Despite their many groundbreaking contributions to the culture, women have long been pushed to the periphery of hip-hop. In a new Netflix docuseries, they're getting their long overdue flowers.

Debuting on Aug. 9, "Ladies First: A Story of Women in Hip-Hop" delves into the remarkable contributions and personal histories of the Black women who shaped hip-hop culture. The four-episode series details how these women changed the world while combating misogyny, racism, colorism and beyond. 

Unfolding from the '70s on, each episode features candid interviews with pioneers and trailblazers — including Sha-Rock, Roxanne Shanté, Queen Latifah, Rah Digga, MC Lyte, Yo-Yo and Da Brat — whose unique journeys and pivotal contributions have long been erased from the narrative. Contemporary artists Tierra Whack, Kash Doll, Chika, Saweetie and Latto are also featured, and discuss their influences and the adversities they face as they carve their own paths in the male-dominated industry. 

Alongside key insights and eye-opening context from cultural critics, writers and professors, "Ladies First" also spotlights the culture's most iconic stylists including Misa Hylton, the pioneering fashion designer and stylist behind Lil' Kim's head-turning purple, one-sleeved jumpsuit and accompanying pasty from the '99 VMAs. "I created a blueprint that people followed. That other artists reinterpreted. And fashion brands have also taken a piece," Hylton says in the film.

Even the most devoted hip-hop fans will learn something new. Among the revelations, producer Drew Dixon suggested that Method Man's "All I Need" was too groundbreaking for an album interlude. He pushed for it to be extended into a full-on single, with vocals from Mary J. Blige.

"I was like, 'This has to be a record.' There is nothing in hip-hop articulating Black love and Black male vulnerability and mutual respect for a woman in a romantic context ever. And if it's an interlude, no one's going to hear it," he recalls in "Ladies First."

From the unsung matriarchs who weaved the first stitch in the fabric of the artform to contemporary artists who continue to break new ground, here are six takeaways from the heartfelt homage to the women who continue to shape the sonic and social landscapes of hip-hop.

Sha-Rock Broke Ground On 'SNL' And Beyond

Born and raised in the Bronx, Sha-Rock started out her career as a B-girl in the early '70s before hip-hop even had its name. In 1976, she auditioned to join the Funky Four, an all-male hip-hop quartet that later rebranded as the Funky Four Plus One (she was the plus-one). 

A few years later, Debbie Harry would help facilitate a game-changing moment for the female emcee. The "Call Me" singer was looking for a hip-hop group to showcase on an episode of "Saturday Night Live" and Sha-Rock and her crew were the perfect candidates.  

"She could've went after anybody but she chose the  Funky Four Plus One  more," Sha-Rock explains. "The reason why she did that is because we looked young. We looked innocent. There was a female that was involved. And she wanted the world to see what the Bronx in New York City was doing."

The Funky Four Plus One became the first hip-hop group to perform on broadcast television. But that was only the beginning for Sha-Rock. The first female emcee of hip-hop culture also popularized the now ubiquitous echo chamber effect, which involves repeating a phrase or word for emphasis. DMC of RUN-D.M.C. recalls hearing her use the effect on a record and becoming completely obsessed with the style. 

Without Sylvia Robinson, There'd Be No "Rapper's Delight" 

"Rapper's Delight" by the Sugarhill Gang is one of the earliest and most influential rap songs, but it may not have existed if not for the vision of Sylvia Robinson. The artist, producer and businesswoman had co-founded Sugar Hill Records with her husband in 1979 and was in search of a rap group to sign to the label.  

She first heard rapper Big Bank Hank rhyming in a pizza parlor, where she soon approached him about recording music. After he introduced her to Wonder Mike and Master Gee, Robinson decided to bring the trio together to form the Sugarhill Gang. She also took on the role of producer, shaping their debut single "Rapper's Delight," the first commercial rap single. She even had the foresight to cast white women in the music video for the iconic track in an effort to  create crossover appeal. 

And her plan worked."Rapper’s Delight" became the first rap single to break the Billboard Hot 100 Top 40. The song's popularity signaled the commercial viability of hip-hop as a genre, paving the way for future rap artists to gain recognition and airplay. Robinson would go on to co-produce more legendary hip-hop tracks, and continue to run various labels. 

Women Have Been Political Players, Both Vilified And Endorsed 

Acts like Public Enemy are lauded for infusing their music with political messages, but female emcees like MC Lyte, Sister Souljah and Queen Latifah have long used their platform to highlight inequality and social issues affecting the Black community.

But they weren't always able to share these views without impunity. In fact, rapper/activist Sister Souljah was used as a political scapegoat because of her remarks following the acquittal of police officers in the 1992 Rodney King incident. Then-presidential hopeful Bill Clinton criticized her comments, going so far as to call her racist, in an attempt to distance himself from the "radical" side of the Democratic Party and appeal to more moderate voters. 

But as the culture grew and became a mainstay on the charts, radio, television and beyond, things began to shift toward the better. In 2014, MC Lyte became the first female artist to perform hip-hop at the White House during the Obama Administration. 

And the ladies of hip-hop continue to use their platforms to start conversations and enact political change. GRAMMY winner Cardi B has made headlines for using her social media platform to discuss politics with fans, and raise awareness of social issues.

They Continue To Face Double Standards

Since the early days of rap when a young Roxanne Shanté was objectified and demeaned in rap diss tracks by her adult male peers, the women of rap have had to contend with a trifecta of terrible: misogyny, hypersexualization and impossible beauty standards. 

"You have one pressure to be commercial and sell. The sexier the better. And an equally competing and loud pressure that that image is irresponsible and that you need to be Michelle Obama," says Kash Doll.

Objectifying women's bodies and promiscuity are common themes in mainstream rap songs from men, but when women rappers turn the tables and own their sexuality, they are vilified by their peers and the public alike. There are countless examples: from Lil' Kim and Foxy Brown in the '90s, to Nicki Minaj, Megan Thee Stallion and Cardi B more recently.  

But taking an opposite approach also invites criticism. "As a new rapper in this space, I remember the amount of vitriol that got spit at me and the conversations that I was unwillingly thrown into discussing what I look like," Chika shares in the film. "I remember in the early days of me doing viral videos and rapping and being on social media, some of the comments would be 'Yeah, she's amazing but they'll never be able to market her. She's never gonna make it that far because of her looks.'" 

The Ladies Of Hip-Hop Get Caught Up, Too

Much like their male peers, the ladies of hip-hop have also fallen victim to mass incarceration for drug distribution, tax evasion, assault or simply refusing to snitch. 

"I don't think that Black women rappers escape the really vulnerable position that Black women in America find themselves in," says writer and professor Salamishah Tillet. "There's always a vulnerability due to class, due to race and due to the particular ways in which they're expressing their rage and frustration, internally and externally, that makes them vulnerable to mass incarceration."

And then there's that hip-hop double standard. There's no street cred waiting for these ladies when they get out. As Remy Ma explains, "I had a hard time getting people to not see me as this girl who was convicted and did all this time in jail. The things they would never ever care about from a guy, like he could do a million and one years for whatever his crime was and they wouldn't even care. They'd cheer him on."

Through It All, Sisterhood Remains The Key

Today, the future is brighter than ever for the women of hip-hop who are able to control their narratives in unprecedented ways. Artists are opening up about their sexuality, mental health and motherhood in their lyrics, which was unheard of in mainstream rap of the past. But there is one thing that has never changed: the enduring sisterhood among the ladies of hip-hop. 

Whether it's GloRilla and her Glo-gang, Missy co-siging next-gen talents like Flyana Boss or Rapsody's exhilarating and empowering homage to her peers and heroes at the BET Awards, the women of hip-hop's past and present are pushing back against this narrative that they have to be at odds to be successful. The sprawling and diverse lineup of contemporary women rappers shows that there's room for everyone in the limelight. 

"That's what I like most about this wave right now. We all different shades. We all from different places. We all stand for something different," says Latto. 

Despite concerted efforts by the media, labels and fandoms to divide these talented emcees, they continue to embrace and uplift each other. And when they all hop on a record together, music lovers and the culture reap the benefits — as seen with iconic tracks like "Ladies Night,"  "I Wanna Be Down" featuring MC Lyte, Yo-Yo and Queen Latifah," Saweetie and Doja Cat's "Best Friend" and Meg and Cardi's "WAP."        

Ladies First: 10 Essential Albums By Female Rappers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This interview has been edited for clarity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blanchard: That's what people want, man.

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

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

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

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

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

Humor is a powerful tool amid grief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This interview has been edited for clarity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Eazi’s Gallery: How The Afrobeats Star Brought His Long-Awaited Album To Life With African Art

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pixies - Surfer Rosa (1988)

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

PJ Harvey - Rid of Me (1993)

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

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

Nirvana - In Utero (1993)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Code Orange - The Above (2023)

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

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

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

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What is about the Beatles' Let it Be sessions that continues to bedevil diehards?

Even after their aperture was tremendously widened with Get Back — Peter Jackson's three-part, almost eight hour, 2021 doc — something's always been missing. Because it was meant as a corrective to a film that, well, most of us haven't seen in a long time — if at all.

That's Let it Be, the original 1970 documentary on those contested, pivotal, hot-and-cold sessions, directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg. Much of the calcified lore around the Beatles' last stand comes not from the film itself, but what we think is in the film.

Let it Be does contain a couple of emotionally charged moments between maturing Beatles. The most famous one: George Harrison getting snippy with Paul McCartney over a guitar part, which might just be the most blown-out-of-proportion squabble in rock history.

But superfans smelled blood in the water: the film had to be a locus for the Beatles' untimely demise. To which the film's director, Michael Lindsay-Hogg, might say: did we see the same movie?

"Looking back from history's vantage point, it seems like everybody drank the bad batch of Kool-Aid," he tells GRAMMY.com. Lindsay-Hogg had just appeared at an NYC screening, and seemed as surprised by it as the fans: "Because the opinion that was first formed about the movie, you could not form on the actual movie we saw the other night."

He's correct. If you saw Get Back, Lindsay-Hogg is the babyfaced, cigar-puffing auteur seen throughout; today, at 84, his original vision has been reclaimed. On May 8, Disney+ unveiled a restored and refreshed version of the Let it Be film — a historical counterweight to Get Back. Temperamentally, though, it's right on the same wavelength, which is bound to surprise some Fabs disciples.

With the benefit of Peter Jackson's sound-polishing magic and Giles Martin's inspired remixes of performances, Let it Be offers a quieter, more muted, more atmospheric take on these sessions. (Think fewer goofy antics, and more tight, lingering shots of four of rock's most evocative faces.)

As you absorb the long-on-ice Let it Be, here are some lesser-known facts about this film, and the era of the Beatles it captures — with a little help from Lindsay-Hogg himself.

The Beatles Were Happy With The Let It Be Film

After Lindsay-Hogg showed the Beatles the final rough cut, he says they all went out to a jovial meal and drinks: "Nice food, collegial, pleasant, witty conversation, nice wine."

Afterward, they went downstairs to a discotheque for nightcaps. "Paul said he thought Let it Be was good. We'd all done a good job," Lindsay-Hogg remembers. "And Ringo and [wife] Maureen were jiving to the music until two in the morning."

"They had a really, really good time," he adds. "And you can see like [in the film], on their faces, their interactions — it was like it always was."

About "That" Fight: Neither Paul Nor George Made A Big Deal

At this point, Beatles fanatics can recite this Harrison-in-a-snit quote to McCartney: "I'll play, you know, whatever you want me to play, or I won't play at all if you don't want me to play. Whatever it is that will please you… I'll do it." (Yes, that's widely viewed among fans as a tremendous deal.)

If this was such a fissure, why did McCartney and Harrison allow it in the film? After all, they had say in the final cut, like the other Beatles.

"Nothing was going to be in the picture that they didn't want," Lindsay-Hogg asserts. "They never commented on that. They took that exchange as like many other exchanges they'd had over the years… but, of course, since they'd broken up a month before [the film's release], everyone was looking for little bits of sharp metal on the sand to think why they'd broken up."

About Ringo's "Not A Lot Of Joy" Comment…

Recently, Ringo Starr opined that there was "not a lot of joy" in the Let it Be film; Lindsay-Hogg says Starr framed it to him as "no joy."

Of course, that's Starr's prerogative. But it's not quite borne out by what we see — especially that merry scene where he and Harrison work out an early draft of Abbey Road's "Octopus's Garden."

"And Ringo's a combination of so pleased to be working on the song, pleased to be working with his friend, glad for the input," Lindsay-Hogg says. "He's a wonderful guy. I mean, he can think what he wants and I will always have greater affection for him.

"Let's see if he changes his mind by the time he's 100," he added mirthfully.

Lindsay-Hogg Thought It'd Never Be Released Again

"I went through many years of thinking, It's not going to come out," Lindsay-Hogg says. In this regard, he characterizes 25 or 30 years of his life as "solitary confinement," although he was "pushing for it, and educating for it."

"Then, suddenly, the sun comes out" — which may be thanks to Peter Jackson, and renewed interest via Get Back. "And someone opens the cell door, and Let it Be walks out."

Nobody Asked Him What The Sessions Were Like

All four Beatles, and many of their associates, have spoken their piece on Let it Be sessions — and journalists, authors, documentarians, and fans all have their own slant on them.

But what was this time like from Lindsay-Hogg's perspective? Incredibly, nobody ever thought to check. "You asked the one question which no one has asked," he says. "No one."

So, give us the vibe check. Were the Let it Be sessions ever remotely as tense as they've been described, since man landed on the moon? And to that, Lindsay-Hogg's response is a chuckle, and a resounding, "No, no, no."

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