting songs over months. There was a lot more silliness and an experimental quality to the whole My Soft Machine making process.

What did you learn about yourself while working on My Soft Machine?

I learnt that writing and music are truly at the core of who I am — when I have a day off I’m driving and listening to NTS (Radio) or I’m sitting down and brainstorming a script or a novel — what I do is truly who I am. I think I also learnt that I’m quite an intuitive, impatient creator. It really served me to have patience and wait for the songs to reveal themselves.

You use mentions of color so beautifully and precisely throughout your music. What colors or aesthetics do you associate with My Soft Machine versus Collapsed in Sunbeams? If you had to make a moodboard for My Soft Machine, what would it look like?

It would have a lot of moody purples, inky night sky blues, the green of ferns, the fuchsia of bougainvillea in spring in Silverlake. There would be the dancing scene from "Happy Together" by Wong Kar Wai, the image "Broadway (Joy)" from 2001 by Justine Kurland, the skate bowl in Paranoid Park, my lover’s eyes in dusk light, the smell of trodden down roses, and the sting of road rash when you fall off a bike as a kid.

I was struck by My Soft Machine’s experimental, outgoing production, especially in "Devotion." What inspired this album’s sounds? What sort of textures do you look for in tracks?

The palette was quite simply "songs and sounds that I’ve always loved" — everything from "Last Splash" by the Breeders to the Dijon record to "Come On You Slags" by Aphex Twin to BLACK METAL by Dean Blunt to "I Bet on Losing Dogs" by Mitski. I think I’m drawn to crunchy textures, textures that make me shiver or put my hand over my heart because I’m reeling, textures that serve the story.

Performance artist Marina Abramović said great art is disturbing, and in a past interview, you equated this disturbance with change. How has working on My Soft Machine helped you view your life or the world in a different way?

I think it filled me with a sense of purpose; I felt so driven and rooted and settled in my own identity. It made me believe in serendipity, in the fact that imagination really is magic and that the ability to put difficult, nebulous words into something concrete is the biggest blessing I will ever receive.

What was it like working with Phoebe Bridgers for "Pegasus"? What do you look for in collaborators?

Phoebe is such a generous soul. She creates for the love of it, she’s so intelligent and funny and kind. I think I just look for kind people who understand me and why I do what I do.

What’s your ideal environment for creative work? How does travel impact your creativity, and what places are your favorite to revisit?

I love to work in a home — dogs running around, tape machines and obscure percussion instruments, tea, and someone’s sweater left on the couch. It has to feel lived in and warm.

Travel definitely opens me up; returning to somewhere like Tokyo or New York or New Zealand just makes me excited about the world and creative possibility. I just love to talk to people and understand their rituals and their musical subcultures. Traveling makes me more empathetic.

How do you feel you’ve changed since releasing Collapsed in Sunbeams? What have you learned that you wish your younger self had known?

I’ve become more assertive and more trusting in the ebb and flow of my ability to make cool things. I’ve learnt to really treasure time spent in water, with friends, having little dinner parties and watching silly shows. I wish my younger self would have known that dreams do come true but that to whom much is given, much will be expected.

You’ve been very open about how touring has impacted your mental health. How have you learned to prioritize self care? After your Instagram announcement, what was it like seeing other musicians reach out and share words of support?

I’ve learned to prioritize self care by really listening to myself, understanding where I feel most calm and carving out more time to do it. Setting aside time to camp or to go to the Korean Spa or brush burs out of my dogs fur or hang out with my girlfriend.

I felt so held when other people reached out saying "hey I feel the same" — I didn’t know what to expect and I got nothing but kindness.

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Kassa Overall holds his phone aloft, and rolls his eyes back in his head.

He's playing the intro to his track "Going Up," featuring Lil B, Shabazz Palaces and Francis and the Lights, which had dropped that day. A cello drone gives way to a strange woodblock part; a chopped-up drum solo jaws at everything — then it's as if Ableton freezes. Flanked by synths and sequencers, Overall seizes in his chair, as if he's being sucked into a black hole.

"You know the part where Neo gets kicked out of the Matrix?" the GRAMMY-nominated rapper, drummer and producer tells GRAMMY.com via Zoom. "It's like that, but when you get spit out, you actually get spit out in the bush in Africa."

That 20-second intro took Overall a long time to get right, but it's one of his favorite moments on his new album, ANIMALS — which arrived May 26 on Overall's new home, Warp Records.

The conversation has turned to the concept of absurdity —  a helpful lens through which to view Overall's art. It sure beats the one that hamstrung him in the past, when he did interview after interview after interview about the intersection of jazz and rap — with mental health thrown in for good measure.

"I've talked about this for two albums now," he told GRAMMY.com in 2021 with a hint of exhaustion. "I ran that cycle in my head. I'm not so much trying to prove the point anymore that these things can go together. I just want to make the dopest s—."

The joy of ANIMALS is not in that genre fusion, but Overall's swelling boldness and vividness as an artist — as well as its novel fusion of seemingly disparate collaborators. Try to find another record where you'll find jazz-adjacent pianists Vijay Iyer and Kris Davis next to singular rappers like Danny Brown and Lil B.

"The reason the jazz world feels a little bit dry and s— is because there's not really the space for absurdity," Overall says. "Somebody like Louis Armstrong or Dizzy Gillespie — a third of them was Lil B and Danny Brown energy. That's why it was fire."

On ANIMALS, Overall rose to the energetic occasion. The album is consumed with subjects like his uneasy relationship with ambition, and his relationship with his growing audience. On tracks like lead single "Ready to Ball," the Nick Hakim and Theo Croker-featuring "Make My Way Back Home," and the Vijay Iyer-assisted "The Score Was Made," Overall has bigger fish to fry — than where rap does or doesn't connect with jazz.

Read on for an interview with Overall about his latest career moves, bucking tired narratives and using collaborators as instruments — much like a certain embattled rap innovator.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

I'd like to start by talking about your pandemic-era SHADES trilogy of mixtapes. How was the experience making those mixtapes significant to your creative journey?

I was just thinking about the SHADES series yesterday, actually. I was thinking about the process of making that versus making a solo record, and I realized they're actually a lot more connected than people might think. 

When I make my own music, the process of it is still sample chopping — whether I'm chopping up original music, or chopping up some Nirvana, you know what I mean? Oftentimes, my original music includes collaging from other sources.

The SHADES thing was like me going, Let me actually deal with the sample practice. I missed the idea of taking some s— and flipping it. So, that was really a lot of fun.

I think SHADES 3, the third in the trilogy, was kind of a new direction for me, because I started actually using drum machines. The series started with more of me on the laptop, locked down in COVID, chopping up this and chopping of that. For this one, I had an actual studio behind me.

The lockdown is over, so I'm not so much in the headphones. So, if you listen to SHADES 3, it's more house tracks and s— like that. For me, it was just a good experiment. Although I made beats and used sample sequences, I never really got into step sequences, and those kinds of drum machines.

I'm a novice at that; I'm brand new at that. So, that's been a lot of fun.

The last time I interviewed you, you seemed to be trying to wrestle out of the reductive narrative around your music. You're dealing with more important subjects on ANIMALS. Where are you at in your career, through the lenses of public messaging and your signing to Warp?

Thank you for pointing that out first, because that'll allow me to not have to repeat things I'm tired of repeating.

Just to recap what you're saying, historically, jazz and rap often equals corny. I've never wanted to be corny, and I don't think I've ever been corny. It just happens to be the things that I say — where I come from. It's not so much like, I'm gonna do this.

And then the mental health s— is more like, I've just gotten comfortable talking about my life. Just like with any writer — you could be a writer for years, but it could become years until you become comfortable talking about your perspective and your ideas. If I'm just talking about the things that affect me a lot, that has to be a part of it. You can't not talk about it, but it was more like, I want to get past that.

I think that putting the album out on Warp is a bit of messaging in itself, because I've been making this music that I don't consider to be that weird. My music is not weird compared to Aphex Twin or Squarepusher, you know what I mean? 

It's a fresh take on electronics and organics, you know what I mean? It's unique, but it's not that weird. I came up through the industry I came up in. So, I'm trying to get booked in jazz clubs and play jazz festivals, and they're looking at me like, "Not under my banner!"

If you listen to the state of jazz, or different playlists on the various streaming platforms, they sound a lot different than when I first started putting music out. People were like, "Whoa, what is this? Is this your pop product? This is your pop album, right? How's your pop s— going?"

That's what my homies used to say — my jazz friends. "He plays good — like, he's a killing drummer, but he's also got this pop s— he do."

Your work doesn't resemble any pop music I've ever heard.

Nah, nah, But there's a drum machine of sorts. There's a clap that's not organic. There's vocals. [Laughs.] It's pop!

The first time I noticed was when I did a guest mix for BBC, which came through Tom Ravenscroft. He got hip to the album through Bandcamp; he had no idea who I am or what I am.

That's how I started even doing the SHADES stuff — when I got the opportunity to do guest mixes, I would do remixes to kind of double down. It's like a double word score of like, Yo, he's doing some extra-different s—.

So, they were like, "Producer Kassa Overall does a guest mix." And I noticed that it's the way you present something; people are listening to it differently. If I present an album as a jazz drummer, then it's some pop s— where I'm trying to sing or something. 

But then when it's presented as a producer thing, people are automatically like, "Oh, word. This is, like, electronic music. It's cool. We know where to put this."

My biggest influences are unique artists — unique people who made things that are kind of their own genre, whether it be Thom Yorke, Radiohead, Björk. Even Kanye; at a point, it was rebranding the whole idea. Like, "I'm a producer — no, I'm a rapper!" "You have a gangster image!" "No, I'm wearing skinny jeans and a pink polo!"

Then, even someone like John Coltrane, somebody like Bob Marley — obviously, these are the biggest artists in their fields, but they're also people [where] whatever they're making, you didn't really know what it was before it kind of popped in.

So, I would rather people hear my music and not think it's a jazz-rap collage. What if you don't relate it to anything else? What does it sound like to you?

The thing about the last album with Brownswood [Recordings, 2020's I THINK I'M GOOD]: I was like, "Bro, so many songs I'm making that y'all are considering to be B-sides would work well next to a Frank Ocean or James Blake record." 

Maybe it's a little too poppy for Brownswood's audience, but f— Brownswood's audience, you know what I mean? But there's a million people over here that don't even know what a Nord or a Rhodes is, and they f— with what I'm doing.

So I think that's the frustration I've dealt with. I'm just a dude making songs about my life. That's all it is.

Kassa Overall. Photo: Patrick O'Brien Smith

Was it a difficult process to find a post-Brownswood home that was conducive to what you want to do?

No, it was very easy. And shouts to Brownswood; I'm not saying "F— Brownswood." That's the homies. [Label founder] Gilles Peterson is still a big supporter of what I'm doing. I'm just saying moreso my image and branding — if you want to make it seem like I'm this organic Afro-bop type, it's not gonna really sell. My s— is way too sad boy.

Somebody from Warp hit me up after I THINK I'M GOOD came out and asked me to make some beats for Danny Brown. Actually, they asked me if I had some beats. I was like, "Bro, give me two weeks," and I made three beats for Danny Brown; he picked two of them.

And then, that same A&R came back around and was like, "Yo, I think you should touch some other tracks on the album and 'Kass out' the whole album." So, I added all sorts of little drums and vocal throws — different things to give my little texture.

I ended up working on four joints total on Danny's next record — and fully producing one, which is one of the singles, but it sounds like a Kass kind of thing. So, that relationship started, and we chop it up on music stuff regularly.

When I started getting ready to shop for my next record, it was kind of like, "Y'all want to do it?" and [Warp] was like "Hell yeah."

I could have signed somewhere else and gotten more money, but the branding would be the same "What is this?" type of thing. I think Warp has the history of electronic music, and they have artists there now — it tells a story of what I'm doing, in a good way. I fit into the thing.

You came up in the jazz scene, and your relationship with ambition weighs heavily on ANIMALS. What is it about that world that lends itself to a hyper-competitive, rise-and-grind spirit?

I think it's the displacement of a cultural home. I understand what you're talking about — jazz, self-help, motivational. There's so many connector cables there, and I'm guilty of it all. 

As a jazz musician, you have to learn how to practice. Like, I'm gonna practice all day, and the gigs are gonna come, and you're damn near doing, like, affirmations, and then you go sit in at Smalls. It's not like a doctor goes to school, and then applies, and it's an actual, visible track, The music thing is very pie-in-the-sky.

If you think about self-help as its own branding and industry, a lot of jazz musicians are susceptible to that kind of rhetoric. Because it's like, this person is huge, this person has nothing, and they're almost equally talented. One of them grinds his ass off; the other one drinks. 

The other thing — this might be a little darker, a shadow thing — is one thing that happened with jazz is colleges. Once jazz became this academia thing, that's the student industry. That means you have jazz musicians turning to students as a means of sustainment.

That's not really the culture of the music. The music isn't really rise-and-grind. The culture is not even about success. People like Jimmy Heath expressed this to me: it wasn't popular. 

It's popular now, or it looks like it. A Love Supreme is this huge thing, right? But if you listen to Elvin Jones interviews and stuff, he talks about playing in these clubs, and there's, like, six people there. Four of them are waiters, and people were not trying to hear that noise.

The idea is that you're going to choose this music that's not really designed for mass appeal, but the motivation is mass appeal. It's kind of a conflicting direction. That's not to say it can't work; there's a lot of people making it work.

But we're all screwed a little bit. It might not just be a jazz musician thing, and it might not just be a musician thing, but we're all kind of in this place of Work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work, and who works the most wins.

I don't want to live like that, and I find myself in that position at times. I'm going like, Something's got to give eventually. It's supposed to be more of a spiritual thing — a practice.

Kassa Overall. Photo: Patrick O'Brien Smith

You mentioned Kanye; I love the way he seemed to use collaborators as instruments on Donda. I get that same feeling from ANIMALS.

It's funny you say this. When I started working on this record — we're talking about 2019, even, some of these joints — I always pick a couple of albums to compete with. That's kind of one of my secrets. The last record was <a href="https://www.grammy.com/artists/calvin-broadus/14274">[Snoop Dogg's] Doggystyle and <a href="https://www.grammy.com/artists/2pac/7233">[2Pac's] All Eyez on Me. And this record was Dark Twisted Fantasy.

I haven't said this much in interviews, because I don't want to be like, "Kassa Overall drops album dedicated to Kanye!" [Laughs hard] But he was a huge influence on my process. 

You have these long-ass songs. It's an open-ended beat. And however many minutes [into Dark Twisted Fantasy], Rick Ross comes in. Or you have Paul McCartney working on the melody. That was the inspiration behind this. If you listen close to a lot of the sonics, you'll hear, Oh, this is in conversation with that production process.

A musician like Kris Davis, for example. An absolute weirdo. You sit down and talk with her — so stoic. Who she is in itself is an anomaly. And then the music she makes is so unique.

Somebody like her would never cross paths with Danny Brown, who's equally strange. Even just his voice; he was a weirdo in his world. He was signed to G-Unit. He came up in Detroit, street rap adjacent, but when he popped off by kind of busting out of that and embracing more of the weirdo myths of his art. He's a standout in his own space.

I look at those two artists as people that actually have more in common than you would think. They're similar because they're very different in their own spaces. I think the world that Danny Brown lives in is better with Kris Davis in it. And I think the world that Kris Davis and Vijay Iyer are in is better with Lil B in it.

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