Blake Mills has been a first-call guitarist, producer and songwriter for more than a decade — everyone from John Legend to Bob Dylan to Norah Jones has sought him out. Accordingly, it can sometimes feel like he's cracked the code for good.

"For somebody like me, who deals in music every day, sometimes it can feel like it loses its mystery and its luster," he tells GRAMMY.com over Zoom, the day his latest album, Jelly Road, was released.

But his whirlwind last few years have kicked up the magic anew — specifically, his performances with Joni Mitchell. After being sidelined by a brain aneurysm, the titanic singer/songwriter has miraculously returned to the stage, which Mills calls "pretty astounding."

"On a human level, that's pretty astounding," Mills says. Because a study in Mitchell's return is a study in life, music and consciousness — watching her neurons establish new pathways, and her singular musical language flow through her fingers once again.

Jelly Road is charged with this sense of mystery and awe. Throughout, its melodies come at you from consistently unexpected places; its production is commensurately comforting and alien.

The songs themselves feel unearthly, gravity-defying, logic-breaking: what is the Jelly Road, and why does it weigh heavily in the narrator's memory? Who's the eccentric character in "A Fez," pondering a rainbow of the titular headgear? Knowing's not the point; knowing would break the spell.

Even as Mills recalls his unforgettable experiences with Mitchell — as well as working with Bob Dylan on Rough and Rowdy Ways, and working on the soundtrack to "Daisy Jones and the Six" — it's easy to sense that the deeper he spelunks into music, the more mysterious it gets.

"There is something macro going on with what we do, and we don't even know how powerful it is and how powerful it can be for people," Mills recalls thinking, in the context of Mitchell. "It's a good reminder."

Read on for an in-depth interview with Mills about walking the Jelly Road, the indispensable contributions of collaborator Chris Weisman and his detour into music for TV.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

**How would you summarize the arc of your life and career since your last solo album, Mutable Set?**

If I had the world's largest bingo card, I never would've imagined putting some of the things that have happened on it.

I can't remember if, when we spoke last, the Rough and Rowdy Ways sessions had happened yet? And then, more recently, getting to work with Joni Mitchell, and working on the "Daisy Jones" TV show and meeting Chris [Weisman] and developing that relationship.

It's weird to encapsulate two or three years with the effect that the pandemic has had on time and even my memory. I struggle a little bit to create a story through it all, but I'm definitely really grateful that I had the television show to work on for so long. 

That might sound like a backhanded compliment or statement, because it was a really long time and a lot of work, but it was during a period where a lot of my colleagues were searching fervently for something to work on. Things were scary and slowed down.

That leads us to here, and the record that just came out today, and the shows that I've been doing over the last month. It's just been one of the most fruitful collaborative relationships I've probably had in my life, in my career.

Jelly Road **feels like a tilt from Mutable Set. What was the germ of the concept behind it?**

I like that you mentioned that it is a deviation from Mutable Set. I think from [2021's Pino Palladino co-led album] Notes With Attachments as well; there's a language that's starting to form over those two records in particular.

But beyond that, I don't necessarily make records with a lot of a mission statement. Other than having songs written, you're kind of going out on the lake with a fishing pole. You know there's fish there. You don't know how long it's going to take for you to catch one. You might have a day where for some reason you don't catch anything. That's what it's like to go into the studio when I'm making most things. Certainly solo records.

I think at a certain point, we just start to look at what we've gathered, and understand what the record is — what the personality of the record is. And that could be pretty deep into the process.

Did the language of the Bob sessions or tunes seep in there?

I think one of the things that I learned from working on that record was, I got to observe how it seems to me like he envisions the singer in the song. It's almost like an actor. The qualities of the music, and everything going on, are aspects of a scene.

That really changed, or added a perspective for me in the studio. When I'm producing myself or somebody else, to look at it through that angle. Instead of just as the singer, or writer, of the song, to look at it like it's a performance on camera.

Then, you have to form your own opinions about what's most effective.

Regarding Jelly Road: I've always been drawn to your tunes as much, or more than, the stuff you get the most ink for — guitar, production. Do you try to write from a place of mystery? Obscurity? A cloudy place?

Well, before coffee, everything is coming from a cloudy place for me. As a writer, I feel like it's an ephemeral medium. My favorite stuff, it's pretty mysterious for me where it comes from. My least favorite stuff, it feels a little more mappable. Direct experiences that I've had in my life.

When I say "least favorite," it doesn't necessarily mean that I don't like the song, but the electrical charge that I get when I think about it. Or, if I'm playing it, it feels smaller.

A lot of the stuff on Jelly Road feels like it's written from a place just beyond my reach of total comprehension. Not to say I don't know what the songs are all about, but that what they're about has more to do with feelings than events sometimes.

It seems like you're playing with tropes, or formats, of what songs are. You ask, "What can make a song unsingable?" The last song is called "Without an Ending." In its specificity, "Press My Luck" feels like a wink; it feels like a big personal moment, but I question whether it is.

In "Press My Luck," there's a little bit of a slice-of-life perspective, where it might feel like a big jump to go from the day-to-day personal to something that's a little bit more universal.

But really, when you think about what day-to-day life is, it's inundated with information about the world. It comes at you in a moment where, just prior, you might be thinking about something happening in your own life, or your own head.

I think that jump is actually pretty familiar for people psychologically. It might stand out in a situation where you're listening to a song, or looking at a painting, or reading something, and really trying to understand something about the artist or the work.

Then, it might be like, Well, this is interesting. It makes this big leap here. But I think in everyday life, it's probably a pretty mundane thing for our brains to do.

That's a fairly meta conception. I know you worked on Randy Newman's Dark Matter. At the time, you said, "There's movie music, and then there's movie-music."

He's a master at the meta form now, and that record is a really good example of it.

I've never done anything that's even remotely close to that, but it's comfortable for me to dabble with one foot in something that's a little more mysterious to me and just write about it with a little bit of wonder. Then, maybe write things that I've got a little bit of a firmer grasp on — or I think I have a little firmer grasp on, only to be proven wrong about it years later.

I've got to play that song again, thinking, Oh, man. I was such an idiot when I was 24 and writing this song. I've been writing songs and putting them on records since I was 20 — 19, maybe, even. Or younger, if you count Simon Dawes.

The things that you aspire to stylistically at that age — if you're still aspiring to them when you're in your 30s, I don't know. I don't even want to go there, but it's definitely not where I am today. So, there's also that to deal with.

Hopefully, these songs, and everything I'm doing now, is a natural evolution from some things that I've done before.

Some tunes have a freewheeling quality, like you're digging through your bag of tricks in real time. Does that bely something else? Do you fussily labor in the studio? Or do you kind of charge ahead?

Chris Weisman noted something about being in [the studio with me], because it was his first time around me in an environment like that. He was surprised by how unceremonial a lot of aspects of recording are. Because he's a big fan of — in particular — Mutable Set and Notes With Attachments.

I think to his ear, the mental image of what's going on in those records is a lot of tweaking and precision. I guess in reality, there are some things — like vocals or guitar solos or stuff like that — that happen very quickly and without a lot of fuss.

Then, there's other things. I might be sitting at the computer for a long time. That could be something like the bass performance. Or what instrument will live on the bottom end, if it's not a bass.

I guess I will say: yes, I do tweak, but it's maybe not on the things that people might [think]. If they're making a hierarchy of what's important on an album, it might not be on the things at the top of that pyramid.

What did you learn from working on "Daisy Jones & the Six"? It seems like during the pandemic, when work was uncertain, that could have been a meditative outlet.

It was not a meditative experience. It was an intense amount of work. When all was said and done, I think it was 30 songs or something.

It's tricky. It's not my typical process, writing on assignment like that and creating a fictionalized version of a band that I would've listened to from the '70s, and working with the actors to try to get the vocal performances to come to life.

It was just all new, and it was intense. I think I knew from asking colleagues, "What's it like working in film, working in TV, on music? Everybody — even the people who have successful careers at it — get a little flash of death in their eyes. It's intense work.

I never felt like it was a place where I could go to turn off the trauma of what was going on in the world around it. But what I was referring to earlier was in many ways more from a creative standpoint — to have something to work on, to have a goal.

Yeah, I think that's what I meant. To have a goal.

Yeah, through that time. Also, an economic standpoint: the studio is so expensive to keep going to have something that utilizes the recording studio.

Because for all of those songs, I had to make pretty fleshed out demos. There's a lot of ears that are going on those songs to say yes or no: "We like this." Or maybe, "Take another crack at it."

Those ears are not used to listening to iPhone recordings of a voice and a guitar or a piano. They kind of need to hear the whole thing. So the gamble on each one — the dice roll on each one — was a pretty elaborate recording.

I think maybe to the thing you were illustrating, I did have a place to go in terms of my own studio. I did shut out a lot of the chaos outside when I was in there working on that stuff.

That sounds terrifying to me. Building this mansion of toothpicks knowing that somebody might knock it down once it's completed.

Yeah. All I could do at the end of the day — and what my job ultimately was — was to make something that pleases me. Try to represent myself and my tastes as something that the show could lean on.

I also want to say that to the credit of Amazon and [Reese Witherspoon-founded media company] Hello Sunshine, I think that the amount of freedom that I experienced creatively is unusual in that world. It did not turn into the thing that I was most afraid of, which was that I was essentially collaborating with a studio on music.

The studio was very deferential to its music team in terms of what is accurate and believable for that time — what is impressive. If we're trying to tell the story that this band was one of the biggest bands and best bands in their time and in their community, what does that mean? What can they do that's so special?

They really did go with us on that. They also did not flinch when I said, "OK, I'll take the gig, but I want to work with anybody in the world that I choose. And the first person I'm going to call is Chris Weisman." They were not afraid, and I think that is unusual.

I want to ask about working with Joni. Even today, I think we've only scratched the surface of her artistry and language; it's fathoms deep. What did you learn working with her?

I would say that my time so far has revealed something more interesting to me than the proximity to what she's been capable of as an artist. And that is actually witnessing somebody's recovery from something that frankly should have wiped them out.

She's somebody who has learned how to walk in her life one, two… I think three times. Let's see. Once when she was a baby. She had polio; she had to relearn how to walk. And then, she had this aneurysm and had to relearn how to walk and talk and sing and now play guitar.

It's these things that are returning to somebody in this time at this age [79]. She's regaining these abilities almost a decade after having an aneurysm. A lot of people, after a brain injury — if it doesn't come back in the first two years, I don't think it usually comes back.

So, on a human level, that's pretty astounding. And then, you tie in the stuff that you're referring to: her language that is unique.

If you just look at the guitar side of it — which is very fun for me, by the way, to be this close to — her right-hand technique on guitar is so unusual and unique and her own. And it's improvisatory. Every time she plays a song, she plays it in a different way.

There's no book to refer back to, to say, "Well, this is how you do Joni Mitchell." When she had her aneurysm and couldn't play, really, that language left the world. Even though she was still alive, a lot of the things that only she can do as a musician left the planet.

Somehow, we're all lucky enough to wake up and enjoy the reality that some of these things have returned to us, for who knows how long.

She is also — by her own words, it seems — at the happiest point in her life. A lot of the negativity of being a woman in the entertainment industry and everything else has been wiped away and has not returned.

I'm so grateful that the time in which my path has crossed hers has been at this moment in her life, because it's really incredible and inspiring. I realize how extremely lucky I am to get to be there for it.

Let's end it on Jelly Road. When you listen back, what moments, or Easter eggs, are you drawn to?

I'm in New York. Right before midnight last night, I took a walk to get a slice, but really what I was doing was listening to the record one more time before it came out. Just to have one last spin to myself. That was the first time I'd listened to it in a minute.

The perspective was a little fresher than it's been. I'm trying to think of moments that stood out. I really enjoy hearing Chris's Venova gestures on the song "Jelly Road."

The Venova is the thing that kind of sounds like a straight soprano saxophone on that song. It's this little plastic recorder that has a saxophone mouthpiece on it. It's molded to have some characteristics physically of a saxophone, so it's like a toy version of a straight sax.

Chris, during the pandemic, discovered this instrument and decided, "I'm going to be one of the probably 12 people in the world who have one of these and play it, but I'm going to try to be the best at it in the world."

It's like being a professional and riding a children's bicycle with training wheels on it or something. Being able to do ridiculous BMX tricks, and he did it.

I think he might be the best Venova-ist on the planet at the moment, but we're putting the instrument on the map and just going to sit back and watch prices skyrocket.

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No one is arguing that “Bridgerton” is realistic or even particularly historically accurate — in fact, leaning into anachronisms is the point. Entering its third season, which premieres on May 16, the pulpy Netflix show based on a series of romance novels by Julia Quinn — often classified as “bodice rippers” — mixes modern life ideas with Regency-era social rules.

From Lady Whistledown's tantalizing gossip columns to the complex romances of the Bridgerton siblings, the series grips viewers with its blend of historical drama and contemporary flair. One key note in that chord is classical music. Instead of using current tracks like some historical-contemporary-hybrids (most famously “A Knight’s Tale" in 2001), “Bridgerton” has mastered the art of the classical cover. 

Paired with original compositions by Kris Bowers, an Oscar winner and GRAMMY nominee — including one for Best Score Soundtrack For Visual Media for "Bridgerton" — the tone of the show is that of a heightened, classic world. Bowers, along with music supervisor Justin Kamps collaborates with the Vitamin String Quartet and other artists to create a full circle sonic landscape. They make the classical music in “Bridgerton” pop by re-recording, rearranging, and reimagining contemporary pop songs as classic pieces. 

Over three seasons, as well as with the spin off, “Queen Charlotte,” the team has included a mix of the newest songs as well as nostalgic favorites. This season features GAYLE’s “abcdefu,” which was released in 2022 as well as a cover of Pitbull, Ne-Yo, and Afrojack’s “Give Me Everything,” which was released in 2011, which can appease the full gamut of millennial and Gen Z viewers.  

Regency traditions 

The Regency period in which the show is based, spanned from 1811 to 1820, and was known as an era of elegance and refinement in British history.  In the first chunk of the 1800s, pop music included pieces by Beethoven, Liszt, Haydn, and Mendlesson (famous for the “Wedding March”). Waltzes were all the rage, and this “new” music was considered much more emotional and passionate than previous offerings. The romance of being swept away in a dance increased the thrill, and string quartets were highly popular. 

As seen throughout the series (and much like today), society placed a significant emphasis on social gatherings and music played a central role in these events. Balls, soirées, and intimate musical evenings were common, the perfect backdrop for orchestrating romance. 

In “Bridgerton," the show's modern portrayal of the Regency period occasionally features or references music from the time period, such as Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons,” which was written a century before the events in the show but was and is still a popular piece of classical music. The show frequently uses arrangements of classical songs in a slightly modern way, but most often, it underscores scenes with either classically arranged covers of pop songs or original music by Bowers. 

Contemporary music covers

Choosing between a cover or original music is a nuanced decision for the music team. The music team considers “whether or not, there's something that can, lyrically, even though we don't hear lyrics, speak to a moment really well,” said Bowers. Absent a cover by an outside band, Bowers arranges pop hits to suit the tone of the scene. He said, “when you're saying something with a song, you're making commentary on what's happening.” 

When they do outsource tracks, more often than not, these covers come from Los Angeles-based Vitamin String Quartet. VSQ is the new Mendlesson in that they have been the predominant wedding-march artist for nearly a decade, known for producing string renditions of highly eclectic mix of artists including Cardi B, Lana Del Rey, Björk, and Sigur Rós. 

They contributed four covers in season one, including Billie Elish's “bad guy” and Ariana Grande's “Thank U, Next,” about which Leo Flynn, VSQ Brand Manager at CMH Label Group said, “Talk about a great track changing the temperature of a room.” In season two, VSQ’s cover of Robyn's “Dancing on My Own” played under a dance scene. 

When we spoke to James Curtiss, Director of A&R at CMH, the song placements for season three were still a mystery. Curtiss shared, “When we finished that Taylor [Swift] record, we sent it right over to the people at ‘Bridgerton.’” 

[Spoiler alert:] Since then, we have learned Swift's “Snow on the Beach” will be featured in season three. This isn't the first time Swift's music has been featured in the show: Duomo’s cover of “Wildest Dreams” played under the honeymoon scenes in season one. 

Composer Bowers added his favorite cover of the season is in episode eight, the finale, but what title that is will be a surprise. The surprise of an “unexpected cover” as Bowers calls it is that when you “hear a song that you know, and have this strong indelible connection with it that is represented in this style that you typically don't feel like is for you. People get excited by having this music that they really love be elevated to this other level.” He said the familiarity makes “you feel connected to this time period, these characters, and these people in a different way.” 

Flynn said, “There’s something about the past that’s inherently romantic,” and the use of VSQ songs “unites something from the past with what’s going on now.” Because classical music “feels very idealized and formal,” he said, “there’s all this history and mystique built into it.” 

Flynn also mentioned that “Bridgerton” fuses past and present on a “major storytelling scale” between the historically-inspired stories themselves, the “visual feast” of the show, and the music. Curtiss added that the “romantic nature of the string quartet” juxtaposed with pop songs helps viewers tie the feeling of going to a bar or club to the experience of hearing “the popular bangers of the day,” as he called Beethoven et al., at a ball in the Regency era. 

Original compositions

When the music needs to set a specific tone without taking the audience out of the action to try and name that tune, “Bridgerton” often uses original compositions by Bowers. Bowers said, “Looking at pop music for those things like rhythm and tempo and all that stuff also helps in moments where we want to have the score feel a little bit more modern and not as traditional.” He continued, “I’ll put something in the violas and the celli that have this kind of guitar and bass feeling to them even though we’re looking at it orchestrationally from a classical perspective.” He explained that “borrowing the rhythms or the way that parts interlock from pop music” makes it feel like a modern classical sound. 

Each character and couple has their own theme. Bowers explained that it was enjoyable to create themes that could fit both heartbreaking and celebratory moments. “The melodies are still the same even if the harmonic tone is changed,” he said.

Instrumental Pop In Visual Media

The “Bridgerton” style of using instrumentalized versions of pop songs is not unique. Famously, “Promising Young Woman” used a haunting version of Britney Spears’ “Toxic,” adapted by Anthony Willis, and “Westworld’s” Ramin Djawadi used adaptations of Radiohead among others. “Wednesday” featured a stirring string version of the Rolling Stones’ “Paint it Black.” The popularity of Vitamin String Quartet and other classical cover bands has not waned and, if anything, is becoming more of a mainstream staple.

As season three approaches, the unveiling of the time-spanning, romantic soundtrack is highly anticipated. Four episodes air May 16 and the second half of the season airs June 13, with original compositions by Kris Bowers and additional music by various artists, including Vitamin String Quartet, who will be taking over Pandora’s Classical Goes Pop in anticipation of their fall, “Bridgerton”-music-filled tour. 

Overall, to find the tone of the whole series, Bowers said, “Season three actually has a lot more lightness to it. (Showrunners) Shonda (Rhimes) and Jess (Brownell) really want to have a lot of fun this season so there's a little bit more of a playful, youthful quality to the music.” Whatever tunes make it into the season, they are sure to be a feast for the ears. 

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"Your story is like that of a superhero. Literally, there needs to be a Marvel movie about her."

So gushed moderator Jamie Dominguez, the national director of industry relations at the Mechanical Licensing Collective, onstage at the acoustically designed National Sawdust space in Brooklyn. To a small crowd hiding out from the spring drizzle, Dominguez extolled the remarkable journey of Japanese hip-hop artist Awich. Hailing from Okinawa, Japan, Awich may just be a flesh-and-blood woman, but her sheer fortitude and tenacity are Stan Lee-scaled.

Born Akiko Urasaki — her stage name is short for "Asian wish child" — Awich was a natural fit for  the GRAMMY Museum-sponsored "A New York Evening With…" interview and performance series. Introducing Awich and Dominguez, Lynne Sheridan, Vice President of Public Programming and Artist Relations for the GRAMMY Museum, called her "the queen of Japanese hip-hop" and "the living embodiment of all that makes the genre so culturally vital."

"As she reaches global stardom on the strength of her music’s emotional potency and limitless originality," Sheridan continued, "Awich now moves forward with her mission of uplifting her community while fearlessly speaking her truth." With that, Awich and Dominguez hit the ground running, with a tip of Dominguez’s hat to the timeliness of the event: "Happy AANHPI month."

They started at the beginning: Awich is from Okinawa, a small island far from the Japanese mainland. To hear Dominguez tell it, Brooklyn is actually full of Okinawans. "I figured," Awich replied, "because Okinawans are everywhere."

The importance of Okinawa’s innate mysticism and turbulent history to Awich’s art cannot be overstated. As Awich explained, Okinawa was once the Ryukyu Kingdom, colonized by China, then Japan, before becoming an American territory after World War II. Her parents grew up during the latter period, which lasted until The United States returned Okinawa to Japan in the early 1970s.

"When they gave it back," everything changed," Awich said. "We drove on the other side of the road, the currency was different. It was always chaos, but Okinawan people always found a way to live through these complex changes." Because Okinawans, she says, are a resilient, hospitable people, "We value each other as brothers and sisters."

Awich speaking at National Sawdust during her "A New York Evening With..." appearance in 2024. Photo: Rob Kim/Getty Images

Awich’s father was born on the day Japan attacked Pearl Harbor; in the post-war era, it was rough going for Awich’s family, to put it lightly. One particularly jarring story involved a U.S. military jet crashing into a schoolhouse while her mom was in attendance.

In 1986, Awich was born in an Okinawa steeped in American influence. As a teenager, she became obsessed with Tupac Shakur; listening to the hip-hop icon helped her learn English. "In Japanese, it's like there's a different, poetic, more indirect way of expressing. It's beautiful in its own way, but I felt like English is so simple, to the point and quick." Which describes the quintessentially American hip-hop idiom to a T.

"What he was saying and what he was doing, what his passion was, what his message was, his poetry book, his interviews, his speeches at the community center, his lyrics, his struggles, that's all I wanted to know," Awich says of Tupac. "And I just would study him all day, all night."

While she later learned to sing — and sing tremendously — rap proved to be her ideal creative vehicle. "I was already a poet in my own head before I met rap music, she said. "So when I [became acquainted with] rap music, I felt like, 'Oh, you don't have to sing to be a musician? I can do this!" 

The story rolled on: at 19, Awich moved to the U.S., against her parents’ wishes. "They gave up because I was a stubborn young lady," the rapper said impishly. She opted to put down roots, not in the "overwhelming" New York or LA, but in Atlanta, partly to "watch the city grow."

She met her future husband on a fluke, walking to school; he convinced her to play hooky. "I sometimes hitchhiked to school, because it was just so far away," Awich said. "I was looking in his eyes; I'm like, All right, I don't think he's a serial killer. And then I got into the car and we started talking."

It was through him that Awich learned about the Five-Percent Nation, an Afro-American Nationalist movement that deeply informed hip-hop legends like the Wu-Tang Clan. "It really teaches the Black, brown and yellow to be the original people of the earth… It was really fascinating to me." One thing led to another, and they fell in love and wed.

Awich’s husband was complicated and troubled, and unfortunately, involved in the criminal world — and, as such, in and out of jail. Just as they found out Awich was pregnant, he was incarcerated. Three days before their daughter, Toyomi Jah’mira, was born, he was released. 

Tragically, not long after, her husband was murdered in a street beef — the brutal culmination of violent events that included gunfire directed at their home. Of course, Awich was devastated. She turned to education as an outlet, earning a social degree in Georgia, and then two bachelor degrees at the University of Indianapolis. Then, she and Toyomi moved back to Okinawa.

"So you were a wife, a mother, and widow, all before the age of 24," Dominguez remarked. Awich answered in the affirmative.

Awich felt unmoored back in Okinawa. "It was a rollercoaster of emotion every day. One day I feel so sad and depressed, and the next day I feel like I could change the world," she related. "And the thing that kept me going was writing. I kept on writing journals, the things that I accustomed to do ever since I was a child. And I just kept on writing, writing, talking to myself."

After two years and a long talk with herself, Awich redoubled her commitment to music. And the conversation led to her creative process. Namely, writing and singing in three different languages — Okinawan, Japanese, and English. "The goal is for me to kind of just express or just catch what comes out in my mind," Awich said. "Each language has its own personality."

Awich talked about the meaning behind her latest album, The Union — "If you don’t know who you are, you won’t allow people to be who they are, and the unification of people coming together will never be achieved," she said.

She also discussed the hurdles of being an Asian woman in rap ("I always think that if I was a guy, I would've been way more famous"), and her appreciation of the Black culture that birthed her artform of choice. "I identify with the struggle," she said. "Hip-hop, the music, the culture, it represents the basic human struggle, and that's why it touches the people all around the world."

After a brief audience Q&A (mostly adulation from fans, and the revelation that she’s Team Kendrick in the Kendrick-Drake beef), Toyomi took the stage. ("Thank you for coming for my mom," the teenager sweetly, and sheepishly, offered.)

Following a projected video for Awich's song "Ashes" — about she and her daughter spreading her husband’s ashes in the sea — she then launched into a brief yet head-spinning performance of her trilingual bangers: “Queendom,” “Rasen in Okinawa,” “The Union,” and “Gila Gila.”

And with that, the globally rising star took her leave. "You’re about to take off into outer space, and it’s going to be beautiful," Dominguez said near the end. And, well — that’s what real-life superheroes do: transcend trauma, heartbreak and destruction, and take to the stars.

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"I feel I’ve always been in the business of shedding labels, but the world is doubling down," says Ani DiFranco. 

The GRAMMY-winning singer has long been heralded as rebel-rousing and outspoken. On her latest release, Unprecedented Sh!t, DiFranco continues to counter the ideologically divided world, and the labels it imposes. The album is DiFranco's 23rd, and arrives May 17.

It's not coincidental that Unprecedented Sh!t arrives in the midst of pre-election campaigning, affirming DiFranco's drive to use music as a vehicle to protest deep-rooted inequality and prejudices in America and beyond. On "Baby Roe," DiFranco reaffirms women's right to agency over her body and her access to a safe abortion. (DiFranco’s charitable foundation Righteous Babe has long supported women’s rights initiatives, including the National Abortion Federation, Planned Parenthood, and National Institute of Public Health.) Reproductive freedom is "an essential civil right, the centerpiece of what it means to be free as a woman in society," she says.

DiFranco has never shied from wearing her heart on her sleeve and championing her political views. Pre-election in 2016, she penned Binary, an album that explored themes of women’s right to choose, non-violence, and the fundamental necessity to coexist despite different views. The album epitomized what fans have long known: DiFranco’s politics are personal, delivered with a vulnerability and earnestness that gives her songs incredible resonance. 

She is a lyricist who has always worn her heart on her sleeve and, in 2019, brought that candor to a bestselling memoir. No Walls and the Recurring Dream detailed her Buffalo, New York childhood and adventures as a young folk-punk musician, a music label founder (Righteous Babe Records in 1989), a wife and mother. DiFranco continued to evolve post-memoir; in 2021, she dropped new album Revolutionary Love, and in 2023, released the 25th anniversary edition of Little Plastic Castle. She is, unsurprisingly, determined to rally the disillusioned into using their vote and their voices in the face of some, well, unprecedented s—. Indeed, she’s been writing her second children’s book, Show Up and Vote, to be released on Aug. 27.

But making record after record, touring and running her Righteous Babe Records (founded in 1989) hasn’t stopped DiFranco from exploring new artistic territory. She made her Broadway debut in the popular musical "Hadestown" in February this year, nearly 15 years after creating its original studio concept album.

DiFranco was life-altering for a generation of teenagers in the 1990s, perhaps peaking with 1995's Dilate. DiFranco’s spirited, down-to-earth delivery and fearlessness felt empowering, especially when the radio was otherwise transfixed by male-dominated grunge bands. DiFranco sang about burgeoning and disintegrating relationships. Her albums were documents of a buzzing, raucous city life; tales that played out in Chicago, New York, on trains, in shabby apartments, in cafes and bars. Not until "Red Letter Year" in 2008 did listeners hear a more relaxed DiFranco, who moved to the Bywater neighborhood of New Orleans the same year.

A transition from thriving in a bustling urban environment to the remoteness of her Louisiana home, which she shares with her 15-year-old daughter and 11-year old son, altered DiFranco's perspective. Today, DiFranco is prone to discussing the consciousness of rocks, plants and wildlife as easily as reproductive freedom. This spiritual awareness and a grounded observance of modern America presents both lyrically and musically on Unprecedented Sh!t, which seamlessly blends organic instrumental and vocal tracks with dissonant, warped synth effects.

DiFranco is unafraid to talk about aging and contemplating new ways to make music, now that she has finished a 23-album "series" of her life thus far. She is, of course, "an artist ‘til I die," so there is no risk that Unprecedented Sh!t is the last we will hear of DiFranco.

Ahead of the release of Unprecedented Sh!t, Ani DiFranco spoke with GRAMMY.com about her latest album, her Broadway debut, and a career of DIY achievements.

You have released 22 albums before this, which is a huge body of work for any artist. How is Unprecedented Sh!t a continuation of those ideas and stories, and how does it diverge?

In some sense it’s a continuation, and in another sense it’s a divergence in any of my records. There’s a sort of sonic divergence when you’re working with [producer] BJ [Burton], obviously. All my albums are unique in and of themselves, some veer more personal while some veer more political. Sometimes I’m more inward looking, and sometimes more outward looking.

I think we all have these different moments in our life that we move through. On this album, there was a lot of looking at my society, my culture, and speaking to things bigger than I.

I feel like I shouldn’t say this, but I wonder if it’s the last in a series.

What series is that?

The 23 albums series in the life and times of Ani D. I’m 53 pushing 54,  and I hate to make any statements about my farewell tour or anything, but I feel less motivated to write songs the way I have been. It’s a mode I’ve thoroughly explored. These days, I’m working on a theater piece and writing songs towards a theatrical production.

I’m always creating and inventing in my mind, but there’s definitely an itch to change the mediums.

There’s a lot of dissonant sounds, especially in the two tracks "Baby Roe" and "Unprecedented Sh!t." There's a sense of things falling apart, and that the world is driving you to the edge. Tell me about the state of mind you were in when you wrote those songs.

The reason I wanted to work with BJ is because he lives in world of machines, [and has] an immense facility with machines I know nothing about. After so much making, recording and producing my own records, I have longed to incorporate the noisiness of modern life, and the presence of machines in our lives. I couldn’t do that on my own.

In this modern age, the playing of instruments is just one spice, one ingredient to use in modern recording. There are so many ways to make sounds, put together tracks. With BJ, I was able to explore other worlds. So inherently, through us and the process, this sort of anxious, punishing, frenetic noise of the world comes in. The tenor of life in this world right now expressed itself in the music and recordings, balanced with moments of deep quiet and retreat.

The super dissonant, chaotic sounds BJ created from my guitar [are] really extraordinary. I would make recordings of just me and my guitar, and I overdub a few things — like me playing percussion, or vocal overdubs. He just manipulated [those sounds] in his spaceship, surrounded by buttons, toggles and dials, to create the soundscapes but the raw materials were extremely organic.

The only thing not manipulated is my voice.

On "New Bible," you sing "Our roots are meant to be interwoven" and that "men should stand down when women give birth." Tell me about your view of women, their role as leaders and mothers, and whether your views have changed over time.

I think that my views haven’t changed in that I feel differently, but I understand more in terms of reproductive freedom for women. It’s an essential civil right, the centerpiece of what it means to be free as a woman in society. As I get older, I understand with my full being that consciousness supersedes the body. Our spirit bodes and re-embodies, and this is one of many lives, identities and stories, and essentially me and you are one being. We are God, you and I and every living thing. Women are agents of creation. I wrote a song, "Play God," a few years ago: "you don’t get to play God man, I do". I’m literally the creator in this situation.

You have to respect creation and agents of creation, such as women. I speak to it in "New Bible" and in "Baby Roe," that we need to step back a minute from patriarchal religious dogma, from political debate, and look at what it is to be alive. It is not the body. Consciousness is the spirit, the soul, is God, and is light, and that is eternal. So, there!

Did performing as Persephone in "Hadestown" on Broadway have an impact on the music or themes on this album, in which you sing about hell and the sanctity of women, or was there just an organic alignment?

I relate very much to the character, and I have been involved in the trajectory of "Hadestown" since the beginning, since it was a gleam in Anaïs Mitchell's eye, so it’s very cool to come back into the fray after all these years to perform the part on stage. 

There are two couples in the musical: Orpheus and Eurydice, the young starry-eyed lovers, and Hades and Persephone, the old couple, married for eons as Gods. They’ve been through it all together, there’s a real push and pull tension between them, and Persephone is the bestower of life on Earth, joy, and bounty, while Hades is the captain of industry and the underworld — which represents the hell of the modern world and its enslavement of humankind. 

It’s a prescient modern take on Greek mythology. The relationship between her and Hades, you know they don’t ride into the sunset, but there’s hope – like, "we’ll try again next year" – and after being married for 20 years [to music professional Mike Napolitano], I very much relate to that need to renew one’s love and one’s relationship.

I’ve been a fan of yours since "Dilate" and so many of your songs are deeply personal to me. Do you have favorites from your earlier albums, or songs of yours that feel deeply necessary to perform live and to revisit frequently?

Certainly there’s a bunch that have risen as favorites for me, mostly because they work live, they’re very playable, and [are] other people’s favorites. Some that don’t work well live because they’re too slow, or sad, or too something, are my secret favorites. Those are "Hypnotized," "Hour Follows Hour," "Albacore" or "The Atom," which is epic at 10 minutes.

There’s a lot of allusion to nature on this album, which is quite different to those earlier albums in which you were in bars, on trains and on the road. Tell me about how your connection to the land informs who you are, how you live, and your perspective.

It’s been a long time coming. I’ve been a city kid most of my life and I’ve been rapt with the human drama therein, but like many humans, it gets old. The land —  all the forms of consciousness that are not human, all the sentient beings…plants, trees, rocks — is something more profound than human drama.

I live in Louisiana, New Orleans, way, way, way on the edge of town, right on the Mississippi River, which feels both very remote and very New Orleans. It very much feels like home after 20 years now. It’s an immense place, culturally and musically, and I love being surrounded by snakes, owls, the birds on the river: herons, eagles, ducks, egrets. It’s immense and wonderful. Turtles wander by in this big swamp. I really love it there.

You sing "I defy being defined" on "The Thing At Hand." Do you feel that rather than growing into firmer descriptions or identifying labels, you’ve actually shed them instead and is that liberating or confusing?

I feel I’ve always been in the business of shedding labels, but the world is doubling down. I sang about relationships with women and men when I was young, or I sang about my experience as a young woman not wedded to gender being the defining character of a person, or sexual orientation, or race, or blood. I feel like I've always tried to write revolution through just the approach to storytelling and my songs. You cannot hold me down with your preconceived notions of identities and "us and them" and tribe, so I feel like I've always been at this work. And in America, I feel like identity politics has become so fever pitched.

I’m a child of the '70s when identity politics was about asserting identity and waking up culture to the fact that we’re not all middle-aged white dudes, but it’s as though the tool of liberation has become the cage itself. [My children’s book] The Knowing speaks to this: Use identity for whatever purpose it serves to know and find yourself, your tribe, to know you’re not alone but also beware of identity and ending up in a silo, at odds with your fellow humans.

 On 'Little Rope,' Sleater-Kinney Still Wear Their Hearts On Their Sleeves

William Bell, HANSON and Elle King have been added to the lineup for the Recording Academy and GRAMMY Museum's inaugural GRAMMY Hall Of Fame Gala, taking place on May 21, at The Novo in Downtown Los Angeles.

Previously announced performers include Andra Day, Ravyn Lenae, Shinedown and The War and Treaty. The evening will include a red carpet and VIP reception on the Ray Charles Terrace at the GRAMMY Museum followed by a one-of-a-kind concert at The Novo. The Gala will also pay tribute to iconic record label Atlantic Records. The evening will be hosted by veteran CBS broadcast journalist Anthony Mason, who will be joined by Michael Sticka, President/CEO of the GRAMMY Museum, Harvey Mason jr., CEO of the Recording Academy, and Julie Greenwald, chairperson and CEO of Atlantic Records Group. 

Performers will pay tribute to the 2024 GRAMMY Hall Of Fame inducted recordings. Andra Day will perform a song from Lauryn Hill's The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill; William Bell will perform his song "You Don't Miss Your Water"; The War and Treaty will perform Charley Pride's "Kiss An Angel Good Morning"; Elle King will perform Wanda Jackson's "Let's Have A Party." HANSON will perform the Doobie Brothers' "What A Fool Believes"; Ravyn Lenae will perform Roberta Flack's "Killing Me Softly;" and Shinedown will perform Led Zeppelin's "Stairway To Heaven." Tickets are on sale to the general public and more information about the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame Gala is available on the website. 

The inaugural Hall Of Fame Gala will honor the 2024 GRAMMY Hall Of Fame inducted recordings on its 50th Anniversary, including De La Soul's 3 Feet High And Rising, Guns N' Roses' Appetite For Destruction, Buena Vista Social Club's Buena Vista Social Club, and Lauryn Hill's The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill, as well as recordings by Donna Summer, Charley Pride, Wanda Jackson, Kid Ory's Creole Orchestra, the Doobie Brothers, and William Bell. 

This year's show will be produced by longtime Executive Producer of the GRAMMY Awards, Ken Ehrlich, along with Chantel Sausedo and Ron Basile. Musical Direction by globally renowned producer and keyboardist Greg Phillinganes. The Gala is presented by City National Bank. 

An online auction is currently underway alongside the Hall Of Fame Gala, featuring a vast collection of guitars signed by an array of major artists including Taylor Swift, Dua Lipa, Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo, Joni Mitchell, Billy Joel, and many others, as well as Platinum tickets to the 2025 GRAMMY Awards and more. Proceeds will benefit the GRAMMY Museum. Click HERE for more info. 

The GRAMMY Hall Of Fame was established by the Recording Academy's National Trustees in 1973. The inducted recordings are selected annually by a special member committee of eminent and knowledgeable professionals from all branches of the recording arts with final ratification by the Recording Academy's National Board of Trustees. With 10 new titles, the Hall currently totals 1,152 inducted recordings in the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame. Recipients will receive an official certificate from the Recording Academy and GRAMMY Museum. See the full list of past inducted recordings here.

GRAMMY Hall Of Fame Gala 2024 Performers Announced

It was a big week for music in Memphis. The 45th annual Blues Music Awards, a top honor in the genre, were handed out on Thursday, May 9, in Memphis, Tenn. in a ceremony sponsored by the Recording Academy. The awards were the capstone to several days of blues-related events, including the annual Blues Hall of Fame induction ceremony the day before.  

An audience of approximately 1,000 — including industry professionals, fans, and some of the genre's biggest artists — packed the grand main exhibit hall of the recently renovated Renasant Convention Center for the BMAs banquet, produced by the Memphis-based Blues Foundation. With 25 awards and more than a dozen performances, the awards show, hosted by broadcast veteran Tavis Smiley, often felt more like a homecoming than an industry event.

Read below for four key takeaways from this year's Blues Music Awards and Blue Hall of Fame Ceremony.

Mississippi's Blues Roots Remain Strong

Located right next to Memphis, Mississippi is home to one of the country's four GRAMMY Museums and is widely regarded as one of the birthplaces — if not the birthplace — of the blues. The state has nurtured some of the genre's greatest talents, including Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, and B.B. King. The Magnolia State's deep connection to the blues was evident during the awards, with Mississippi mainstays and GRAMMY winners Bobby Rush and Christone "Kingfish" Ingram among the top winners. 

Despite a 65-year age difference, Rush and Ingram share a deep devotion to the blues. At 90 years old, Rush, an incredibly spry chitlin' circuit road warrior who has re-emerged in recent years as perhaps one the blues' biggest stars, won Best Soul Blues Album for All My Love for You and his second B.B. King Entertainer of the Year award. Ingram, only 25 years old and already a GRAMMY winner for Best Contemporary Blues Album in 2022, was the night's top winner, taking home four awards: Album of the Year and Contemporary Blues Album of the Year for Live in London, Contemporary Blues Male Artist, and Instrumentalist-Guitar.

Other multiple award winners included another artist originally from Mississippi, 79-year-old Chicago guitarist John Primer, who won Traditional Blues Male Artist and Traditional Blues Album for Teardrops for Magic Slim, and Texas' Ruthie Foster, who captured top vocalist honors and won Song of the Year for "What Kind Of Fool," co-written with Hadden Sayers and Scottie Miller.

The Blues Need To Be Seen To Be Heard

Though the BMAs largely honor recorded works, the show itself emphasized that the blues are a genre best experienced live. The ceremony, which ran about four hours (historically on the shorter side for this event), was packed full of performances, most running longer than your typical awards show slots. 

Highlights included the opening set by emerging artist nominee Candice Ivory, who performed selections from her BMA-nominated album When the Levee Breaks: The Music of Memphis Minnie, backed by keyboardist Ben Levin and guitarist William Lee Ellis, who also played songs from his album Ghost Hymns, a nominee for Best Acoustic Album.

Another Mississippi artist, powerhouse bandleader Castro Coleman, known as Mr. Sipp, who has one GRAMMY nomination and an appearance on a GRAMMY-winning Count Basie Orchestra album, brought the crowd to their feet early with his gospel-fueled segment. To cement his Best Guitarist win, Ingram delivered a blistering performance with his band, wading into the audience for one of his beautifully precise, soaring solos.

There was so much music to be heard that it spilled out into the streets. Most nights following BMA-related events, fans and fellow artists could be found in the clubs on Beale Street, the famous Home of the Blues, for showcases and impromptu jam sessions. These were highlighted by the 10th annual Down In the Basement fundraiser for the Blues Foundation on Wednesday. Organized and hosted by Big Llou Johnson, a blues musician and host of Sirius XM's B.B. King's Bluesville channel, the show featured appearances by Mr. Sipp, GRAMMY nominees Southern Avenue, and more.

Honoring The Blues' Past

Among the other events that made up BMA week was the Blues Hall of Fame Induction ceremony, held on May 8 at Memphis' Cannon Center for the Performing Arts before a crowd of about 200, including past inductees Bobby Rush and Taj Mahal. Hosted by artists Gaye Adegbalola (Saffire — the Uppity Blues Women), GRAMMY winner Dom Flemons (Carolina Chocolate Drops), and veteran blues radio deejay Bill Wax, the observance saw the induction of seven artists, five blues singles, one album, a book, and a blues academic into the Hall of Fame.

Highlights from the evening included Alligator Records head Bruce Iglauer's humor-filled induction of Chicago house stompers Lil' Ed & the Blues Imperials in the performers category; the heartfelt introduction of the late folk singer Odetta by her friend Maria Muldaur and the emotional acceptance by Odetta's daughter, Michelle Esrick; and former National Endowment for the Humanities chairman William R. Ferris, inducted as a non-performer, delivering a circuitous-but-engrossing recounting of his life documenting blues music and culture.

Bringing The Blues To Life 

Taj Mahal stands in front of the exhibit featuring his own hologram. | Photo: Kimberly Horton

One of the non-award related highlights of the week was the opening of a new exhibit at the Blues Foundation's Blues Hall of Fame, also on May 8, which introduced a high-tech element to the down-home genre. Musician Taj Mahal was on hand the day before for the unveiling of a cutting-edge AI-powered hologram of himself that acts as a virtual tour guide for the Half of Fame, allowing visitors to interact with the blues great. 

This hologram, only the second exhibit of its kind in America (the first is in the Folk Americana Roots Hall of Fame in Boston), uses Holobox, a new technology from Holoconnects, to render a life-like image that can answer questions, talk about exhibits, and play instruments. Taj Mahal, who had to sit and talk for several hours for the technology to scan his likeness and voice, is the first artist to receive the virtual treatment from the Blues Foundation. Bobby Rush and Keb' Mo' are expected to be added later.

Explore the full list of 2024 BMA winners below to celebrate the artists keeping the blues alive and discover who took home the top honors this year. 

2024 BMA Winners

B.B. King Entertainer of the Year

Bobby Rush

Album of the Year

Live In London, Christone "Kingfish" Ingram

Band of the Year

Nick Moss Band

Song of the Year

"What Kind Of Fool," written by Ruthie Foster, Hadden Sayers & Scottie Miller

Best Emerging Artist Album

The Right Man, D.K. Harrell

Acoustic Blues Album

Raw Blues 1, Doug MacLeod

Blues Rock Album

Blood Brothers, Mike Zito/ Albert Castiglia

Contemporary Blues Album

Live In London, Christone "Kingfish" Ingram

Soul Blues Album

All My Love For You, Bobby Rush

Traditional Blues Album

Teardrops for Magic Slim, John Primer

Acoustic Blues Artist

Keb' Mo'

Blues Rock Artist

Mike Zito

Contemporary Blues Female Artist

Danielle Nicole

Contemporary Blues Male Artist

Christone "Kingfish" Ingram

Soul Blues Female Artist

Annika Chambers

Soul Blues Male Artist

John Nemeth

Traditional Blues Female Artist (Koko Taylor Award)

Sue Foley

Traditional Blues Male Artist

John Primer

Instrumentalist – Bass

Bob Stroger

Instrumentalist – Drums

Kenny "Beedy Eyes" Smith

Instrumentalist – Guitarist

Christone "Kingfish" Ingram

Instrumentalist – Harmonica

Jason Ricci

Instrumentalist – Horn

Vanessa Collier

Instrumentalist – Piano (Pinetop Perkins Award)

Kenny "Blues Boss" Wayne

Instrumentalist – Vocals

Ruthie Foster

Washington D.C. Chapter Dinner & Conversation Answers "Can We Have Rhythm Without the Blues?"