Steve Griggs was dumbstruck at what he was hearing. For the past several years, he'd been on a crusade to learn more about Joe Brazil, the mysterious name on the back of John Coltrane's Om, credited as playing flute. The journey led him to Joe's widow Virginia's home — where Joe had died in 2008. There, she invited Griggs to sift through a massive collection of reel-to-reel tapes Brazil had made throughout the years.

"I kind of felt overwhelmed — almost paralyzed," Griggs tells GRAMMY.com. "Like, how do I approach this volume?" He decided to start with Joe's recordings of his close friend, Coltrane. One, marked "Saturday, Oct. 2 — A Love," caught his eye, due to its temporal proximity to the legend's famous Live in Seattle album. "There was no documented performance of A Love Supreme," Griggs notes of that period. "I was like, 'Oh, maybe he taped the record or something. I was skeptical: 'A Love?' What?"

But when Griggs put on the tape, it gradually dawned on him: He was hearing "Psalm," the solemn closer from A Love Supreme. He flipped the tape over, and there it was: The famous fanfare from opener "Acknowledgement." This finding took his breath away: Until then, there had only been one known live recording of Coltrane's monumental suite, his statement of spiritual intent. Here was a major document, and no Trane scholar knew it existed on the planet.

Virginia struck a deal for Resonance Records co-president Zev Feldman to acquire the tapes — partly so they'd "stay out of the hands of nefarious bootleggers," as Feldman tells GRAMMY.com. Due to Resonance's longstanding relationship with Verve Label Group and Impulse!, they were able to get it in the hands of the proper rightsholders at Universal Music Group.

Now, this recording that Griggs says "might have gone in a trash can" can be cherished by jazz fans the world over. A Love Supreme: Live in Seattle, which was released Oct. 22 via Impulse!/UMe, features a polished version of that very tape in full — bigger, rawer and wilder. It shows that the jazz legend sought to test its edges, reconsider its components, scramble its equilibrium. A Love Supreme wasn't just a classic record: It was alive.

And if not for Brazil — a saxophonist, community hub and consummate documentarian who many jazz scholars aren't aware of — we wouldn't be able to enjoy this music today.

Joe Brazil. Photo courtesy of the Joe Brazil Collection.

"To me, there are two heroes of this recording, once you get beyond the musicians themselves," Mark Stryker, a jazz historian and columnist who authored 2019's Jazz From Detroit, tells GRAMMY.com. "Joe Brazil, for having the foresight to record that afternoon, and Steve Griggs, who brought it to the world, those are the heroes to me: Two saxophonists living decades apart in Seattle."

But Brazil was not merely capturing a famous musician, like a taper at a Grateful Dead show. As a recordist, musician and man about town, he was part of the "marrow" — Stryker's word — of the Detroit and Seattle jazz scenes. He also enjoyed a warm friendship with Coltrane, an intimidating figure to some. And after the saxophonist's death, Brazil was a passionate and unconventional music educator.

"If we didn't have this album — even if this didn't exist — Joe Brazil's life mattered," Stryker says. "It mattered in jazz in the way that so many lives in jazz mattered. And it's worth taking a minute to think about that."

As with the story of any life — especially one as magnificent and underreported as Brazil's — it's helpful to start at the beginning.

Roots In Detroit

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Griggs has spent a decade researching Brazil in the role of an "unpaid storyteller," and his findings are available to all. His Joe Brazil Project, which has been quietly accumulating on Blogspot since 2012, is a trove of historical goodies, from a Brazil family tree to a script for a Brazil-centric play to a photo of a cigarette burn on Brazil's piano — courtesy of Coltrane.

The blog also contains a timeline of Brazil's early life, and it goes something like this: Joe Brazil was born in Detroit in 1927, and went on to study saxophone at the Detroit Institute of Music and Conservatory of Music. Straight out of high school, he joined the army and played in a band called the G.I. Jazzmen of Geiger Field — named after where he was stationed, outside of Spokane.

Like many musicians in the incredibly fertile '50s jazz scene in Detroit, Brazil worked in the automotive industry — specifically at Chrysler, as a toolmaker and inspector. Being part of that burgeoning middle class allowed him to buy a house for his mother, with the help of his brother. After she died in 1951, he outfitted the basement with a bar, chess boards and a baby grand piano.

This hang-space attracted Detroit's best and brightest, like saxophonist Sonny Red, trumpeter Donald Byrd, pianist Barry Harris, bassist Doug Watkins, and drummer Roy Brooks. Even national touring artists like Coltrane and Miles Davis — who played together in Davis' First Great Quintet — passed through to jam and shoot the breeze.

"I had been to his house before and I played at some of those sessions," saxophonist Charles McPherson tells GRAMMY.com. "I know he was a guy that documented things — a lot of Detroit players, and people who would come through Detroit working with other people." (Plus, as Coltrane scholar Yasuhiro Fujioka explains to GRAMMY.com, Detroit was a suboptimal place to score drugs, which made it a destination for musicians hoping to get clean.)

Brazil's involvement in Detroit's music scene didn't end there: He dragged a somewhat cumbersome German tape recorder to clubs like the Blue Bird Inn, the West End and the Rouge Lounge.

"He was moving around and kind of greeting people. He was an MC of sorts," journalist, author and activist Herb Boyd tells GRAMMY.com of one such night at the Blue Bird. "At the same time, he was a host with the most, in terms of also documenting the occasion."

As Boyd points out, Detroit offered few club opportunities for young players, so they often congregated in homes. "It was very unique in that sense, because we had single dwellings and you had control of your basements and upstairs and attics and what have you," he says. "People could come by and you have an opportunity to sharpen and perfect your study of the music."

Joe Brazil's house in Detroit. Photo courtesy of the Joe Brazil Collection.

In 1958, Coltrane stopped by Brazil's place to jam with him and Joe Henderson; their rendition of "Sweet Georgia Brown" from this day is floating around on YouTube. Coltrane went on to become a frequent visitor whenever he and Davis were in town. As Griggs speculates, Brazil's ability to meet people on their level endeared him to Coltrane.

"People were intimidated by [Coltrane's] prowess," Griggs says. "Even back in Detroit, Roy Brooks and other musicians were like [Breathless voice] 'Coltrane! Coltrane! Coltrane!' They were making a big deal out of him. And it's appropriate to make a big deal out of him, but he's also a human being who's really curious and wants to know what everyone else is doing."

And in 1961, while most Detroit musicians headed eastward for New York, Brazil went the opposite direction — westward, to Seattle, to take a new job at Boeing. Despite this, his relationship with Coltrane didn't end there.

A Rendezvous In Seattle

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Two years after the move, Brazil enrolled at the University of Washington to study math and computer programming. He also soaked in the local jazz scene, performing with greats like saxophonist Charles Lloyd and bassist Rufus Reid.

"He was a character, for sure," the twice-GRAMMY-nominated Reid tells GRAMMY.com from his home in Teaneck, New Jersey. "He had that kind of energy; he could manifest all kinds of things and it was fun playing. I was learning tons about music I didn't know about."

Rufus Reid and Joe Brazil. Photo courtesy of the Joe Brazil Collection.

By 1965, Coltrane had released A Love Supreme, a record which made him a bona fide jazz star. "He's headlining wherever he wants to, whenever he wants to, clubs, festivals," GRAMMY-winning Coltrane scholar and author Ashley Kahn tells GRAMMY.com. "And he's making bank for it."

"But at the same time, he's taking that moment of what we would look upon as success and not slowing down," he adds. "In fact, he's increasing the tempo of his drive and saying, 'I'm going to keep experimenting."

That year, Coltrane's quartet — pianist McCoy Tyner, bassist Jimmy Garrison and drummer Elvin Jones, outfitted with tenor saxophonist Pharoah Sanders and second bassist Donald Garrett — rolled into Seattle to perform a weeklong residency at the 275-capacity Penthouse club.

Coltrane paid engineer Jan Curtis out of pocket to record the results, and the volcanic performance on Sept. 30 became 1971's Live in Seattle. Wanting to keep the vibe going, the group decamped with Brazil the next day to Camelot Sound Studios in the Seattle suburb of Lynnwood to record Om, one of Coltrane's furthest-out works. On the album, Brazil plays one of Trane's wooden African flutes, making Om the only known recorded collaboration between the two.

"The music sounded crazy. People were chanting, drums bashing, horns squealing," Griggs wrote of discovering Omon his blog. "I couldn't pick out any recognizable melody or form. It sounded like freedom — spirits unleashed. Emotive motifs turned up to 11!"

For the performance the following day, Oct. 2, alto saxophonist Carlos Ward sat in. After an opening performance by Brazil and his ensemble, he patched his recorder through the club's two-channel recording system. Right then, he captured this teeming, multitudinous version of Coltrane's suite.

"The fact that he was there to record it came as the fruition of this long life led in music up until that point," Stryker says. "He was really embedded within the core of the musician's life and the social and cultural fabrics of the cities in which he lived."

After Trane

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In 1967, Coltrane died of liver cancer at only 40, bringing his insatiable progression to a screeching halt. And, as Griggs speculates on his blog, the death hit Brazil hard, drawing the blueprint for the rest of his life — especially given that Martin Luther King, Jr. would be assassinated the following year.

"This existential reckoning may have urged him to pass information on to the next generation," Griggs writes, noting that Brazil went on to teach music locally at Seattle Community College, Washington Middle School and Garfield High School.

His teaching career took an abrupt turn from there: In 1968, a black student union and the Black Panthers occupied the University of Washington's president's office, demanding the formation of a Black studies program. Fully aware of Brazil as a community member and Coltrane associate, the union demanded the school hire him as a faculty member at their school of music.

At UW, Brazil used his unpolished, personable teaching style to bring jazz pioneers, like Dizzy Gillespie and Herbie Hancock, eye-to-eye with students. "He felt that the important point about the music was one-on-one relationships," Griggs says. "That's how the music spreads."

Cannonball Adderley and Joe Brazil. Photo courtesy of the Joe Brazil Collection.

While Brazil had a special way of communing with students, his unvarnished approach — chronically late, flouting academic decorum — flew in the face of academic mores and stoked derision from other faculty members.

"He was very street, in a certain way, and that didn't fly in an institution that was modeling itself after a European conservatory," Griggs says. "Perhaps they were jealous that he was connecting so well with students. The students were so happy to be in his class, but he wasn't credentialed like the rest of the faculty. He was Black. He didn't have degrees."

Despite breaking down barriers in academia, Brazil was ultimately not granted tenure, and was eventually replaced by Milton Stewart, another Black professor from the University of Michigan — who, Griggs says, weathered even more abuse than Brazil did.

Read More: Giant Steps At 60: Why John Coltrane's Classic Hard Bop Album Is More Than A Jazz-School Worksheet

Before and after leaving the University of Washington in 1976, Brazil became even more involved with his Seattle community, teaching students and inmates — often at little or no cost — and founding a nonprofit music school called the Black Academy of Music. The King of Sweden, Carl Gustaf, presented him with a service award in 1976.

"My life has taken a number of directions, but all seemingly with a purpose," Brazil wrote at one point. "Along the way I have come in contact with some remarkable people. Most have had some positive impact on my life. I have also come in contact with many racists and bigots.

"I feel the information that I share about my life," he added, "may help to bring about some awareness that will bring us earthlings a step closer together."

Zooming Out From Brazil

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Sadly, Brazil is no longer around to tell his story: In 2008, he died at 80 after a history of heart problems. And while his story is fascinating enough to warrant a biography — Griggs has been trying to write one for a while — Brazil's relative marginalization speaks to the unwritten history of this Black, American idiom.

"My understanding is that Joe was a good musician, but he wasn't a great musician and he didn't record," Stryker says. "In jazz history, we tend not to remember people that haven't recorded." But, he stresses, even those who weren't in jazz's Mount Rushmore — and even those far from it — indisputably impacted the musicians, communities and cities they were part of.

"If we didn't have this album — even if this didn't exist — Joe Brazil's life mattered."
—Mark Stryker

"If you step back and you look at Joe's life in the broader sense of the history of jazz, you see someone who had an extraordinarily fulfilling and influential role in the communities where he lived," Stryker adds. "He was at the center of action in some ways in Detroit, and in Seattle he began to play an even larger role."

Now, with A Love Supreme: Live in Seattle out in the world, neophytes, fans and scholars alike can take a moment to appreciate the little-known figure who captured this music for the world.

"It's natural that everybody's going to gravitate to Trane and the story and the recording and all that," Stryker says, surveying the mostly Brazil-less ocean of reviews and features about the long-lost recording.

"But I would've thought that someone before this," he adds, "might have thought to take a step back and talk a little bit about Joe."

Joe Brazil. Photo courtesy of the Joe Brazil Collection.

Gerry Gibbs Assembled Jazz Legends To Honor His Father's Music. The Result Contained Chick Corea's Final Recordings.

Updated Friday Oct. 13, 2023 to include info about Kendrick Lamar's most recent GRAMMY wins, as of the 2023 GRAMMYs.

A GRAMMY veteran these days, Kendrick Lamar has won 17 GRAMMYs and has received 47 GRAMMY nominations overall. A sizable chunk of his trophies came from the 58th annual GRAMMY Awards in 2016, when he walked away with five — including his first-ever win in the Best Rap Album category.

This installment of GRAMMY Rewind turns back the clock to 2016, revisiting Lamar's acceptance speech upon winning Best Rap Album for To Pimp A Butterfly. Though Lamar was alone on stage, he made it clear that he wouldn't be at the top of his game without the help of a broad support system. 

"First off, all glory to God, that's for sure," he said, kicking off a speech that went on to thank his parents, who he described as his "those who gave me the responsibility of knowing, of accepting the good with the bad."

Looking for more GRAMMYs news? The 2024 GRAMMY nominations are here!

He also extended his love and gratitude to his fiancée, Whitney Alford, and shouted out his Top Dawg Entertainment labelmates. Lamar specifically praised Top Dawg's CEO, Anthony Tiffith, for finding and developing raw talent that might not otherwise get the chance to pursue their musical dreams.

"We'd never forget that: Taking these kids out of the projects, out of Compton, and putting them right here on this stage, to be the best that they can be," Lamar — a Compton native himself — continued, leading into an impassioned conclusion spotlighting some of the cornerstone rap albums that came before To Pimp a Butterfly.

"Hip-hop. Ice Cube. This is for hip-hop," he said. "This is for Snoop Dogg, Doggystyle. This is for Illmatic, this is for Nas. We will live forever. Believe that."

To Pimp a Butterfly singles "Alright" and "These Walls" earned Lamar three more GRAMMYs that night, the former winning Best Rap Performance and Best Rap Song and the latter taking Best Rap/Sung Collaboration (the song features Bilal, Anna Wise and Thundercat). He also won Best Music Video for the remix of Taylor Swift's "Bad Blood." 

Lamar has since won Best Rap Album two more times, taking home the golden gramophone in 2018 for his blockbuster LP DAMN., and in 2023 for his bold fifth album, Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers.

Watch Lamar's full acceptance speech above, and check back at GRAMMY.com every Friday for more GRAMMY Rewind episodes. 

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It's rare that a genre can be traced back to a single artist or group, but for funk, that was James Brown. The Godfather of Soul coined the phrase and style of playing known as "on the one," where the first downbeat is emphasized, instead of the typical second and fourth beats in pop, soul and other styles. As David Cheal eloquently explains, playing on the one "left space for phrases and riffs, often syncopated around the beat, creating an intricate, interlocking grid which could go on and on." You know a funky bassline when you hear it; its fat chords beg your body to get up and groove.

Brown's 1965 classic, "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag," became one of the first funk hits, and has been endlessly sampled and covered over the years, along with his other groovy tracks. Of course, many other funk acts followed in the '60s, and the genre thrived in the '70s and '80s as the disco craze came and went, and the originators of hip-hop and house music created new music from funk and disco's strong, flexible bones built for dancing.

Legendary funk bassist Bootsy Collins learned the power of the one from playing in Brown's band, and brought it to George Clinton, who created P-funk, an expansive, Afrofuturistic, psychedelic exploration of funk with his various bands and projects, including Parliament-Funkadelic. Both Collins and Clinton remain active and funkin', and have offered their timeless grooves to collabs with younger artists, including Kali Uchis, Silk Sonic, and Omar Apollo; and Kendrick Lamar, Flying Lotus, and Thundercat, respectively.

In the 1980s, electro-funk was born when artists like Afrika Bambaataa, Man Parrish, and Egyptian Lover began making futuristic beats with the Roland TR-808 drum machine — often with robotic vocals distorted through a talk box. A key distinguishing factor of electro-funk is a de-emphasis on vocals, with more phrases than choruses and verses. The sound influenced contemporaneous hip-hop, funk and electronica, along with acts around the globe, while current acts like Chromeo, DJ Stingray, and even Egyptian Lover himself keep electro-funk alive and well.

Today, funk lives in many places, with its heavy bass and syncopated grooves finding way into many nooks and crannies of music. There's nu-disco and boogie funk, nodding back to disco bands with soaring vocals and dance floor-designed instrumentation. G-funk continues to influence Los Angeles hip-hop, with innovative artists like Dam-Funk and Channel Tres bringing the funk and G-funk, into electro territory. Funk and disco-centered '70s revival is definitely having a moment, with acts like Ghost Funk Orchestra and Parcels, while its sparkly sprinklings can be heard in pop from Dua Lipa, Doja Cat, and, in full "Soul Train" character, Silk Sonic. There are also acts making dreamy, atmospheric music with a solid dose of funk, such as Khruangbin’s global sonic collage.

There are many bands that play heavily with funk, creating lush grooves designed to get you moving. Read on for a taste of five current modern funk and nu-disco artists making band-led uptempo funk built for the dance floor. Be sure to press play on the Spotify playlist above, and check out GRAMMY.com's playlist on Apple Music, Amazon Music and Pandora.

Say She She

Aptly self-described as "discodelic soul," Brooklyn-based seven-piece Say She She make dreamy, operatic funk, led by singer-songwriters Nya Gazelle Brown, Piya Malik and Sabrina Mileo Cunningham. Their '70s girl group-inspired vocal harmonies echo, sooth and enchant as they cover poignant topics with feminist flair.

While they’ve been active in the New York scene for a few years, they’ve gained wider acclaim for the irresistible music they began releasing this year, including their debut album, Prism. Their 2022 debut single "Forget Me Not" is an ode to ground-breaking New York art collective Guerilla Girls, and "Norma" is their protest anthem in response to the news that Roe vs. Wade could be (and was) overturned. The band name is a nod to funk legend Nile Rodgers, from the "Le freak, c'est chi" exclamation in Chic's legendary tune "Le Freak."

Moniquea

Moniquea's unique voice oozes confidence, yet invites you in to dance with her to the super funky boogie rhythms. The Pasadena, California artist was raised on funk music; her mom was in a cover band that would play classics like Aretha Franklin’s "Get It Right" and Gladys Knight’s "Love Overboard." Moniquea released her first boogie funk track at 20 and, in 2011, met local producer XL Middelton — a bonafide purveyor of funk. She's been a star artist on his MoFunk Records ever since, and they've collabed on countless tracks, channeling West Coast energy with a heavy dose of G-funk, sunny lyrics and upbeat, roller disco-ready rhythms.

Her latest release is an upbeat nod to classic West Coast funk, produced by Middleton, and follows her February 2022 groovy, collab-filled album, On Repeat.

Shiro Schwarz

Shiro Schwarz is a Mexico City-based duo, consisting of Pammela Rojas and Rafael Marfil, who helped establish a modern funk scene in the richly creative Mexican metropolis. On "Electrify" — originally released in 2016 on Fat Beats Records and reissued in 2021 by MoFunk — Shiro Schwarz's vocals playfully contrast each other, floating over an insistent, upbeat bassline and an '80s throwback electro-funk rhythm with synth flourishes.

Their music manages to be both nostalgic and futuristic — and impossible to sit still to. 2021 single "Be Kind" is sweet, mellow and groovy, perfect chic lounge funk. Shiro Schwarz’s latest track, the joyfully nostalgic "Hey DJ," is a collab with funkstress Saucy Lady and U-Key.

L'Impératrice

L'Impératrice (the empress in French) are a six-piece Parisian group serving an infectiously joyful blend of French pop, nu-disco, funk and psychedelia. Flore Benguigui's vocals are light and dreamy, yet commanding of your attention, while lyrics have a feminist touch.

During their energetic live sets, L'Impératrice members Charles de Boisseguin and Hagni Gwon (keys), David Gaugué (bass), Achille Trocellier (guitar), and Tom Daveau (drums) deliver extended instrumental jam sessions to expand and connect their music. Gaugué emphasizes the thick funky bass, and Benguigui jumps around the stage while sounding like an angel. L’Impératrice’s latest album, 2021’s Tako Tsubo, is a sunny, playful French disco journey.

Franc Moody

Franc Moody's bio fittingly describes their music as "a soul funk and cosmic disco sound." The London outfit was birthed by friends Ned Franc and Jon Moody in the early 2010s, when they were living together and throwing parties in North London's warehouse scene. In 2017, the group grew to six members, including singer and multi-instrumentalist Amber-Simone.

Their music feels at home with other electro-pop bands like fellow Londoners Jungle and Aussie act Parcels. While much of it is upbeat and euphoric, Franc Moody also dips into the more chilled, dreamy realm, such as the vibey, sultry title track from their recently released Into the Ether.

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Living Legends is a series that spotlights icons in music still going strong today. This week, GRAMMY.com spoke with Billy Idol about his latest EP,  Cage, and continuing to rock through decades of changing tastes.

Billy Idol is a true rock 'n' roll survivor who has persevered through cultural shifts and personal struggles. While some may think of Idol solely for "Rebel Yell" and "White Wedding," the singer's musical influences span genres and many of his tunes are less turbo-charged than his '80s hits would belie.  

Idol first made a splash in the latter half of the '70s with the British punk band Generation X. In the '80s, he went on to a solo career combining rock, pop, and punk into a distinct sound that transformed him and his musical partner, guitarist Steve Stevens, into icons. They have racked up multiple GRAMMY nominations, in addition to one gold, one double platinum, and four platinum albums thanks to hits like "Cradle Of Love," "Flesh For Fantasy," and "Eyes Without A Face." 

But, unlike many legacy artists, Idol is anything but a relic. Billy continues to produce vital Idol music by collaborating with producers and songwriters — including Miley Cyrus — who share his forward-thinking vision. He will play a five-show Vegas residency in November, and filmmaker Jonas Akerlund is working on a documentary about Idol’s life. 

His latest release is Cage, the second in a trilogy of annual four-song EPs. The title track is a classic Billy Idol banger expressing the desire to free himself from personal constraints and live a better life. Other tracks on Cage incorporate metallic riffing and funky R&B grooves. 

Idol continues to reckon with his demons — they both grappled with addiction during the '80s — and the singer is open about those struggles on the record and the page. (Idol's 2014 memoir Dancing With Myself, details a 1990 motorcycle accident that nearly claimed a leg, and how becoming a father steered him to reject hard drugs. "Bitter Taste," from his last EP, The Roadside, reflects on surviving the accident.)

Although Idol and Stevens split in the late '80s — the skilled guitarist fronted Steve Stevens & The Atomic Playboys, and collaborated with Michael Jackson, Rick Ocasek, Vince Neil, and Harold Faltermeyer (on the GRAMMY-winning "Top Gun Anthem") —  their common history and shared musical bond has been undeniable. The duo reunited in 2001 for an episode of "VH1 Storytellers" and have been back in the saddle for two decades. Their union remains one of the strongest collaborations in rock 'n roll history.

While there is recognizable personnel and a distinguishable sound throughout a lot of his work, Billy Idol has always pushed himself to try different things. Idol discusses his musical journey, his desire to constantly move forward, and the strong connection that he shares with Stevens. 

Steve has said that you like to mix up a variety of styles, yet everyone assumes you're the "Rebel Yell"/"White Wedding" guy. But if they really listen to your catalog, it's vastly different.

Yeah, that's right. With someone like Steve Stevens, and then back in the day Keith Forsey producing... [Before that] Generation X actually did move around inside punk rock. We didn't stay doing just the Ramones two-minute music. We actually did a seven-minute song. [Laughs]. We did always mix things up. 

Then when I got into my solo career, that was the fun of it. With someone like Steve, I knew what he could do. I could see whatever we needed to do, we could nail it. The world was my oyster musically. 

"Cage" is a classic-sounding Billy Idol rocker, then "Running From The Ghost" is almost metal, like what the Devil's Playground album was like back in the mid-2000s. "Miss Nobody" comes out of nowhere with this pop/R&B flavor. What inspired that?

We really hadn't done anything like that since something like "Flesh For Fantasy" [which] had a bit of an R&B thing about it. Back in the early days of Billy Idol, "Hot In The City" and "Mony Mony" had girls [singing] on the backgrounds. 

We always had a bit of R&B really, so it was actually fun to revisit that. We just hadn't done anything really quite like that for a long time. That was one of the reasons to work with someone like Sam Hollander [for the song "Rita Hayworth"] on The Roadside. We knew we could go [with him] into an R&B world, and he's a great songwriter and producer. That's the fun of music really, trying out these things and seeing if you can make them stick. 

I listen to new music by veteran artists and debate that with some people. I'm sure you have those fans that want their nostalgia, and then there are some people who will embrace the newer stuff. Do you find it’s a challenge to reach people with new songs?

Obviously, what we're looking for is, how do we somehow have one foot in the past and one foot into the future? We’ve got the best of all possible worlds because that has been the modus operandi of Billy Idol. 

You want to do things that are true to you, and you don't just want to try and do things that you're seeing there in the charts today. I think that we're achieving it with things like "Running From The Ghost" and "Cage" on this new EP. I think we’re managing to do both in a way. 

**Obviously, "Running From The Ghost" is about addiction, all the stuff that you went through, and in "Cage" you’re talking about  freeing yourself from a lot of personal shackles. Was there any one moment in your life that made you really thought I have to not let this weigh me down anymore?**

I mean, things like the motorcycle accident I had, that was a bit of a wake up call way back. It was 32 years ago. But there were things like that, years ago, that gradually made me think about what I was doing with my life. I didn't want to ruin it, really. I didn't want to throw it away, and it made [me] be less cavalier. 

I had to say to myself, about the drugs and stuff, that I've been there and I've done it. There’s no point in carrying on doing it. You couldn't get any higher. You didn't want to throw your life away casually, and I was close to doing that. It took me a bit of time, but then gradually I was able to get control of myself to a certain extent [with] drugs and everything. And I think Steve's done the same thing. We're on a similar path really, which has been great because we're in the same boat in terms of lyrics and stuff. 

So a lot of things like that were wake up calls. Even having grandchildren and just watching my daughter enlarging her family and everything; it just makes you really positive about things and want to show a positive side to how you're feeling, about where you're going. We've lived with the demons so long, we've found a way to live with them. We found a way to be at peace with our demons, in a way. Maybe not completely, but certainly to where we’re enjoying what we do and excited about it.

[When writing] "Running From The Ghost" it was easy to go, what was the ghost for us? At one point, we were very drug addicted in the '80s. And Steve in particular is super sober [now]. I mean, I still vape pot and stuff. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but it’s incredible. All I want to be able to do is have a couple of glasses of wine at a restaurant or something. I can do that now.

I think working with people that are super talented, you just feel confident. That is a big reason why you open up and express yourself more because you feel comfortable with what's around you.

Did you watch Danny Boyle's recent Sex Pistols mini-series?

I did, yes.

You had a couple of cameos; well, an actor who portrayed you did. How did you react to it? How accurate do you think it was in portraying that particular time period?

I love Jonesy’s book, I thought his book was incredible. It's probably one of the best bio books really. It was incredible and so open. I was looking forward to that a lot.

It was as if [the show] kind of stayed with Steve [Jones’ memoir] about halfway through, and then departed from it. [John] Lydon, for instance, was never someone I ever saw acting out; he's more like that today. I never saw him do something like jump up in the room and run around going crazy. The only time I saw him ever do that was when they signed the recording deal with Virgin in front of Buckingham Palace. Whereas Sid Vicious was always acting out; he was always doing something in a horrible way or shouting at someone. I don't remember John being like that. I remember him being much more introverted.

But then I watched interviews with some of the actors about coming to grips with the parts they were playing. And they were saying, we knew punk rock happened but just didn't know any of the details. So I thought well, there you go. If ["Pistol" is]  informing a lot of people who wouldn't know anything about punk rock, maybe that's what's good about it.

Maybe down the road John Lydon will get the chance to do John's version of the Pistols story. Maybe someone will go a lot deeper into it and it won't be so surface. But maybe you needed this just to get people back in the flow.

We had punk and metal over here in the States, but it feels like England it was legitimately more dangerous. British society was much more rigid.

It never went [as] mega in America. It went big in England. It exploded when the Pistols did that interview with [TV host Bill] Grundy, that lorry truck driver put his boot through his own TV, and all the national papers had "the filth and the fury" [headlines].

We went from being unknown to being known overnight. We waited a year, Generation X. We even told them [record labels] no for nine months to a year. Every record company wanted their own punk rock group. So it went really mega in England, and it affected the whole country – the style, the fashions, everything. I mean, the Ramones were massive in England. Devo had a No. 1 song [in England] with "Satisfaction" in '77. Actually, Devo was as big as or bigger than the Pistols.

You were ahead of the pop-punk thing that happened in the late '90s, and a lot of it became tongue-in-cheek by then. It didn't have the same sense of rebelliousness as the original movement. It was more pop.

It had become a style. There was a famous book in England called Revolt Into Style — and that's what had happened, a revolt that turned into style which then they were able to duplicate in their own way. Even recently, Billie Joe [Armstrong] did his own version of "Gimme Some Truth," the Lennon song we covered way back in 1977.

When we initially were making [punk] music, it hadn't become accepted yet. It was still dangerous and turned into a style that people were used to. We were still breaking barriers.

You have a band called Generation Sex with Steve Jones and Paul Cook. I assume you all have an easier time playing Pistols and Gen X songs together now and not worrying about getting spit on like back in the '70s?

Yeah, definitely. When I got to America I told the group I was putting it together, "No one spits at the audience."

We had five years of being spat on [in the UK], and it was revolting. And they spat at you if they liked you. If they didn't like it they smashed your gear up. One night, I remember I saw blood on my T-shirt, and I think Joe Strummer got meningitis when spit went in his mouth.

You had to go through a lot to become successful, it wasn't like you just kind of got up there and did a couple of gigs. I don't think some young rock bands really get that today.

With punk going so mega in England, we definitely got a leg up. We still had a lot of work to get where we got to, and rightly so because you find out that you need to do that. A lot of groups in the old days would be together three to five years before they ever made a record, and that time is really important. In a way, what was great about punk rock for me was it was very much a learning period. I really learned a lot [about] recording music and being in a group and even writing songs.

Then when I came to America, it was a flow, really. I also really started to know what I wanted Billy Idol to be. It took me a little bit, but I kind of knew what I wanted Billy Idol to be. And even that took a while to let it marinate.

You and Miley Cyrus have developed a good working relationship in the last several years. How do you think her fans have responded to you, and your fans have responded to her?

I think they're into it. It's more the record company that she had didn't really get "Night Crawling"— it was one of the best songs on Plastic Hearts, and I don't think they understood that. They wanted to go with Dua Lipa, they wanted to go with the modern, young acts, and I don't think they realized that that song was resonating with her fans. Which is a shame really because, with Andrew Watt producing, it's a hit song.

But at the same time, I enjoyed doing it. It came out really good and it's very Billy Idol. In fact, I think it’s more Billy Idol than Miley Cyrus. I think it shows you where Andrew Watt was. He was excited about doing a Billy Idol track. She's fun to work with. She’s a really great person and she works at her singing — I watched her rehearsing for the Super Bowl performance she gave. She rehearsed all Saturday morning, all Saturday afternoon, and Sunday morning and it was that afternoon. I have to admire her fortitude. She really cares.

I remember when you went on "Viva La Bam" back in 2005 and decided to give Bam Margera’s Lamborghini a new sunroof by taking a power saw to it. Did he own that car? Was that a rental?

I think it was his car.

Did he get over it later on?

He loved it. [Laughs] He’s got a wacky sense of humor. He’s fantastic, actually. I’m really sorry to see what he's been going through just lately. He's going through a lot, and I wish him the best. He's a fantastic person, and it's a shame that he's struggling so much with his addictions. I know what it's like. It's not easy.

Musically, what is the synergy like with you guys during the past 10 years, doing Kings and Queens of the Underground and this new stuff? What is your working relationship like now in this more sober, older, mature version of you two as opposed to what it was like back in the '80s?

In lots of ways it’s not so different because we always wrote the songs together, we always talked about what we're going to do together. It was just that we were getting high at the same time.We're just not getting [that way now] but we're doing all the same things.

We're still talking about things, still [planning] things:What are we going to do next? How are we going to find new people to work with? We want to find new producers. Let's be a little bit more timely about putting stuff out.That part of our relationship is the same, you know what I mean? That never got affected. We just happened to be overloading in the '80s.

The relationship’s… matured and it's carrying on being fruitful, and I think that's pretty amazing. Really, most people don't get to this place. Usually, they hate each other by now. [Laughs] We also give each other space. We're not stopping each other doing things outside of what we’re working on together. All of that enables us to carry on working together. I love and admire him. I respect him. He's been fantastic. I mean, just standing there on stage with him is always a treat. And he’s got an immensely great sense of humor. I think that's another reason why we can hang together after all this time because we've got the sense of humor to enable us to go forward.

There's a lot of fan reaction videos online, and I noticed a lot of younger women like "Rebel Yell" because, unlike a lot of other '80s alpha male rock tunes, you're talking about satisfying your lover.

It was about my girlfriend at the time, Perri Lister. It was about how great I thought she was, how much I was in love with her, and how great women are, how powerful they are.

It was a bit of a feminist anthem in a weird way. It was all about how relationships can free you and add a lot to your life. It was a cry of love, nothing to do with the Civil War or anything like that. Perri was a big part of my life, a big part of being Billy Idol. I wanted to write about it. I'm glad that's the effect.

Is there something you hope people get out of the songs you've been doing over the last 10 years? Do you find yourself putting out a message that keeps repeating?

Well, I suppose, if anything, is that you can come to terms with your life, you can keep a hold of it. You can work your dreams into reality in a way and, look, a million years later, still be enjoying it.

The only reason I'm singing about getting out of the cage is because I kicked out of the cage years ago. I joined Generation X when I said to my parents, "I'm leaving university, and I'm joining a punk rock group." And they didn't even know what a punk rock group was. Years ago, I’d write things for myself that put me on this path, so that maybe in 2022 I could sing something like "Cage" and be owning this territory and really having a good time. This is the life I wanted.

The original UK punk movement challenged societal norms. Despite all the craziness going on throughout the world, it seems like a lot of modern rock bands are afraid to do what you guys were doing. Do you think we'll see a shift in that?

Yeah.  Art usually reacts to things, so I would think eventually there will be a massive reaction to the pop music that’s taken over — the middle of the road music, and then this kind of right wing politics. There will be a massive reaction if there's not already one. I don’t know where it will come from exactly. You never know who's gonna do [it].

Living Legends: Nancy Sinatra Reflects On Creating "Power And Magic" In Studio, Developing A Legacy Beyond "Boots" & The Pop Stars She Wants To Work With

Country music's evolution is well represented in the 2023 GRAMMY nominees for Best Country Solo Performance. From crossover pop hooks to red-dirt outlaw roots, the genre's most celebrated elements are on full display — thanks to rising stars, leading ladies and country icons.

Longtime hitmaker Miranda Lambert delivered a soulful performance on the rootsy ballad "In His Arms," an arrangement as sparing as the windswept west Texas highlands where she co-wrote the song. Viral newcomer Zach Bryan dug into similar organic territory on the Oklahoma side of the Red River for "Something in the Orange," his voice accompanied with little more than an acoustic guitar.

Two of country's 2010s breakout stars are clearly still shining, too, as Maren Morris and Kelsea Ballerini both received Best Country Solo Performance GRAMMY nods. Morris channeled the determination that drove her leap-of-faith move from Texas to Nashville for the playful clap-along "Circles Around This Town," while Ballerini brought poppy hooks with a country edge on the infectiously upbeat "HEARTFIRST."

Rounding out the category is the one and only Willie Nelson, who paid tribute to his late friend Billy Joe Shaver with a cover of "Live Forever" — a fitting sentiment for the 89-year-old legend, who is approaching his eighth decade in the business. 

As the excitement builds for the 2023 GRAMMYs on Feb. 5, 2023, let's take a closer look at this year's nominees for Best Country Solo Performance.

Kelsea Ballerini — "HEARTFIRST"

In the tradition of Shania Twain, Faith Hill and Carrie Underwood, Kelsea Ballerini represents Nashville's sunnier side — and her single "HEARTFIRST" is a slice of bright, uptempo, confectionary country-pop for the ages.

Ballerini sings about leaning into a carefree crush with her heart on her sleeve, pushing aside her reservations and taking a risk on love at first sight. The scene plays out in a bar room and a back seat, as she sweeps nimbly through the verses and into a shimmering chorus, when the narrator decides she's ready to "wake up in your T-shirt." 

There are enough steel guitar licks to let you know you're listening to a country song, but the story and melody are universal. "HEARTFIRST" is Ballerini's third GRAMMY nod, but first in the Best Country Solo Performance category.

Zach Bryan — "Something In The Orange"

Zach Bryan blew into Music City seemingly from nowhere in 2017, when his original song "Heading South" — recorded on an iPhone — went viral. Then an active officer in the U.S. Navy, the Oklahoma native chased his muse through music during his downtime, striking a chord with country music fans on stark songs led by his acoustic guitar and affecting vocals.

After his honorable discharge in 2021, Bryan began his music career in earnest, and in 2022 released "Something in the Orange," a haunting ballad that stakes a convincing claim to the territory between Tyler Childers and Jason Isbell in both sonics and songwriting. Slashing slide guitar drives home the song's heartbreak, as Bryan pines for a lover whose tail lights have long since vanished over the horizon. 

"Something In The Orange" marks Bryan's first-ever GRAMMY nomination.

Miranda Lambert — "In His Arms"

Miranda Lambert is the rare, chart-topping contemporary country artist who does more than pay lip service to the genre's rural American roots. "In His Arms" originally surfaced on 2021's The Marfa Tapes, a casual recording Lambert made with Jack Ingram and Jon Randall in Marfa, Texas — a tiny arts enclave in the middle of the west Texas high desert.

In this proper studio version — recorded for her 2022 album, Palomino — Lambert retains the structure and organic feel of the mostly acoustic song; light percussion and soothing atmospherics keep her emotive vocals front and center. A native Texan herself, Lambert sounds fully at home on "In His Arms."

Lambert is the only Best Country Solo Performance nominee who is nominated in all four Country Field categories in 2023. To date, Miranda Lambert has won 3 GRAMMYs and received 27 nominations overall. 

Maren Morris — "Circles Around This Town"

When Maren Morris found herself uninspired and dealing with writer's block, she went back to what inspired her to move to Nashville nearly a decade ago — and out came "Circles Around This Town," the lead single from her 2022 album Humble Quest.

Written in one of her first in-person songwriting sessions since the pandemic, Morris has called "Circles Around This Town" her "most autobiographical song" to date; she even recreated her own teenage bedroom for the song's video. As she looks back to her Texas beginnings and the life she left for Nashville, Morris' voice soars over anthemic, yet easygoing production. 

Morris last won a GRAMMY for Best Country Solo Performance in 2017, when her song "My Church" earned the singer her first GRAMMY. To date, Maren Morris has won one GRAMMY and received 17 nominations overall.

Willie Nelson — "Live Forever"

Country music icon Willie Nelson is no stranger to the GRAMMYs, and this year he aims to add to his collection of 10 gramophones. He earned another three nominations for 2023 — bringing his career total to 56 — including a Best Country Solo Performance nod for "Live Forever."

Nelson's performance of "Live Forever," the lead track of the 2022 tribute album Live Forever: A Tribute to Billy Joe Shaver, is a faithful rendition of Shaver's signature song. Still, Nelson puts his own twist on the tune, recruiting Lucinda Williams for backing vocals and echoing the melody with the inimitable tone of his nylon-string Martin guitar. 

Shaver, an outlaw country pioneer who passed in 2020 at 81 years old, never had any hits of his own during his lifetime. But plenty of his songs were still heard, thanks to stars like Elvis Presley, Kris Kristofferson and Waylon Jennings. Nelson was a longtime friend and frequent collaborator of Shaver's — and now has a GRAMMY nom to show for it.

2023 GRAMMY Nominations: See The Complete Nominees List