It only makes sense that musician Maria Isa would eventually become a politician. Born and raised in St. Paul, she has municipal engagement in her blood. The newly elected Rep. María Isa Pérez-Vega, serving District 65B in the Minnesota House of Representatives, is the daughter of the first Latina appointed to direct the office of equal opportunity by former Gov. Rudy Perpich. Speaking the language of the people has aided her prolific career as a youth worker, as an activist, and, especially, as a rapper. 

The same day Maria Isa was sworn into office, she also released a hip-hop EP, Capitolio, inspired by her campaign run, motherhood, community, and day-to-day living. The action serves as a bold statement to the public: music and diversity are what she represents — and she is here to see those entities thrive and flourish. 

Local Show host Diane spoke in-depth with Isa about her relationship with hip-hop and community, and what motivated her to run for office. 

Transcript edited for clarity and length.

It is Diane here, host of The Local Show on The Current. Sitting across from me is Maria Isa, hip-hop artist; and also just sworn in as state representative for Minnesota in our district. And is now just kind of making history. Talk to me about how you're feeling.

It's been a week. And I will tell you that I feel like we're in movement for our people. I feel like the goals that were set from those that have survived so much, in my lifetime and beyond the years of my life, are actually seeing what hip-hop gave birth to. And so it's about time that there is a hip-hop artist sworn into office. It's about time that there's any field of work that's coming from our BIPOC community leadership that are taking those steps. We were appointed by the people. So whether you're a teacher — and I'm a youth worker — whether you're a lawyer, whether you're a doctor, whether you are a customer service rep, you are a citizen that has the ability to choose to run for office. I was answering a call of action for my community and my people, and in particular, the hip-hop community that has raised me.

It's so exciting too because artists aren't always viewed as professionals and people that contribute to society in ways that give immense value. And so sometimes look at — "What's a hip-hop artist doing in politics?" It's like, are you kidding me? How much does music mean to our community and how much value and economic stability it adds. I think a lot of us here in the music community, myself included, are celebrating and are so happy. And you dropped an album the same day you were sworn in. That is so rad. Capitolio.

Yup, you got it. Capitolio. It means “capitol” in Spanish, like the building. Not like the profit, but the building, the location, the symbol of the people, this house.

And it's an eight song hip-hop record. Fierce, amazing. 

Thank you.

Dance music, soul. Of course it has Puerto Rican influences, and is also a bilingual album. Tell me more of the inspiration behind this record.

The inspiration was the campaign run, and just also reminding myself to hold on to myself and hold on to my people and my daughter. There's a song called "Nena" that I dedicate to her and to the little girl that lives in me still – not to let go of what you've survived as a child, as a young girl, and now as a woman and a mother. Running for office — she was my inspiration. I live in the district that I represent. My entire life I've lived here. I love my community. And now she's born and raised in this space that I have been appointed by the people of my district. And I was appointed by the people of my district because I believe in people. I believe in diversity. And I believe in democracy. And I believe in her to have opportunities that we're still fighting for. I believe in her and all children that deserve equity, that deserve safety, that deserves opportunity. And Capitolio is also a reflection of women empowerment and having fun. You could be in politics or working policy, you could be working at the club. It's all politics. It's all economics. It's all justice. It's all trying to just live your life to the highest potential and as peaceful as possible. And being a human being, it's human rights. So being an artist for me is my right, and defending a community of people in so many different backgrounds, so many different sectors, but also so many different career paths. 

Artistry and being a professional artist has to be respected. And this is a step of that. This is a step of saying to all the teachers that told me, "You're never going to do anything. Stop messing around writing — what are these raps?" And tearing down my Nas posters in my locker room. All of those things is like, "Nah, we're here." Hip-hop is a culture of the people, and it is me. It is Puerto Rican, it is Black. It is all the shades of representation. It's vogue, it's diversity. It's queer, it's love. And it's survival. And so Capitolio is all of that. It's a decade of me — I shouldn't say decade. It's been over a decade since I've been in this hip-hop community. But it's a reflection of where I believe women and non-binary folks that are now elected into positions of leadership, have a way to celebrate that. And that's what Capitolio is. It's like, let's legalize what we need to legalize. Let's fight for what we demand. And let's have a clean environment while we could groove at the club after legislation passes.

I want to get more into music specifically. I think of hip-hop as such a powerful genre of music, especially because it kind of has a — well, it's edgy. And there's an unapologetic aspect of hip-hop that's so fierce and in your face, and so tough. And that's one reason why I'm attracted to it too. And it also represents that diversity, for me as a person who's BIPOC and queer. I've always been attracted to it. And I want to hear more of your connection with this specific genre because you own it so well.

Oh my gosh, thank you. Wow. Well, it's been a wild ride. Especially coming from the Twin Cities hip-hop scene. Especially coming from being a woman of color, especially being bilingual, and all these boxes that they want to check us off. And the inequities of surviving a culture that has been uplifted and owned by patriarchy without understanding where it was born from. I know hip-hop to be woman. I know the symbolism of Rosie Perez being the first hip-hop choreographer to get a check from a label as a hip-hop choreographer by Def Jam touring with LL Cool J and inventing the famous Bobby Brown — you know, everybody knows the Bobby Brown pump. And I know hip-hop too, before that, being Sylvia Robinson, who is the president of Sugar Hill Records and the producer of the Sugar Hill Gang. There would be no "Rapper's Delight" without a woman. And I'm like, this is all the equations of what that means and the dominance of empowerment of women of color and survival. And it's just so magical to be in this presence, because the people believe in it. The people are hip-hop. And that's what this album is. 

For folks who's like, "Well, you got a song like 'Bad Chicks.' You talkin' heavy." I'm like, yeah, because I have that right. That is the First Amendment. I have the freedom of speech. "Well, you talk about calling St. Paul, St. Philando." I was like, yeah, because Philando died. He was tragically killed. And he was someone that I personally knew that was a leader for nutrition for children in our education system. So if you call Paul of the Bible a saint, somebody labeled him as a saint for what he did, I will tell you Philando did a lot more to benefit my community than Paul did. So let's talk about what symbolism means to our children who are surviving an education system that needs funding, who are surviving the aftermath of Big Floyd, who we knew personally, being killed by somebody who worked in the same spaces as us. 

So it may just be a groove and a dance for folks who don't understand where we come from in the state or in Twin Cities, St. Paul, Minneapolis. But for those of us that are here, and that have been living through it, or that have been at a hip-hop show, that want to know how to build a studio in their closet so that they can financially afford it because they can't afford studio time. Because that was me, recording in the closet with little microphones or Fisher Price mics and recording your demos on there. You can do that. And you can demand your respect. And let's try to help opportunities for folks who believe in the arts, just as much as they're trying to pass standardized testing. Nah, F that. Let's capture how we can help these children like the kid that was in me, and now the kid in my daughter, the best ways that they want to learn it. Music and arts is such a point of the mountaintop for all of the other things in this agenda from education to health to healing to economics to housing. So we bring in hip-hop to the house.

And I just got to point out that the opening monologue in Capitolio is with the legendary Bernie Sanders, such a grassroots hero to so many folks, and I know especially in Minnesota. Gosh, to know that you've built relationships with so many important figures and are continuing to do so. But also, I just was like, that's incredible having Bernie so passionately knowing your power and passing on his wisdom to you in almost like a rapper way. He was just like, "Tell them to go F themselves."

It was real. Yeah, I opened up (for him) when he was running for president at his rally. It was one of the last performances before COVID shut the whole world down. Like literally right after that. Yeah, we shut the world down. It was March of 2020. He was running for president and his camp hit me up to open up, and I rocked it with my DJ — shout out to Tony Trouble — and because of his support for what I believe in. And then flash forward to two years after that, I decide to run for office, and my mentor [Attorney General Keith] Ellison in our community and what he stands for, the people, and everybody counts, everybody matters. What do you do? Well, we do a tour. And well, you can't do a tour without music. And the support of that coming from our camps was just awesome. Shout out to DJ Sophia Eris who's been such a strong support of all my work for years, and (DJ) Keezy. Everybody's touring, getting back. Eris is touring with Lizzo, and you're watching their Instagram stories, and she's watching me hitting the doors and getting with the kids and doing what we do, and then all of a sudden, they're like, "Well, how are you managing to do this?" And I'm like, I'm keeping the music together. 

But what I realized is folks like Bernie want music too. They want to continue to support everything that is humanity. And whether it's Bernie Sanders, or 10 years ago, 12 years ago, working with youth and touring with Nobel Peace laureates that I learned so much from —  Rigoberta Menchú. Rest in peace to Reverend Tutu. You've got the president of Costa Rica, Óscar Arias Sánchez. You've got all of these folks that have been influential to my artwork that I have opened up their keynote addresses. Dan Rather, the journalists of the world, with hip-hop. And with my music, it's all coming together. It feels like there's hope with hip-hop. 

Did you know that you were gonna eventually run for office?

I didn't. It's always been embedded. My mom was the first Latina appointed by Governor Rudy Perpich, by the state of Minnesota, to direct offices of equal opportunity. So when I was in her womb, that was her job. And then when I had my daughter in my womb, I was a part of the community equity project out of the Wilder Foundation that takes BIPOC community into the capitol to teach us about policy and how it works. And I'm an alumni of that. And I'll tell you, after I had my daughter, and after being around such amazing leadership that looked like me, that come from where I come from, and that support each other from medical fields to everything, and helping out with the Insulin Act and giving testimony. That was the trigger of like, time is now, time is here. Let's go. So I didn't see myself as doing this. I've been working an independent label my entire career.

And you don't just talk the talk, you walk the walk. You were just sworn in and already are working to get the Driver's License for All legislation passed.

Well, we're working on it. We just definitely got through our first hearing committee of transportation less than 24 hours ago. But we've got a few different other committees, but we're gonna get it. I mean, I talk the talk. So I'm talking.

In a nutshell, explain what that means, the Driver's License For All.

Driver's License For All means that undocumented folks and undocumented Minnesotans in our immigrant community have the accessibility to have a driver's license to be able to drive legally. Our immigrant community, our undocumented folks are our parents, our students, the leaders in our economy, are in so many different sectors of work, and help build Minnesota. They're Minnesotans. They just don't have citizenship, but they are such a big part of Minnesota that they deserve to get their children safe to school, or to emergency aid, or get themselves legally trained just like everybody else who's in a vehicle. So this only helps human rights as a human right, and it also helps our economy. Let's do it.

There's got to be this balance between being an artist, and I think you're probably still exploring this. How do you balance maintaining this professionalism between being a politician and being an artist?

The balance comes from finding space for yourself to reflect; but also, yes, it's only been a week. I mean, there's the difference of a campaign trail and recording and writing, which is difficult to find time. But shout out to producer Ymmi/Perfect Noize for making sure that I have a space to do that, and that I can still be what I've challenged myself to be. And there's also the importance of my daughter and balancing. And I have great parents — I have a great mother and phenomenal father who have always been supportive, even challenging. Because it's a challenge, right? But they have been supportive of doing what's best for the community. And my daughter is my village, and she's number one. And I conversated with my community to be like, how can I help her? And this is the next step, how can I help others like her. And I have a village of support, my family and my community. It takes a village for real. 

And so we all just doing our role right now and trying to figure this out. It's a new transition for not just me, but also my daughter, and my parents who have been supportive of making sure that she's safe while I'm here in these spaces as well. And my campaign and my friends. Real recognize real. And taking time to make sure that there is time for yourself. That was very important with this project. I literally won my campaign and was like, alright, I'm not door knocking. But that time that I spent door knocking, Ymmi's like, "We got to get the door knocks now in the bars and in studio." And so we got it in. And bringing folks like Bernie into that, like, can I do this? Yeah! You better do that. You know, you'll hear it on the first track, Tio Bernie. That means Uncle Bernie, tio. 

And then folks in the city to state to national politics that have been really supportive. They're like, "We needed this. We're listening to this. We're bumping this." People next to my office, my other colleagues that I'm just getting to know, and you walk out of your office and you hear your music, and you're like, oh, this is kind of weird, but it's also like, that's love. Thank you for making me feel home. Because it's a very big intimidating space. But it also is a space that I'm familiar with. It's been something that I look at every day, because I've been in this district every day. The capitol is in my district, and I love my city. And I love this state. Being born in Minnesota is crazy. So much things have been in like a tornado my entire life here. But there's opportunity here. And there's a strong sense of opportunity and with people who are still connected to hope. That's why there's so many doors opening, and we just got to make sure that we stay open and continue to build and not take things for granted and not slip so that those doors fall down. Or the Encanto house — I feel like Mirabel at that house trying to keep it from falling. 

Yeah, it's the most diverse legislature that Minnesota has seen.

Yeah, shout out to the trifecta class.

Before we wrap, tell me about your thoughts on the evolution of hip-hop's sound. You've been in this scene for a long time and hip-hop seems to be taking so many different identities. And I feel like you're someone who's embraced the old school ‘90s hip-hop boom-bap beats to embracing like the real fierce trap stuff. I want to hear your thoughts a little bit on hip-hop.

It's jazz. Hip-hop is bomba. It's African. Yes, Latina. It's culture. It's soup. It's rice. It's noodles. So you get to play with different flavors. And that's what I always do. Growing up, the labels would be like, "Why don't you do this? And maybe we can talk about it." And I was like, nah, because that's me. So I guess I'm not gonna be labeled. I will do my own thing. And Doc McKinney, shout out to one of my mentors, he produces the Weeknd, he produces everybody. But Doc has been really influential for me to just say, "Be yourself." And the night that I won, he was like, "You never got signed to a major label because you created your own label, and you never let it stop you, and keep doing you." And so that's what this is. 

I feel like I'm like HOV and Beyoncé. Bey can go sing a ballad, and then she could rap better than her husband on it. And so like, nobody is skeptical, like, "Well, Beyoncé just stick to an R&B record." Like, no, I'm an artist, man. Literally, I paint with my drums and I paint with my lyrics and my bars. And I also do art. I'm a graphic artist too. I did the cover of the album. And that was all me. So that's how the record sounds. It might be all over the place, but it got something for each policy member. It's got something for each mama out there. For everybody who wants to go through whatever. You want to fly a plane? You got that. You want to ride in the whip? You got that. You want to take a cruise? You got that. You just want to chill, kick it in the sauna? It's the vibe.

Well, I also want to add, you sing beautifully too ... from the soul. And I love the Annie Lennox (nod) ... I'm just like wait a second?

That's right. Thank you. And that's hip-hop, like ‘80s, ‘90s, early 2000s. I was born in the ‘80s. And I was raised by the ‘90s and the early 2000s. And that's just what it is. You would listen to Sade. And you would listen to Gloria Estefan. And you had to clean when Mama had Mary J. Blige. It's Sunday, go clean. And Salt-N-Pepa. It's just like what the diversity is in my music is, is what the diversity of our world is. And that's what hip-hop is. It's global communications. 

Well, thank you so much, Maria Isa, for being here with me on The Current's Local Show. Anything else you'd like to add we might not have covered?

Just to everybody tuning in, thank you for supporting the movement and the music. And for those that want to learn how you can support your local artists' movement, there's ways and means of doing that. So feel free to reach out to those leaders that are out there fighting for our equity and rights of artistic means. Gracias, and thank you for what you do. I see you.

Aw, thank you. It means a lot to me.

On a frosty Friday night, concertgoers young and old crowded the historic First Avenue floor, shedding winter coats and stomping snow off their shoes. Hosted in conjunction by local radio stations The Current, Radio K, KFAI, and 93X, First Avenue’s Best New Bands is a continuance of a mid-’80s tradition. This time, seven emerging acts took to the main stage and performed for their lives.

Recent Minneapolis transplant Raffaella kicked off the evening with a grungier take on her wry, polished pop. Accompanied by frequent collaborator Jake Luppen (of Hippo Campus fame) on bass, Sara L’Abriola (“Hank”) on guitar, and Joey Hays on drums, the singer-songwriter channeled early-’90s and aughts angst, breathy vocals descending into sighs and shouts. A wiry, tremulous presence onstage, Raffaella flitted across the dais in theatrical fits and bursts. Standout tracks “BLONDE” and “GROWN UP” had her, in turns, dropping into splits, clutching at Luppen’s legs, or kicking in time to the drums. “I wrote some of these songs when I was absolutely devastated,” Raffaella confided to the audience. “I thought nothing had meaning. Minneapolis has given me meaning. I’m beyond honored to be here tonight.

Up next, with a heady mix of African highlife, reggaeton, and R&B, Nigerian producer and multi-instrumentalist Obi Original brought his electrifying take on Afro-fusion to the masses. An effortless performer, Obi danced, leaped, and belted his way through a groove-heavy set, with seamless audience calls-and-responses. Joined later on by Kion Rose, as well as Bakarii and Ch!nwe of pan-African group Ozone Creations, the group’s chemistry was undeniable in songs “Fanta” and “Unknown Banga 001.” My favorite moment? Obi’s calls to the crowd to “get low” were met with little resistance – then an endearing, but awkwardly Midwestern, scramble to get back up.

Minneapolis-based artist Mike Kota’s set posed a stark contrast. A less danceable, more contemplative follow-up, Kota’s bare bones lyricism and wrenching vocals set an intimate scene: “Keep me alive, keep me sweet/Tell me something new to put my mind at ease.“ “This is a night of firsts for me,” Kota told the crowd in between songs. “This is my first night on the First Avenue main stage. This is my first time with a live band… and I haven’t shit my pants yet.” Her acerbic humor was welcome levity. Kota’s true prowess lies in her deft guitarwork and production ability, with songs like “Rift” and “It’s Not Serious” studies in understated, gorgeous harmony. With the excellent closer, unreleased track “Dragonfly,” she dissolved into wails, a crescendo of guitars following suit.

Carbon Sound favorite killusonline’s ferocious 30-minute set provided a much-needed jolt of adrenaline in Friday’s proceedings. Self-described as “chaotic-death-grind-rap-core,” the local group’s experimental mesh of hip-hop and hardcore roused a sense of contained anarchy in the crowd, and bodies slammed against each other in an ever-present mosh. Riotous tracks “Floor Pedal” and “Inside Out” sent drummer Theo Galetka’s drumsticks flying up in shards, all the while vocalist Mory prowled the stage amidst throttling bass.

Folk-rock group Harlow proved considerably mellower, playing a summery, wistful mix of old, new, and unreleased. A quiet folk tune “Palo Alto,” my personal favorite, comes off their latest EP, Other Lives, Told, but the band was remarkably diverse in their offerings, veering from straightforward country to arena-ready rock.

Coming off a landmark year, four-piece indie group Creeping Charlie took the stage with aplomb, their distortion-laden tunes echoing the likes of Metric and the Greeting Committee. With recent gigs opening for Shamir and Landon Conrath, as well as a December residency at Amsterdam Bar & Hall, the band’s feedback-laced songs were easy crowd hits, “quiet” and “GTFO” particularly primed for head-bopping. The words “WEAPON OF MASS CONSTRUCTION” are etched across lead singer/guitarist Julia Eubanks’ Fender, and the description feels apt: Creeping Charlie’s compositions are complexly architected, riff-heavy works.

Closing out the night, Brotherhood of Birds, a seven-piece (!) Twin Cities-based bluegrass group powered through a lean assortment of songs. Replete with a standing bass, mandolin, banjo, and fiddle, the group was true to its Americana roots, playing selections from their 2021 EPs Caged Vol. 1 & 2.

All in all? Best New Bands was a rousing success, a night primed to dance with friends, nurse a cold drink or two, and discover some new music. Three days later, my eardrums are still shot. It was more than worth it.

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Twin Cities rapper Student 1 took made a seismic return to the scene with the release of his latest album. A follow-up to 2019’s UPPRCLSSMN, which featured collaborations with Tierra Whack and Mick Jenkins, OFFTHEDUST! was originally set to come out before the pandemic began, but was put on hold until this past October.

In conversation, Student 1 and his best friend and manager, Alec Coines, discuss the album, music video strategy, and the secret behind his nonstop energy.

When did your musical journey begin? 

Student 1: Shortly after high school. When I graduated, I was already writing shit in my notebook all the time, or just random beats, but I didn't really have a name. I just knew I liked making music. I was halfway through getting my associate's at this community college that I lived at, and shit just started to feel hard. I felt not focused. A lot of the reason I was at college is because I'm a first-generation American in my family. So my parents really wanted that for me. But the more and more that I felt like all of my efforts kind of going into a different direction, I was just like, "All right, Mom, I'm dropping out." That was not an easy talk. “Don't worry, Mom, because this is my school now.”

I didn't know that you were of African background. Where's your family from?

Student 1: My mom is from Ethiopia. She moved to America when she was 17 by herself to make money and send to the family. And then my dad is half Ethiopian, half Eritrean. And I don't really know much about his side of the family because his parents passed away when he was really young. So it's like Ethiopian-Eritrean. Those are my African roots.

How did you decide upon the stage name Student 1?

Student 1: Part of it was, symbolically, a nod towards the conversation me and my mom had about me dropping out. And she's just like, "What are you going to learn so you can do well for yourself in the future?” And it just felt funny telling my mom, “Imma rap.” I wanted to give my mom the opportunity to look at it through a lens where I'm still learning things. But at the same time, lI thought it was fitting because my head was just in multiple places anytime I was at Alec [Coines]'s house... I'd want to make like one type of record, like an old-school, like ’90s-type beat. And then maybe the next day, I'd want to make something over some Travis Scott Metro Boomin shit. And then like a year ago, I made “Nippy.” I'm ready to learn it all.

Alec, you manage Student 1, but you have a much deeper friendship. How did that form?

Alec Coines: It started in high school, just as homies. I don't know the exact moment I was like, "Yo, this dude really got it." I just always knew that if he tried, he could actually like make it in this rap shit. Eventually, I was just like, "Bro, we gotta go for this." My mindset was always just like, if he creates the music, I can like do everything that's in the background – like figure out how to get the music heard and seen by the people.

Which high school did you guys attend?

Student 1: I went to two, because I grew up in south Minneapolis. So I went to South High for a little bit, for freshman and sophomore year, and then I met Alec at Simley High School in Inver Grove Heights.

Talk to me about your creative dynamic? What are studio sessions like? 

Student 1: Before I even go into the studio, I look over what I have in my notes on my phone, or just in my notebook, because sometimes the idea will start to grow before I can even put it into a song structure. And I'll be like, "Oh, that's a good line, like, oh, that fits the theme," and then eventually I'll have like 30-40 some bars that kind of give me a good enough start to lay something down. And I'll think about what it fits with. And then I'll take a stab at it. And if it doesn't work, I'll probably just smoke and come back and try it over something else. But if that doesn't work out, then I'll immediately just scrap what I'm doing and just start something new. 

I feel like Alec is better at focusing than I am. He be on go mode when he's ready to work. There is nothing in his way. Whereas, I need time to get back on the ball. 

You released a new album, OFFTHEDUST!, in October. What's the project about? 

Student 1: Just like aggressively energetic. We didn't hold back at all. Before I met [the album’s primary producer] Cory, aka letmode, I didn't really like have a footing. Like with regards to what I liked on the production side of things. I just know that shit sometimes slap. Sometimes it don't and we'll just figure it out from there. But then I met Cory. And like, he has his own style. But it's like, it's insane to me.

Working with him was like a healthy exercise. I feel like because of that this album is going to be like me just comfortably yelling more. And just pushing the pen a little harder and working on my melodies. And that's not to say that I'm not gonna go any harder. I'm just saying like it's definitely my best work.

Where does your Energizer Bunny energy come from and how do you bottle it in?

Student 1: Being an only child growing up, I just had to entertain myself. I wish I had a brother or sister around me, but I was just alone playing the game. And in my head. I was like, “This is chill, so I learned how to entertain myself hella quick.” I was just always active growing up. When I started going to college, I started taking Adderall because I wasn't paying attention. And then I was just like "What if I just take Adderall and go make music?" I knew I had this side of me that if I liked something, I could really focus in on it and just just do just be really good at it. I remember I was in seventh grade I literally liked Guitar Hero so much that I became like top 15 on the leaderboards of the world for multiple songs. And who's to say I can't do that with anything else?

Alec, on Twitter, you wrote that this was the hardest and longest album that you both worked on together. Why is that?

Alec Coines: Mostly, it's just because I think the first song we finished it like three and a half years ago. And yeah, the album is just coming out now. We were originally gonna release it before COVID. It was supposed to be like March or April 2020. We were gonna go on tour with Prof and thought we were gonna drop the album as a thing before the tour. We had brand new songs and all that. But then COVID happened. So then it was kind of like, no one was watching for new music.

Student 1: I don't even even think we were thinking about music. When that happened, we basically hit pause and just tried to figure it out. 

Alec Coines: Even though it led to it taking longer to come out. I think it was definitely for the best. The album sounds insane now.

Who have been your biggest inspirations as an artist?

Student 1: I'm not going to cap, I'll put Ye up there. I'll put Doom up there. I'll put Doom very, very high up there. Rest in peace, Doom. I put Lupe Fiasco up there. I don't talk about him enough. I don't think people give this man his flowers enough. And I think he's in my top three of all time. He had me looking into his genius lyric things for like random songs. And he would just have hidden triple entendres for no reason, just in the calmest voice. I loved Eyedea, rest in peace Eyedea. Just one of the coldest motherfuckers out of the Minnesota scene for me of all time. Production-wise, I love old boom bap shit just because I listened to like so much Doom, Atmosphere, Aesop Rock and shit. I love that, but as of now I've been ficking with like JPEGMAFIA's production and just how insane he be. I'd also put SOPHIE... Starrah is probably like a top-tier inspiration for me.

What's your creative process for making music videos? 

Student 1: When it comes to like music video ideas, they're few and far in between for me, personally. I have homies that just give me an idea and I'm just like, "Oh, I think we could run with that." Where my input comes in is more how I execute on camera. But like I'm a big fan of symbolic things. So I'll just think about little additions that are just like little trinkets to fit with the theme. So like the song, “Kites,” we have a kite, and we're flying it around. And that's not like a super deep symbolism or anything, but I just think that that's cool for a video. But as far as just seeing the vision for the music videos, I feel like that's mostly like, Alec, my friend Justus, my friend, Eric. We literally just got back from a trip to Montana to shoot for the “Kites” music video. We just woke up every day, early in the morning, went out into the mountains and didn't come back until 8 p.m. And I was just like, holy shit, we just did so much.

I've been seeing Montana as a destination for artists, especially hip hop artists, in the last few years. Like, what is it about that state that just inspires musicians?

Student 1: I'm not gonna lie to you, bro. At first, I didn't want to go. But we've driven through Montana multiple times to go to Portland or California and it's been beautiful and we were like, "You know what? Let's come back here." I forgot whose suggestion it was to go to Montana, but it was honestly the best idea. It's one thing driving through it, but we have a homie that lives there. And he was just like, "Bro, y'all have to come here. I will show you the mountains." And we were all like, "Let's go see the mountains."

What do you envision for the future of Student 1?

Student 1: Coming out of the pandemic, I'm in a better headspace now. Which is good, because part of the reason I was not very active for a while was because I was just figuring my own shit out. I had to sort that out or otherwise, I'm not really gonna have the energy that I feel is sufficient to work on my craft. So, I feel for the future, just because I feel like in a better headspace, the sky's the limit. As far as I'm concerned, I have like more projects. I have another project that I'm almost done with right now, after OFFTHEDUST! And hopefully, that's all going to be produced by me, first time that's ever happened. I feel like I've just been dormant the past two years here, just because I'm not trying to get sick. 

This past Saturday, Kendrick Lamar made his triumphant return to St. Paul’s Xcel Energy Center. His last visit was 2017’s tour for his Pulitzer Prize-winning album, DAMN. Known for his clever, poetic, and sometimes acerbic lyricism, the rapper returned to Minnesota on the heels of his fifth album release, Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers. He brought to the stage composed vulnerability, a wealth of symbolism, and a wildly impressive light show. Additionally, he brought along opening acts that garnered nearly as much enthusiasm from the crowd.

The first act of the night was 24-year-old Avante Ramone Santana, who performs under the name Tanna Leone. Leone was signed in March to Lamar’s pgLang, a multimedia, multi-disciplinary artist collective. After witnessing the way he commanded the large, t-shaped stage alone and whipped the crowd into a frenzy during his brief 15-minute set, there’s no wondering why Lamar scooped him up. The rapper drew an especially big reaction from the crowd to his song “Lucky” from his pgLang debut album, Sleepy Soldier. His moody melodies over a trap beat had the crowd bouncing along as he bounded onstage in a Dickies jumpsuit, neck draped in a thick gold chain while slot machine symbols like lucky 7’s, diamonds, and doves flashed behind him.

Following Leone was Baby Keem, Lamar’s cousin. Born Hykeem Jamaal Carter Jr., Keem is a well-recognized rapper in his own right, as was evidenced by the crowd's reaction when he appeared onstage. At the beginning of his roughly half-hour set, there were parallels in Keem’s voice and cadence to his cousin Lamar, but as the set wore on, he settled into his groove.

Although many of his songs from the set were about women he used to date or wanted to sleep with, there were also moments of vulnerability. These were the songs that allowed Keem to emerge from behind the wall of expectation of hyper-masculine bravado perpetuated by pop culture, rap music, and often society as a whole. One such song he proclaimed his favorite off of his 2021 album, The Melodic Blue, called “Issues,” demonstrated this. The screen behind him featured the image of a wistful-looking woman looking out of a rainy window while he was spitting bars about the troubled relationship he has with his mother, abandonment, and his struggle to not repeat the same patterns in his own life with friends. He sang over a stark, clicking beat and delicate keys, “How could I resent you? Demons, they test you,” perhaps as much to his mother as himself. Not to be too sentimental, Keem closed his set with this breakout hit with a tinkling earworm rhythm, “Orange Soda,” a raunchy and playful track about his desire for his girlfriend — and distaste for her best friend.

Thick, heady clouds of weed smoke perfumed the air before Lamar took the stage. Young adults and parents with teens made up most of the attendees on the floor, and the crowd grew antsy as a curtain dropped around the main part of the stage before Lamar’s set. The lights dimmed, and the crowd quieted as the nearly hymnal-sounding singing of the opening of “United in Grief” played. Strings were plucked while men dressed in black and women in white pinstriped suits emerged onstage, shoulders bobbing and synchronizing their claps while the curtain rose to show the stage set like the opening act of a play, alluding to the theatric, moody, and artistic performance we were about to see. 

The stage was stark and open with Kendrick seated at the piano with his back to the audience with a ventriloquist dummy perched atop looking out into the crowd. He mimed playing the keys to “United in Grief” while spitting rapid-fire lines as four dancers draped over a sofa watched nearby. They departed shortly before he walked the dummy to center stage to perform “N95,” its mouth moving, reiterating that the night ahead would be full of surreal, emotive displays while frenetic drums carried the Kid A-reminiscent electronic tones. 

It seems everything Kendrick Lamar puts out for fans to enjoy is with much thought and intention, and the Big Steppers tour attested to this, from the dancers and the lights, to the voiceover of Helen Mirren acting as his subconscious, narrator, ego-checker, or all of the above, to even his outfit. Lamar was decked out and dapper in a black suit and a sequined glove on his left-hand ala one of his musical idols Michael Jackson. He sported jewel-encrusted sunglasses and had a gold earring dripping with diamonds firmly attached to his right ear. Although a lavish look, he kept a navy blue bandanna knotted around his neck, an acknowledgment that he keeps his Compton roots close to his heart.

Throughout the night, dancers added another layer of drama. Sometimes they were merely employed to bear witness, at others, their movements were used as tools to convey emotion. During “Mr. Morale,” they ran in place while the bass blasted, sometimes ducking or covering their faces in defensive positions. Women in drapey red mesh dresses surrounded Lamar during “Die Hard” and led him around the stage while he sang about setting his demons straight and seemed to act as personifications of his complicated feelings about love, temptation, and desire when they encircled him around a bed during “Lust.” 

Other portions of the show were equally as visually arresting as the dancers. Images on the screen behind Lamar were used to show his dreams and nightmares: angel wings, spiders, chains of bondage. Later, as Lamar crouched on stage to perform “Count Me Out,” behind him on the screen cleverly showed his shadow with arrows in his back, seemingly to convey the not-so-subtle feeling that even when he looks like he’s managing just fine externally, his shadow-self still absorbs each blow he’s dealt.

The song lineup brilliantly addressed both his internal and external struggles with “Father Time,” where he sang about his daddy issues. Immediately following, images of Compton, cars, and piles of money flashed on the screen during“m.A.A.d. city,” a throwback to the chaotic environment in which he was raised. During “Money Trees,” the shadow of palms fell across the stadium onto the crowd while live guitar added an additional gritty groove. Later, Lamar was issued a simulated COVID test by HAZMAT-suited people before performing “Alright,” then was lifted into the air on a column with reflective panels while he sang “Mirror” in the quarantine box piped full of smoke. 

The Big Steppers album showcases Kendrick Lamar’s deep self-reflection during the pandemic. It explores themes of intergenerational trauma and misogyny, and it pulled out thorny, intimate songs. The astounding visual storytelling and introspection presented for Saturday night’s show proved that Lamar is far from losing creative steam. At the same time, the tour certified his equal commitment to continue diving deeper into his creative self, much to the benefit of all of his fans. 

Setlist

United in Grief

N95

ELEMENT.

Worldwide Steppers

Backseat Freestyle

Rich Spirit

HUMBLE. 

Rich (Interlude)

Father Time

m.A.A.d. city

We Cry Together (Snippet)

Purple Hearts

King Kunta

LOYALTY. 

Swimming Pools (Drank)

Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe

Die Hard

LUST. (Snippet)

DNA.

Count Me Out

Money Trees

LOVE.

Alright

Mirror

Silent Hill

vent (w/Baby Keem)

range brothers (w/Baby Keem)

family ties (w/Baby Keem)

Crown

Mr. Morale (w/Tanna Leone)

Savior

Zodiak is a 19-year-old artist from Minneapolis, Minnesota. His music sounds like being lifted into a tornado. It lifts you out of your seat, spins you around, and makes you dizzy. “Demoneyes” from his 2021 project “Blööddungeøn” hits your ears like a ton of bricks. It holds you underwater for its entire length and will leave you gasping for air. 

Cacophonous echoes, frenetic and saccharine synth leads, and extreme vocal performances have set his sound apart from others in the local music scene. He’s also known for his mosh-heavy live performances. Even the rehearsal for his upcoming show got so loud that the police threatened him with a noise citation.  

Ahead of his new release “Lust,” Zodiak and his close friend and booking agent Sebas spoke with Carbon Sound Content Director Julian Green to discuss Zodiak’s ethos as an artist, the intentions and process behind “Lust,” and the “Lust” release party that will take place in Minneapolis on Friday, July 8th. 

Note: This interview has been edited for length and clarity. 

How did you get started in music? 

What originally made me start was being a fan of Tyler (the Creator) as a youngin’ and seeing how he started making music. He just downloaded a program and started making beats. So, I downloaded FL Studio when I was like 12 and I started making beats. Then I started recording myself, eventually.  

Music is the only thing that makes me genuinely happy. Of course, other things in life make me happy, but music is the one thing I can turn to at any time and find genuine joy in. Whether it's just listening to music or making music, just any part of the process. That’s what keeps me going basically, the love of music and wanting to create new shit.  

Would you define yourself as a “rapper”? Most of your tracks are labeled as “Ambient,” “Electronic,” or “Alternative Rock.” 

I make a lot of different kinds of music. There's stuff that's not out that doesn't sound like anything that's on my SoundCloud... I don't know how I describe my music. Basically, I just smoke sometimes and... With my most recent track (“222gone”), I thought it was more electronic. That's just how it felt. 

Or with my song “Empire.” That's a rap song, but I'm damn near yelling the whole time. And with how the drums hit, it’s lowkey a rock song. But it's a rap song, you know?  

It's hard because I make a lot of different things. So, I don't try to label myself because I'm friends with a lot of different people that make a lot of different things, too. So, I never try to label anybody. I just make cool shit, in my opinion. 

One label that you seem comfortable with, at least for yourself, is “Vamp.” What does it mean to be a Vamp? 

Well, waking up at night or staying up at night... Staying up until the morning, bro... There are a lot of other things to being a Vamp, but you can listen to my music and find that out. Especially with this new tape, too 

But, I don't know... It's just cool as fuck. It’s just a cool-ass aesthetic. I was fucking with that shit since I was a kid with “Blade” and other things like that. 

What inspired you during the creation of your new project, “Lust”? 

A lot of life shit. I try to push my sound to the absolute best it can go. Every time I drop something I try to top myself. I just want to be better, and better, and better. 

This project was created where I'm sitting right now. I would just be here all day.  

When I say I'm gonna make a project, sometimes I completely deprive myself. For this project, I haven't been eating or sleeping. So, it was just raw. I tried to make it as raw as possible. 

(Depravation) gives clarity, for me at least. It gives me no bounds. Some people do it for religion and stuff and it gives them that clarity, too, you know? 

I just treat it as that. I treat it with respect and just try to go crazy. 

With “Blööddungeøn,” “saturdaymoonlight,” and now “Lust,” this has been a very consistent project run over the last year. What's inspiring this output? 

Before I dropped “Blööddungeøn,” I wasn't that consistent. Some things happened, and I got more time and my love for music sparked up again. I don't think it's ever gonna stop. I try to stay consistent. 

That's what the people want, bro. Sounds move so fast now that you got to keep up and you got to keep dropping. Some people aren't even up and they're waiting six months to drop something... That's not how it works.  

Music changes. That shit that you recorded a year ago that you think is so fire, you're gonna drop it and people aren't gonna like it cuz it's older, you know? 

Most of your music is only available on Soundcloud. Why do you use that service instead of Spotify or Apple Music? 

I get asked this question every single day in the DMs, bro. Everybody’s always like, “Bro, please, please put on Spotify!” 

After this tape gets at least 5,000 views on every song, which shouldn't be too long, I'm gonna post my whole discography on all platforms all at once and see what happens. 

I’ve been keeping it on SoundCloud because I like how SoundCloud works. That’s how I've gained my following and it's worked so much so far. I just love SoundCloud, bro. It’s what I've been using since I was a kid. I want to grow my initial fan base there because that's how all the people that I originally looked up to built their original fan bases -- just through SoundCloud.  

I fuck with the UI and everything and how I can check who listened to my shit the most. Like, literally the single person that listens to my shit the most. 

It’s one of the few streaming platforms where you can have a direct connection with your fans. 

Literally, bro.  

There's a comment section and it gives me more of a connection because I listen to my music, and I look at the comments as they pop up to see what people are feeling. Sometimes a note hits that I  appreciate. Somebody's like, “Oh shit! This part right here is fire.” That's why I use SoundCloud.  

I also like the rarity factor. I could put something out and three people download it. If I delete it, they can repost it. Or, if I’m not feeling a track, I can make it private and make it back public whenever I want. 

I'm impulsive, too. If I make a song that I like, I'm probably gonna drop it the next day. You can't do that on other platforms. That’s another reason why I stick to SoundCloud. 

How do you want people to feel when they listen to “Lust”? 

Like they’re floating. It depends on what you're doing. You go the deepest, darkest depths if you want, or you could just be floating. You could just vibe and walk around at night or sunset. 

There's stuff for everybody on this tape. I’m really happy with how it turned out. It's my favorite of all three projects.  

Sebas, 19, is a local show promoter. He is a close friend of Zodiak’s and advises him on his music and books shows for him in Minneapolis and across the country. He joins the conversation to give details about the “Lust” release party that will take place in Minneapolis on Friday, July 8th. Zodiak along with Zongoso, 4K Ultra, and special guests are slated to perform. 

What can people expect at the “Lust” release party on Friday night? 

Sebas: Raw energy and a good time. This is a group release of emotion. People have been going through a lot of stuff recently. This party is going to be the time to let it out in a safe, semi-controlled environment. 

Zodiak: People yearn for this shit. That's why I love performing. It feels great to see the reaction from people. It’s the best feeling ever.  

People should expect a lot of fun. Everybody can let loose because nobody's judging. That's why I love our shows. Everybody's just there to have fun. It's never a problem. Unless it’s what the police, but that's it. 

As I hear you two describe this environment, the word that comes to mind is “cathartic.” It almost seems connected to the recording environment that you described earlier. Even though not sleeping, not eating, or moshing is painful, these are things people do to find clarity like you were talking about. 

Zodiak: Exactly. 

What can people expect from you two in the future? 

Sebas: (We want to) take this environment we created and keep expanding it. Give people a safe space. We want the shows here to be like how punk shows were for kids in Cali in the ‘80s -- a place where you can go let everything out, have a fun time with your friends and be safe, not judged.  

This is a global thing we're trying to work on. When I look at what I want to do and places that I want to see (Zodiak) go... It's bigger than all of us. The mission we're on right now is bigger than all of us. It’s gonna take the masses figuring it out, even though they might not at first. Once they catch on, that's when things will start to get crazy for us. 

I’m trying to plan a tour for (Zodiak). Four or five cities to get to the out-of-state fanbase. The show we did in LA was fun, and in Orlando, too... It’s something we think about a lot. To hear someone that you’ve never seen in your life sing the words to your song is the craziest feeling. 

Zodiak: Bigger and better things, man. I'm trying to grow. I want to be the biggest artist ever. I want to do a lot of cool shit. I want to travel the world, performing music and spreading a message. I just want to top myself every step of the way, honestly. 

Zodiak will perform at the “Lust” release part at 615 SE 12th Ave in Minneapolis on Friday, July 8th. 

Stream “Lust” on SoundCloud. Follow Zodiak and Sebas. 

One of the most intriguing new artists in the Twin Cities is Zora, who fearlessly blends sounds from hip-hop, rock, R&B, and pop. Her debut album, Z1, arrived June 17 via Get Better Records, which has also released projects from Twin Cities artists Gully Boys and VIAL.

Prior to the album’s release, Zora gained national press for singles “RUNNITUP” and “ALL AROUND THE WORLD!” The latter, she dedicated to trans visibility, stating, “I wanted to create a song to remind us just how powerful we are, and to remind the masses that we’re not going anywhere.”

The Chicago native, who studied at Berklee College of Music in Boston, has made Minneapolis her home in recent years. In a wide-ranging interview, we talked about her origins, how video games inspired her futuristic pop sound, and her desire to to stay true to herself in her work. 

How'd you get into music and who were some of your inspirations growing up?

Zora: I come from a pretty musical family. My grandma taught me initially how to play piano when I was younger. I was raised on piano and my family is pretty much all jazz and classical musicians. So a lot of the music I grew up on was Beethoven and older jazz artists like Miles Davis. My dad is a DJ, so I started getting into a lot of ‘80s and ‘90s rap music, like Run DMC and A Tribe Called Quest, which is my favorite group of all time. And then I started getting into my own stuff, like Kendrick Lamar, Sophie, Rihanna, Beyonce, Britney Spears, and Tyler, The Creator — all the big people now. And that's what shaped my initial sound.

How do your grandparents feel about both you and your pops deviating from jazz and classical?

So my grandma actually passed away in 2015, but that was right when I made the transition from jazz to more pop and R&B, hip-hop, and rock. She was always super proud of me. She definitely instilled in me the meaning of what it means to be fully authentic to yourself — you always gotta stay true to exactly what you want to do. Because even with her, she was raised as a classical musician, but then she wanted to do jazz. So she started doing jazz singing and jazz playing.

What are you pulling from these different sources that ultimately gives you the Zora sound?

I think it's just how I perceive the world. I was really raised on a lot of music and a lot of video game sound influences as well. My sound is so widespread. I literally go from the Lizzie McGuire theme song to Beyonce's Lemonade album in the same playlist. After a while, it just compiles in my brain as this weird mix of sounds.

I definitely heard the sample from Nickelodeon's The Amanda Show theme song on your single, "ALL AROUND THE WORLD!" That's crazy. You said you also pulled from some video games. What were some of the video game sounds that you loved growing up?

Kingdom Hearts was like the biggest one for me. The Legend of Zelda, Mario Kart, Final Fantasy, a lot PlayStation 1 and 2 games, and our Nintendo games that I played as a kid. I would just study them and try to recreate them in Logic. "How do I make this sound like that?

Are you still a big gamer today?

Oh, yeah, definitely. I'm a PlayStation person. Most of my friends are Xbox people. So it's hard, but you know, you got to do what you got to do.

So about Z1, your debut album. What does it represent for you?

Z1 is the embodiment of just me in general. The album has all of the different facets and sides of my life and my story. It reflects the music, too, where you have a rock song one moment, and then a drum and bass song, and then a really sad pop ballad, or a super happy pop-rock song. It really is just showcasing all the different parts of my heart. I really put my entire being into this album.

Rolling Stone’s feature on Z1 mentioned how the project was an anti-capitalist album. Would you describe it as such?

A big thing for me in music is everything I do is political, just down to being a Black woman. Even if I just wrote a song that wasn't about anything, it would just be political based off the fact that I'm just me. I think based off pure essence, Z1 is definitely an anti-capitalist album, whether intentional or unintentional. I pretty much paid for everything on that album myself, all the production I did it. It's very much not feeding into the system, and going against the system by just existing.

Also, I'm very much inspired by people who have come before me, specifically, like Black artists who use music to say very important messages. I really hope to do that a lot and stronger, like NWA. People like them, they had their songs that they couldn't perform. If the police came, they can't perform at the stadium. They still did it, and ended up getting kicked out. But they still decided to make the message. I really resonate with that or with Kendrick, with Beyonce, Erykah Badu, Jill Scott. There's so many people saying such powerful things in their music, and just being who they are, is just powerful enough. Just by existing in this industry, in this world, you're already making a statement. Period.

You talk about wanting to burn up one of your ops in the song, "Burn," or in "RUNNITUP," you say, "Give me this money or catch these hands for free." It's a beautiful contrast because your voice is so soft and healing as a listener. What role does aggression and the things you're taking in from society, as a Black woman, play into in your music and your songwriting? How do you put that into song? 

It definitely comes from a lot of my inspirations like Janet Jackson and Britney Spears, specifically. I love how soft they both were considered in the music world, especially Janet, as a Black woman. She was the blueprint for so many artists. I really looked up to that. I want to have that same softness with my voice, but I want to be saying some “rah rah” stuff in the microphone — saying exactly how I feel. In some of my earlier music, I kind of shied away from that. I would be very afraid of cussing or saying things that certain people wouldn't want to hear.

Then I was like, "Well, wait. Do I want to say that?" Is this what I want to say, then I'll say it. "Give me the money you owe me a catch these hands for free," is like, “That's how I'm feeling and that's what I want to say right now.” With “Burn” also, that one was about an ex as well. So when I wrote it in the moment, I was thinking, “I want to watch you burn. Straight up, I need you to watch me live my dreams and you burn. Period.”

What has been your experience as a Black woman and artist in Minneapolis? 

I definitely love it here. And I love my Black community that I've established here. I think like every other city, it definitely has its problems. But I think the biggest thing is that I love watching the Black community specifically come together. Whenever there is something that attacks one of us, it attacks all of us. And that's not something that I really see in a lot of places, so that's something that I really like.

I do feel sometimes I get caught off guard when it comes to the shows that I play, because I don't make specifically just hip-hop, R&B, or just pop. I have some elements of rock in there. Sometimes, as a Black woman, in that kind of scene, in that genre, I can be overlooked in spaces that are more predominantly white. It is a little disheartening, to be honest, because Black people created all genres of popular music. Like, when we get to those shows and I'm playing a rock song, and they're like, "Who produced you? Who's this on the song?" I'm like, "That's me. I'm the person that did that."

How'd you choose the Twin Cities as the place to ground yourself in your music and set your roots?

I'm from Chicago, Illinois, originally, so I've always loved the Midwest. I'm kind of a homebody, so Chicago can get a little bit too busy for me. So I was thinking, “How do I get to a place that's a little bit calmer, but still has a nice city vibe, but also more progressive in their politics?”

I moved here around two years ago, actually. I had just turned 21, and I was kind of guarded and not really focusing on myself at that time. So once I kind of got here and started getting involved with the community. It just helped me look at everything in a much more positive environment, because there wasn't the stress of, "Am I good enough? What am I supposed to be doing in this world?” It just gave me the freedom in the space to just really create and just write, make all this music and that music turned into Z1. I think this city really is one of those hidden gems for me. I thought, "Oh, yeah, I'll move here," and now I'm fully immersed in an amazing city with such amazing artists and people.

I really love downtown. That's where a lot of my favorite people live. I've also really liked Uptown, Whittier, Seward and North Minneapolis. That's where my ballroom mother lives and she's amazing. I really just like Minneapolis in general, all the different areas and circles that are here.

When can we expect some visuals or shows?

Visuals are coming, and I'm so excited. I cannot wait to share them with everybody. I'm so excited. For the album and everything, I do have a few shows that I'm going to be playing very soon. There's one happening in August that I'm going to start posting about pretty soon. I think the biggest thing is just more performances, more visuals, and I really want to tour pretty soon.

Zora’s debut album Z1 is now out on all platforms. Make sure to stream it wherever you get your music!

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Tyler Colon played college basketball. He won an MTV reality show. He's tried podcasting, modeling, and acting. But in 2019, he got serious about pursuing music.

"After singing in my car for, like, six months for an hour and a half every single day, I released 'Stuck In The Middle,'" he said.

He put it up on TikTok under his stage name, Tai Verdes. At the time, he was working at a Verizon store.

"I saw other people like me that had no following end up on the radio," he said. "And when you see that happen multiple times because of one app, it's kind of like 'a-duh', you know what I'm saying? Like, why not?"

Before he knew it, he was fielding calls from presidents of record labels during his lunch break. He got a record deal, made a debut album, and is currently on a 22-city tour across America. "Stuck In The Middle" has been streamed well over 100 million times on Spotify.

TikTok has flipped the script on the music industry, and everyone from artists to analysts and even marketing bosses at the top labels are hustling to catch up.

A new way to listen

Verdes thinks he would have made it without TikTok, but he also noticed that his fans on the app were especially engaged. They would go from his TikTok to his Spotify page or his YouTube channel.

"You just made this video, you have this song, you have this melody that they really like. They want to go get that. You just gave them something," he said.

Verdes isn't the only one to notice this trend, and that TikTok users interact with music differently.

"They're not just listening to music in a sort of, like, lean-back, passive way," says music industry analyst Tatiana Cirisano. "They're more likely to do more lean-forward activities, like creating playlists or listening to full albums on streaming or buying merchandise."

Consumer behavior data compiled by Cirisano shows TikTok users are more likely to spend money on music, and be more invested in it. 40% of active TikTok users pay a monthly subscription for music, compared to 25% of the general population. And 17% buy artist merchandise monthly, compared to 9% of the general population.

What's more, TikTok users often respond to music with their own videos, using features built into the app design. They might lip-sync a song, make up a dance, or try to sing it.

"It's changed music listening from being a one-way relationship where a song comes out and you listen to it on your own, to something that you participate in," Cirisano said. "I mean, I don't think that any other social media app has done that to this degree. TikTok is peak UGC in that way."

UGC — short for "user-generated content" — is one of the buzzwords currently going around in the music industry.

Nina Webb is the head of marketing at Atlantic Records and said when she first started out in the industry, it was a bit simpler.

"It used to be a puzzle for a 3-year-old. You had video and radio," she said. "And you just needed money and leverage and influence as a label. And now I feel like it's the 1,000 piece gray sky where TikTok is the only piece that will individually move the dial the way it does."

Webb knows exactly what she's talking about. Last August, an Atlantic Records artist named Gayle released a song called "ABCDEFU."

They promoted the song on TikTok a lot, but it didn't really take off until months later when the sign language sub-community of TikTok got a hold of it in the middle of Gayle's tour.

Note: This TikTok post includes profanity in lyrics and sign language that some might find objectionable.

"She saw the difference from playing at the beginning of the tour, when people, like, somewhat kind of heard this or looked it up, to by the end — I mean, it was like the whole place was going crazy," Webb said. "So November was really the tipping point, and it was 100% the sign language community."

That user-generated content made all the difference for Gayle. Her song sat at No. 1 on the Billboard Global 200 chart for 11 weeks.

Buying influence and getting lucky

These days, there's a cottage industry dedicated to marketing a song or artist on TikTok — paying influencers to promote a song, posting short clips to see what people respond to, trying to get a dance challenge going. With 1 billion monthly active users now on TikTok after a surge in downloads over the pandemic, it's not hard to see why.

Webb says she's certainly tried different strategies, but most times when a song takes off on TikTok, it seems to happen organically.

"I mean, there's a million examples of a lot of very expensive campaigns that had no return," she said. "Like, we can't do it. It has to come from fans or the artist because you're talking to Gen Z. They smell everything out."

Sometimes those fans work in unexpected ways. Celine Dion's "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" came out 25 years ago but earlier this year set one-day streaming records on Spotify and YouTube after lip-syncing the most dramatic part of the song became a viral TikTok trend.

Or take the song "Snowman" by Sia. That came out in 2017, but the TikTok challenge came in 2020, where people posted videos of themselves trying to sing the entire chorus in one breath.

Analyst Tatiana Cirisano says the music industry used to hunt for unknown talent and develop it. But the rise of TikTok has helped to flip that formula.

"I think that we are increasingly in an era where audiences are choosing what they want to hear, and record labels and the rest of the music industry are sort of listening to that," she said.

The risk of burnout

There are downsides to this too, though. TikTok might create opportunities for musicians, but some artists feel that they have to constantly be "on". Creator burnout is real.

"There's kind of this fear, I think, for people that have built huge followings on TikTok that if they stop at any point, people will just stop following them or they'll forget or they'll move on," Cirisano said.

"At times, people's attention spans are shorter and just the content trend doesn't stop."

Damoyee is a 21-year-old an independent music artist/content creator from Dallas, Texas. She is a composer, producer, singer, songwriter, and she plays a lot of instruments.

She posts a lot of covers and remixes of other songs, usually trending ones. And it's a lot of work. A minute-long TikTok usually takes around six hours to create.

"I know starting out, it took me a little less than a week to get 100 followers," she said. "And I remember, like, seeing one-zero-zero, I freaked out. I thought, hey, I'm famous, you know? I was grateful," Damoyee says with a laugh.

Sometimes a video flops, and sometimes it takes off. But Damoyee says that she generally feels TikTok helps boost musicians like her. That doesn't make it easy.

Damoyee is learning to balance her school work, personal life and the social following she's trying to build.

"It's definitely been a bit of a challenge and it has taken a toll, you know, especially on my mental health," she says. "I've gone, at the latest ... a month without posting because I just needed to breathe."

"I will say for now, the goal is to thrive as an independent artist without looking at any labels at the moment and to still build a platform to the point where I would feel comfortable releasing music alone," she said.

In other words, she hopes to find that perfect balance between cultivating her online following and making music. And when she does, she's hoping she won't have to ask the traditional powers in the industry for recognition. They may call her first.

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Listening to the deep, funky groove of Thundercat's latest, "Them Changes" it's not hard to pick up on a few influences like 70s jazz fusion, George Clinton and Yacht Rock. Here, Thundercat, aka bassist Stephen Bruner lays out his favorite all-purpose picks — drawing heavily from those influences — for your next little gathering.

Thundercat: Hey, this is Stephen "Thundercat" Bruner. And I'm going to ruin your dinner party with this dinner party soundtrack, which you should've never given me power over.

Kenny Loggins – "Heart to Heart"

No. 1 would be Kenny Loggins "Heart to Heart." Because I think every man needs to understand this level of mandom.

I mean, he just kind of tells the truth in his songs a lot, you know? What this song, I feel, is about, is the crossroads that you come to in a relationship oh so often, where you don't know what the hell is going on. You don't know why you like this person… you don't know why you can't leave… you're just lost [laughs].

Kenny Loggins plays a genre of music we like to call "yacht rock." And the reason why I'm a fan of it is because I'm a fan of debauchery, and I would think that debauchery happens on yachts on a consistent basis, that we cannot account for. Because there's no cellphone service… there's no accounting for the amount of money and drugs you can carry with you on a yacht… and I would think that that equates to PARTY. So, yacht rock, we love you.

Seal – "Crazy"

The next song that I choose is Seal, "Crazy." It's got that real weird, ethereal kind of feel to it, and you have to read between the lines a bit. He's kind of letting us know that he is crazy. You know, it's like, we can all relate on some level.

It's mellow enough to where, if you guys want to two-step and shake your shoulders to it? That's cool. If you also want to run and jump through your neighbor's windowpane, naked? Totally goes with both of those. There's not really a "medium" to how crazy you can get with this song.

Future – "Thought It Was a Drought"

For my third song… when the party's going, you know what I'm saying? "Thought It Was a Drought," by Future.

This is a new song by Future; it just came out. I was listening to it with Flying Lotus on the way back from working with Hannibal Burress on his show "Why?" on Comedy Central. And me and Lotus are sitting in the car… and you feel like a million bucks when you do something that feels like it's worth something. You put Future on, and it's like, "Yes! This is exactly what's needed right now." You can hear the raspiness, but I mean, that's very musical and pretty to the ears.

This [song] is happening when you're, like, so drunk that you can't talk over the music, and you don't want to get close enough that your friends smell your breath. So, you just pat them on the back and say, "Yeah," anytime they seem like they're coming at you to say something serious. They're not paying attention, either. You're kind of like, "What? What? Yeah! Yeah."

Thundercat – "Them Changes"

We're going to close this party with one of my own songs. It's called "Them Changes."

You know, everybody goes through relationship issues, and ups and downs, and this was a therapeutic way for me to deal with things that had been going on with me. That's just me being honest. Here's where Kenny Loggins comes back in as an inspiration.

This feature originally appeared as a segment in episode 315 of APM's The Dinner Party Download. Subscribe to their excellent podcast here.