Brett Anderson could look back on her early experiences with the Donnas with a jaundiced eye, and nobody could blame her. Sure, the ‘90s was when “the fun generation” flourished, as she characterizes it. But for girls and young women, its music landscape could be a viper pit.

“We never went to the bathroom, or anywhere, alone, ever, on tour,” the former “Donna A.” tells GRAMMY.com, while commuting home from her job as a social worker at Long Beach Memorial Hospital. “There was some understanding that bad things happen when you're alone.”

“And I hate to even Voldemort this into life,” Anderson says later — and goes on to recount a shocking article that salivated over the band members' bodies.

Yet Anderson betrays no bitterness: her love for the other three Donnas, and the music they made, permeates her words. Her head’s full of memories of recording their scrappy, precocious punk songs at a Bay Area Mail Boxes Etc.; some of them, like “High School Yum Yum,” “Let’s Rab!” and “Da Doo Ron Ron,” seem to spring from an interband, invented language.

Now, you can hear those tunes anew, via Early Singles 1995-1999, which dropped March 1. It’s a monument to the friendship between Anderson, guitarist Allison Robertson, bassist Maya Ford, and drummer Torry Castellano.

The band they formed as teenagers went on to be signed to a major label, rock the late-night circuit, perform on MTV and even appear in the 1999 teen comedy Jawbreaker. In 2012, after seven albums, the Donnas, unceremoniously and undramatically, “wrapped it up.”

For now, Anderson’s fixed on their beginnings, when anything seemed possible.

“When you're that age — or, really, any age — it's easy to be self-conscious, but I always really looked up to the other three girls and a hundred percent believed in them,” Anderson says. “When we were together, we definitely felt like a force to be reckoned with.”

This interview has been edited for clarity.

I’m very curious about your job as a social worker. But if you’re burned out after a long workday, you don’t have to talk about it.

I don’t think I'm going to be burned out for a couple of years, at least, because I'm on the palliative care team. And it's always been a passion of mine ever since I learned about it, because no one really understands it.

And I'm always attracted to things that are a little bit off the beaten path and not understood, and I want to explain it. So the idea just in general, that hospice and palliative care are not the same thing, if I could just address that, that would be a major victory.

Can you tell me the difference? I didn’t know that.

Yeah, I would love to. So hospice is end-of-life care, and you need a prognosis of six months or less to live. Palliative care is this much broader, much lesser known extra layer of care that people can get if they have any life-limiting illness.

So, anything chronic, anything that you could, not be dying from it, but you might need help with difficult decision-making or uncontrolled symptom management — things like that.

What spurred this life change?

I think part of it was how ageist the music industry is.

Wow, tell me more.

I think I just saw it all around me. People just complaining about feeling old and being out of touch and calling other people old and internalized and externalized ageism. And just so ridiculous, because I feel all -isms are bad.

And I feel that the reason that ageism is bad in particular, is that our age is one of the least informative details about us, because it's constantly changing.

From when we started, it was like we were working against something, so I was like, Oh man, why is it like this? And then I was like, Oh, right. I chose this. I identify as a person who's working against something, OK.

*Photo courtesy of the Donnas.*

I’m looking at a very early photo of the Donnas right now. Does it feel like you were reincarnated into a completely new life or something? Or are you super connected to that version of yourself?

I feel like even at the time, I wasn't super connected to it. I mean, especially with the Donnas, it was a persona, because we started the Donnas as a joke band — like a side band. And our real band was called the Electrocutes.

When we were doing the Donnas, it was a shtick — tongue in cheek. And I think some people didn't know that we were in on the joke, because we're too young and there was an older man who could have been a Svengali involved. They assumed that we didn't understand the context with which we were living.

Sounds pretty misogynistic to me.

It's crazy, yeah. It is actually really funny that you said, because I'm watching “Mad Men” for the first time, so it's getting me all riled up again about just the s— you have to do to get by in a world where the rules are not made for you. And I realized so clearly that I'm really only talking about one identity, and that's gender. But yeah, it was hard.

What do you remember about the emotional or psychological atmosphere back then, being as young as you were?

There’s one thing I did not remember until the drummer, Torry, and I just did this interview for some archive in Texas not too long ago. She always remembers things that I would never, ever remember, and it was such a huge part of our existence.

We never went to the bathroom, or anywhere, alone, ever, on tour.

Whoa. What was up with that?

I don't remember the specific incident or incidents that started that, but whatever it was, there was some understanding that bad things happen when you're alone — whether it was when we were on Warped Tour, or when we were just on tour.

And the smaller clubs didn't seem that bad, because you usually know those people. But when the clubs started getting bigger and it was more anonymous — yeah, you don't go anywhere alone.

Just out of general safety concerns?

I think it was multilevel. It was just your general safety. And then there's also the reality of the things that people said to us from when we were in middle school and high school. They would literally say, "Go home and play with your dolls, girls can't play rock and roll."

And I mean, we thought it was funny. We weren't personally wounded by it, but people will say things to you when you're alone that they won't say when you're with another person. Usually, sexual harassment doesn't happen on stage; it's backstage.

It was ‘93 when we started, so we were 13.

That’s really young.

Yeah, I know. And I mean, I hate to even Voldemort this into life, but there'd be articles that would say something like our "bouncing nubile breasts." And we're like, "F—." I wore two bras for a year after that — like, This is not what I want to be putting out there.

To drill into the Early Singles collection: what do you remember about these sessions? These are pretty scrappy recordings.

We were recording at Mail Boxes Etc. after hours. So we would just throw the equipment up on the counter. That was when we were doing the Donnas with [producer] Darin Raffaelli, and he worked there, so we could get in there after, at night. We would smell them baking donuts next door.

I'm still like this when it comes to creativity. I'm so much more creative at night when everyone else is asleep, because there's less external noise distracting you, and you're not missing anything; you can be in your own world. The whole world fell away when we were doing that. We were just us, in that Mail Boxes Etc.: in heaven.

What was your interband friendship like? Were you like a Beatles-style four-headed monster?

In a way. Actually, it's funny. I think about things like that a lot, and I haven't applied it to our band ever. But yeah, I mean, when you put four people in a vacuum, everything's relative, someone's the most like this and someone's the most like that.

I think as compared to other bands like the Spice Girls or things like that, where people have really defined identities, we didn't pigeonhole each other or ourselves as much, I don't think.

Despite the tongue-in-cheek, Ramonesy conceit — everybody has the same name, we’re a happy family — it sounds like you were all very serious about the band. It sounds like you were driven to do something substantial.

I think there are a lot of people who are dying to be famous and to make it. And those were never words that we used or feelings that we felt.

It wasn't that we wanted to be big and famous for no reason. We wanted to be as committed as possible to the band, so that we could go as far as we could with the band, because we believed in what we were doing.

The content was the driving force, the fact that we were with friends playing music that we loved. That was the important part, not the ultimate scope of the thing.

You believed in the songs and each other. Plain and simple.

Yeah, yeah.

Do any moments or tunes from this collection stick out in your memory?

Well, the first one that pops into my head is “I Don't Wanna Go to School No More.” Which is funny, because I think we all ended up going back to school, but it's different when you're older. It's a whole new game.

We had a couple of songs, “Let's Rab” and “Let's Go Mano!” They were made-up words, which I always love. Rab, it's so random, was what this one guy in school called this other guy in school. His name was Rob, but he called him Rab, and then we made it into slang for partying.

I’m just thinking about believing in the songs and in each other. When you're that age — or, really, any age — it's easy to be self-conscious, but I always really looked up to the other three girls and a hundred percent believed in them.

So, whenever I was self-conscious about myself, I was never self-conscious about our band. It was fun to walk into a new venue and be able to feel confident.

I just know that we were bringing something good, even if I sometimes doubted myself. And I think everyone may have doubted themselves too, in a singular way. When we were together, we definitely felt like a force to be reckoned with.

What was up with “I Wanna Be a Unabomber?”

That was from the before times. Every once in a while, I'll have a shame wave thinking about that. I mean, it was just a different world…

Personally, I love it. That’s the best title in the entire thing.

Well, that's the thing about humor, isn't it? It's like what's funny on a certain day in a certain context, it's horrifying in a different one. So, there you go; that was an extreme statement.

Any other anecdotes pop up?

Another amazing thing that we got to do was, when we were 16 — I think between junior and senior year of high school, or maybe it was between sophomore and junior, we got to go to Japan for a week and play five shows.

Wow, what was that like?

It was just beyond our wildest imaginations. It was 16-year olds in a band flying to Japan. There were people waiting at the airport when we got there. And we felt like what the Beatles would feel like, a little bit.

The clubs that we played at were so cool. One of them [was] four stories underground and just completely thick with smoke — and as a singer, that's horrible. But just as a memory, there's just nothing like it.

What do you remember about how these sessions — and your early success — flowed into the next stages of your career?

I think one thing we are really lucky about is that everything grew very gradually and incrementally. So, we never had that big spike. And I think often when someone does have a big spike, then they have a huge drop that's just as steep. And for us, it was like we just gradually grew and grew and grew.

And then, it made it nice on the other side, when we just gradually stopped saying yes to as many things and wrapped it up. But without having some big blowout, break up, farewell tour or anything.

While you were saying that, I was remembering seeing the Donnas open for the Hives at the Fillmore, in 2008. You played “Smoke You Out” and green lights came on.

Oh, I love that song so much. “Everybody’s Smoking Cheeba” — that’s another early one.

I mean, it does seem so quaint, and such a different time. Because now, I'm thinking about our photo shoot for the cover for [our self-titled 1997 debut] The Donnas.

I don't remember where we were, but we just went to some school with a camera and took some pictures and that was it. It was just so very simple. And also sometimes it felt like it was almost not real. We were like, "Oh, we're going to do a photo shoot, because we're a band and we're going to make a record." Because there was no one watching.

And I'm just so glad we got to grow and spend all this time learning our instruments and our positions without that critical eye so much. Because I don't know that any of us would've enjoyed it.

How would you compare the music industry when the Donnas began versus when they ended?

I don't want to sound negative, but I think it was amazing in the '90s.

I mean, all of MTV and Sub Pop and Kill Rock Stars and Maximum Rocknroll and Spin and Rolling Stone — there was just so much good content, and so many authentic bands that were actually independent and actually alternative. And it just felt so inspiring.

And then towards the end of it, social media was coming into it and you had to be creating content all the time. And for me, that blew the mystique on both sides as a band and as a fan. I do remember thinking when I first started listening to Sonic Youth imagining Thurston Moore having breakfast, and thinking about stuff like that was exciting, but I don't actually want to see that. I wanted it in my imagination. It was better in my imagination.

I realize that that probably ties me to a certain generation. But maybe you just like whatever's happening when you're in your teens and twenties better than when you're in your thirties. But I don't know, I'm not sure about the reasoning behind that.

But I feel like there was just a lot of room for growth and people could get into it, younger, smaller bands could. There was a place for people to enter the industry.

Are you still playing music?

I do things here and there. I don't pursue anything, but sometimes things will pop up. Like, “That ‘90s Show.” I did the theme song for that; James Iha's doing the music for the show. He had my number from when we were on Lollapalooza 20 years ago, and just neither of us changed our numbers.

It's just so cool when things happen like that, where it's like you plant this little seed two decades ago, and then it sprouts in 2023. So I'm always up for stuff like that.

I've been playing with some Irish bands in L.A., which has been really fun. There's a band called The Ne'er-Do-Wells that I've done stuff with. I had a couple of side projects. And I don't know, also still writing music on my own for nothing and no one, which is always fun.

That’s a nice counterweight to your professional life.

It's nice to be able to pursue another thing. When I first went back to school, I started studying psychology, and I finished my BA, which I started in 1997.

It took, what, twenty-something years? I just went to one semester in '97 before we went on the first tour, and then went back to school in 2012. And I finished my BA in 2019.

I can see how your music career blossomed into your love of helping human beings.

Oh, yeah. I think in the band, there was an element of helping people. After every show, when we would meet people, they would say, "I listen to your music to feel confident, and feel better about myself, too, as an example that girls can play rock and roll."

We had these two shows in Joshua Tree called Desert Moon at Pappy and Harriet's, and they were fan club shows. And after one of them, someone told me that they flew for the first time in their life to get to that show, so it was a motivating factor. Another one: someone told me that they listened to our music before they came out to their parents.

So it's the idea that music can be empowering and liberating and give people permission to feel a certain way, I feel is something very similar to what I do now.

I mean, social work is all about empowering people, and respecting their agency, and trying to figure out what motivates people — and to activate that, and advocate for that.

The Exploding Hearts' Terry Six Shares The Stories Behind Guitar Romantic

Three months after OneRepublic began promoting their sixth album, Artificial Paradise, in February 2022, the band unexpectedly had their biggest release in nearly a decade. The pop-rock band's carefree jam, "I Ain't Worried," soundtracked Top Gun: Maverick's most memeable scene and quickly became a global smash — ultimately delaying album plans in favor of promoting their latest hit.

Two years later, "I Ain't Worried" is one of 16 tracks on Artificial Paradise, which arrived July 12. It's a seamless blend of songs that will resonate with longtime and newer fans alike. From the layered production of "Hurt," to the feel-good vibes of "Serotonin," to the evocative lyrics of "Last Holiday," Artificial Paradise shows that OneRepublic's sound is as dialed-in as it is ever-evolving.

The album also marks the end of an era for OneRepublic, as it's the last in their contract with Interscope Records. But for the group's singer, Ryan Tedder, that means the future is even more exciting than it's been in their entire 15-year career.

"I've never been more motivated to write the best material of my life than this very moment," he asserts. "I'm taking it as a challenge. We've had a lot of fun, and a lot of uplifting records for the last seven or eight years, but I also want to tap back into some deeper material with the band."

As he's been prepping Artificial Paradise with his OneRepublic cohorts, Tedder has also been as busy as he's ever been working with other artists. His career as a songwriter/producer took off almost simultaneously with OneRepublic's 2007 breakthrough, "Apologize" (his first major behind-the-board hit was Leona Lewis' "Bleeding Love"); to this day he's one of the go-to guys for pop's biggest names, from BLACKPINK to Tate McRae.

Tedder sat down with GRAMMY.com to share some of his most prominent memories of OneRepublic's biggest songs, as well as some of the hits he's written with Beyoncé, Adele, Taylor Swift and more.

I was producing and writing other songs for different artists on Epic and Atlantic — I was just cutting my teeth as a songwriter in L.A. This is like 2004. I was at my lowest mentally and financially. I was completely broke. Creditors chasing me, literally dodging the taxman and getting my car repoed, everything.

I had that song in my back pocket for four years. A buddy of mine just reminded me last month, a songwriter from Nashville — Ashley Gorley, actually. We had a session last month, me, him and Amy Allen, and he brought it up. He was like, "Is it true, the story about 'Apologize'? You were completely broke living in L.A. and Epic Records offered you like 100 grand or something just for the right to record the song on one of their artists?"

And that is true. It was, like, 20 [grand], then 50, then 100. And I was salivating. I was, like, I need this money so bad. And I give so many songs to other people, but with that song, I drew a line in the sand and said, "No one will sing this song but me. I will die with this song." 

It was my story, and I just didn't want anyone else to sing it. It was really that simple. It was a song about my past relationships, it was deeply personal. And it was also the song that — I spent two years trying to figure out what my sound was gonna be. I was a solo artist… and I wasn't landing on anything compelling. Then I landed on "Apologize" and a couple of other songs, and I was like, These songs make me think of a band, not solo artist material. So it was the song that led me to the sound of OneRepublic, and it also led me to the idea that I should start a band and not be a solo artist.

We do it every night. I'll never not do it. I've never gotten sick of it once. Every night that we do it, whether I'm in Houston or Hong Kong, I look out at the crowd and look at the band, and I'm like, Wow. This is the song that got us here.

We were halfway through promoting Dreaming Out Loud, our first album. I played basketball every day on tour, and I snapped my Achilles. The tour got canceled. The doctor told me not to even write. And I had this one sliver of an afternoon where my wife had to run an errand. And because I'm sadistic and crazy, I texted [songwriter] Evan Bogart, "I got a three-hour window, race over here. Beyoncé called me and asked me to write her a song. I want to do it with you." He had just come off his huge Rihanna No. 1, and we had an Ashley Tisdale single together.

When you write enough songs, not every day do the clouds part and God looks down on you and goes, "Here." But that's what happened on that day. I turn on the keyboard, the first sound that I play is the opening sound of the song. Sounds like angels singing. And we wrote the song pretty quick, as I recall. 

I didn't get a response [from Beyoncé after sending "Halo" over], which I've now learned is very, very typical of her. I did Miley Cyrus and Beyoncé "II MOST WANTED" [from COWBOY CARTER] — I didn't know that was coming out 'til five days before it came out. And when I did "XO" [from 2013's Beyoncé], I found out that "XO" was coming out 12 hours before it came out. That's how she operates.

["Good Life"] was kind of a Hail Mary. We already knew that "All the Right Moves" would be the first single [from Waking Up]. We knew that "Secrets" was the second single. And in the 11th hour, our engineer at the time — who I ended up signing as a songwriter, Noel Zancanella — had this drum loop that he had made, and he played it for Brent [Kutzle] in our band. Brent said, "You gotta hear this drum loop that Noel made. It's incredible."

He played it for me the next morning, and I was like, "Yo throw some chords to this. I'm writing to this today." They threw some chords down, and the first thing out of my mouth was, [sings] "Oh, this has gotta be the good life." 

It's the perfect example of, oftentimes, the chord I've tried to strike with this band with some of our bigger records, [which] is happy sad. Where you feel nostalgic and kind of melancholic, but at the same time, euphoric. That's what those chords and that melody did for me.

I was like, "Hey guys, would it be weird if I made the hook a whistle?" And everyone was like, "No! Do not whistle!" They're like, "Name the last hit song that had a whistle." And the only one I could think of was, like, Scorpion from like, 1988. [Laughs.] So I thought, To hell with it, man, it's been long enough, who cares? Let's try it. And the whistle kind of made the record. It became such a signature thing.

Adele — "Rumour Has It," '21' (2011)

"Rumour Has It" was the first song I did in probably a four year period, with any artist, that wasn't a ballad. All any artist ever wanted me to write with them or for them, was ballads, because of "Halo," and "Apologize" and "Bleeding Love."

I begged [Adele] to do a [song with] tempo, because we did "Turning Tables," another ballad. She was in a feisty mood [that day], so I was like, "Okay, we're doing a tempo today!"

Rick Rubin was originally producing the whole album. I was determined to produce Adele, not just write — because I wanted a shot to show her that I could, and to show myself. I stayed later after she left, and I remember thinking, What can I do in this record in this song that could be so difficult to reproduce that it might land me the gig?

So I intentionally muted the click track, changed the tempo, and [created that] whole piano bridge. I was making it up as I went. When she got in that morning. I said, "I have a crazy idea for a bridge. It's a movie." She listens and she says, "This is really different, I like this! How do we write to this?" 

I mean, it was very difficult. [But] we finished the song. She recorded the entire song that day. She recorded the whole song in one take. I've never seen anyone do that in my life — before or since.

Then I didn't hear from her for six months. Because I handed over the files, and Rick Rubin's doing it, so I don't need to check on it. I randomly check on the status of the song — and at this point, if you're a songwriter or producer, you're assuming that they're not keeping the songs. Her manager emails my manager, "Hey, good news — she's keeping both songs they did, and she wants Ryan to finish 'Rumour Has It' production and mix it." 

When I finally asked her, months later — probably at the GRAMMYs — I said, "Why didn't [Rick] do it?" She said, "Oh he did. It's that damn bridge! Nobody could figure out what the hell you were doing…It was so problematic that we just gave up on it."

I was in a Beyoncé camp in the Hamptons writing for the self-titled album. [There were] a bunch of people in the house — me, Greg Kurstin, Sia — it was a fun group of people. I had four days there, and every morning I'd get up an hour and a half before I had to leave, make a coffee, and start prepping for the day. On the third day, I got up, I'm in the basement of this house at like 7 in the morning, and I'm coming up with ideas. I stumble across that chord progression, the guitar and the melody. It was instant shivers up my spine. 

"Lately I've been losing sleep, dreaming about the things that we could be" is the only line that I had. [My] first thought was, I should play this for Beyoncé, and then I'm listening to it and going, This is not Beyoncé, not even remotely. It'd be a waste. So I tabled it, and I texted the guys in my band, "Hey, I think I have a potentially really big record. I'm going to finish it when I get back to Denver."

I got back the next week, started recording it, did four or five versions of the chorus, bouncing all the versions off my wife, and then eventually landed it. And when I played it for the band, they were like, "This is our favorite song."

It was my second session with Taylor. The first one was [1989's] "I Know Places," and she sent me a voice memo. I was looking for a house in Venice [California], because we were spending so much time in L.A. So that whole memory is attached to me migrating back to Los Angeles. 

But I knew what she was talking about, because I lived in New York, and I remember the feeling — endless possibilities, all the different people and races and sexes and loves. That was her New York chapter. She was so excited to be there. If you never lived there, and especially if you get there and you've got a little money in the pocket, it is so exhilarating.

It was me just kind of witnessing her brilliant, fast-paced, lyrical wizardry. [Co-producer] Max [Martin] and I had a conversation nine months later at the GRAMMYs, when we had literally just won for 1989. He kind of laughed, he pointed to all the other producers on the album, and he's like, "If she had, like, three more hours in the day, she would just figure out what we do and she would do it. And she wouldn't need any of us." 

And I still think that's true. Some people are just forces of nature in and among themselves, and she's one of them. She just blew me away. She's the most talented top liner I've ever been in a room with, bar none. If you're talking lyric and melody, I've never been in a room with anyone faster, more adept, knows more what they want to say, focused, efficient, and just talented.

I had gone through a pretty dry spell mentally, emotionally. I had just burned it at both ends and tapped out, call it end of 2016. So, really, all of 2017 for me was a blur and a wash. I did a bunch of sessions in the first three months of the year, and then I just couldn't get a song out. I kept having, song after song, artists telling me it's the first single, [then] the song was not even on the album. I had never experienced that in my career.

I went six to nine months without finishing a song, which for me is unheard of. Andrew Watt kind of roped me back into working with him. We did "Easier" for 5 Seconds of Summer, and we did some Sam Smith and some Miley Cyrus, and right in that same window, I did this song "Sucker." Two [or] three months later, Wendy Goldstein from Republic [Records] heard the record, I had sent it to her. She'd said, very quietly, "We're relaunching the Jonas Brothers. They want you to be involved in a major way. Do you have anything?" 

She calls me, she goes, "Ryan, do not play this for anybody else. This is their comeback single. It's a No. 1 record. Watch what we're gonna do." And she delivered.

My memory is, being in lockdown in COVID, and just being like, Who knows when this is going to end, working out of my Airstream at my house. I had done a lot of songs for movies over the years, and [for] that particular [song] Randy Spendlove, who runs [music at] Paramount, called me.

I end up Zooming with Tom Cruise [and Top Gun: Maverick director] Jerry Bruckheimer — everybody's in lockdown during post-production. The overarching memory was, Holy cow, I'm doing the scene, I'm doing the song for Top Gun. I can't believe this is happening. But the only way I knew how to approach it, rather than to, like, overreact and s— the bed, was, It's just another day.

I do prescription songs for movies, TV, film all the time. I love a brief. It's so antithetical to most writers. I'm either uncontrollably lazy or the most productive person you've ever met. And the dividing line between the two is, if I'm chasing some directive, some motivation, some endpoint, then I can be wildly productive.

I just thought, I'm going to do the absolute best thing I can do for this scene and serve the film. OneRepublic being the performing artist was not on the menu in my mind. I just told them, "I think you need a cool indie band sounding, like, breakbeat." I used adjectives to describe what I heard when I saw the scene, and Tom got really ramped and excited. 

You could argue [it's the biggest song] since the band started. The thing about it is, it's kind of become one of those every summer [hits]. And when it blew up, that's what Tom said. He said, "Mark my words, dude. You're gonna have a hit with this every summer for, like, the next 20 years or more." 

And that's what happened. The moment Memorial Day happened, "I Ain't Worried" got defrosted and marched itself back into the top 100.

Tate McRae — "Greedy," 'THINK LATER' (2023)

We had "10:35" [with Tiësto] the previous year that had been, like, a No. 1 in the UK and across Europe and Australia. So we were coming off the back of that, and the one thing she was clear about was, "That is not the direction of what I want to do."

If my memory serves me correct, "greedy" was the next to last session we had. Everything we had done up to that point was kind of dark, midtempo, emotional. So "greedy" was the weirdo outlier. I kept pushing her to do a dance record. I was like, "Tate, there's a lot of people that have great voices, and there's a lot of people who can write, but none of those people are professional dancers like you are. Your secret weapon is the thing you're not using. In this game and this career, you've got to use every asset that you have and exploit it."

There was a lot of cajoling. On that day, we did it, and I thought it was badass, and loved it. And she was like, "Ugh, what do we just do? What is this?"

So then it was just, like, months, months and months of me constantly bringing that song back up, and playing it for her, and annoying the s— out of her. And she came around on it. 

She has very specific taste. So much of the music with Tate, it really is her steering. I'll do what I think is like a finished version of a song, and then she will push everyone for weeks, if not months, to extract every ounce of everything out of them, to push the song harder, further, edgier — 19 versions of a song, until finally she goes, "Okay, this is the one." She's a perfectionist.

I love [our latest single] "Hurt," but my favorite song on the album is called "Last Holiday." I probably started the beginning of that lyric, I'm not joking, seven, eight years ago. But I didn't finish it 'til this past year.

The verses are little maxims and words of advice that I've been given throughout the years. It's almost cynical in a way, the song. When I wrote the chorus, I was definitely in kind of a down place. So the opening line is, "So I don't believe in the stars anymore/ They never gave me what I wished for." And it's, obviously, a very not-so-slight reference to "Counting Stars." But it's also hopeful — "We've got some problems, okay, but this isn't our last holiday." 

It's very simple sentiments. Press pause. Take some moments. Find God before it all ends. All these things with this big, soaring chorus. Musically and emotionally and sonically, that song — and "Hurt," for sure — but "Last Holiday" is extremely us-sounding. 

The biggest enemy that we've had over the course of 18 years, I'll be the first to volunteer, is, this ever-evolving, undulating sound. No one's gonna accuse me of making these super complex concept albums, because that's just not how my brain's wired. I grew up listening to the radio. I didn't grow up hanging out in the Bowery in CBGBs listening to Nick Cave. So for us, the downside to that, and for me doing all these songs for all these other people, is the constant push and pull of "What is their sound? What genre is it?" 

I couldn't put a pin in exactly what the sound is, but what I would say is, if you look at the last 18 years, a song like "Last Holiday" really encompasses, sonically, what this band is about. It's very moving, and emotional, and dynamic. It takes me to a place — that's the best way for me to put it. And hopefully the listener finds the same.

In the K-pop industry, the Neo Culture Technology juggernaut stands out as a cosmopolitan universe. The project is characterized by its highly experimental approach, where each of NCT's subgroups contribute a unique twist.

This is especially true of NCT 127. Comprised of Taeyong, Taeil, Jaehyun, Johnny, Yuta, Doyoung, Jungwoo, Mark, and Haechan, NCT 127's identity was forged via innovative arrangements that defy convention.

During their rookie days, this ahead-of-its-time strategy felt polarizing and raised a few eyebrows. However, after some years of ambivalence (and with some lineup changes in between), they exploded in popularity during the early pandemic with their second studio album, NCT #127: Neo Zone. This record gave them their first title as million sellers, significantly increasing their listeners globally — many of whom embraced the group's music as an escape during quarantine.

Read more: Breaking Down The NCT System, From The Rotational NCT U To The Upcoming NCT Tokyo

Today, they are more influential than ever and their sound is more accepted in the ever-expanidng scope of K-pop. Nonetheless, some K-pop listeners tend to pigeonhole the group as "noise," despite having a diverse catalog and some of the best vocalists of their generation.

Nearly coinciding with their eighth anniversary, NCT 127 released their sixth studio album, WALK on July 15. To mark this occasion, GRAMMY.com presents a song list — in chronological order — demonstrating their musical geniality, which extends far beyond the public's usual perception. 

The group's first mini-album, NCT #127, laid the foundations of their audacious sound and paired it with vocal finesse. To wit, the lead single "Fire Truck" arrived as an unapologetic disruptor shaking up the K-pop industry.

But the bookends of the EP are uniquely contrasting. Whereas "Fire Truck" opens with bold posturing, the outlier "Switch" concludes the ride with a more lighthearted and youthful production. In a way, this song could also be considered a prelude to the NCT universe, as it was recorded a year before NCT 127's debut, and it features members of other NCT iterations — like WayV and Dream — when they were still trainees. 

The name of this track is a statement of the group's boundary-pushing ethos. True to form, the song is built over a hammering backbone and lengthy synths that bite. The chorus is the highlight; its dynamic explosion of vocals only intensifies the momentum. And while the Korean version is strong, it could be argued that the Japanese rendition imbues the song with new layers of depth that truly elevate it.

It’s worth mentioning that, during the Limitless era, Doyoung and Johnny were added to the lineup, marking NCT 127’s first release with nine members — a move consistent with the original (now-defunct) concept of the NCT system.

Some songs are crafted for faraway souls and to offer solace to the aching heart. That's why "Sun and Moon," an evocative B-side from NCT 127's third extended play, exists as an unmissable gem.

It's a lyrical tale of longing, where Taeil, Doyoung, Johnny, Taeyong, Jaehyun, and Yuta serenade a distant love, hoping the gap will shrink and a reunion will come. The arrangement is understated but dream-like, and when the pre-chorus arrives, the most beautiful lines are unveiled: "When my moon rises/ Your sun rises as well/ Under the same sky/ In this different time/ Our hearts are connected/ Under the same sky."

Co-created by GRAMMY-nominated producer Mike Daley and multi-instrumentalist Mitchell Owens, "Come Back" exemplifies maximalism, undulating between intensity and elegance.

"One of the standout aspects of this song is the creative use of chops throughout the track," Daley tells GRAMMY.com. "Even though the arrangement follows a pretty standard structure for us, these chops add a unique flavor that sets 'Come Back' apart. We got to be more experimental [for this track] and bring in some unusual elements."

The voices of Taeil and Doyoung prominently take center stage, infusing potency that ensures smooth progressions throughout the production.

"Lips"

Featured on the group's first Japanese studio album, Awaken, "Lips" is an unjustly overlooked cut that blends sensuality with hypnotizing Latin rhythms. The deeper you are immersed in it, the more enchanting it becomes, casting a spell over your mind.

Its minimalist formula is effective, and the lyrics hint at a compelling journey: "Your lips come and take me to the place to go/ The place you would know where you should go." Sometimes, less is more, and the impact can be equally powerful.

"Highway to Heaven" shines as one of the crown jewels in NCT 127's discography, praised not only for its cathartic production but also for marking a turnaround in their artistry. It sees them delving into more subdued and ethereal soundworlds.

A pre-release single from their fourth mini album, We Are Superhuman, the instrumental is woven with buzzy percussion and silken guitar strings. The group's vocal prowess truly exhilarates, crescendoing a declaration of freedom during the chorus: "We'll take the highway to heaven/ Any time, anywhere I feel you/ You and I, highway to heaven/ This place where we're together is heaven." 

The track reaches its pinnacle with an interlude guided by Jungwoo's velvety delivery, eventually setting the stage for Haechan's soaring voice.

"Superhuman," the lead single from We Are Superhuman, is a timeless masterpiece. The avant garde song showcases the group's expansive adaptability, exchanging their usual edge for intricate sophistication.

American singer/songwriter Adrian Mckinnon — a frequent collaborator of SM Entertainment, home of the NCT project — teamed up with South Korean producers TAK and 1Take to bring the song to life, and he recalls being "blown away" when he listened to the instrumental. "All the glitches and stutters immediately gave nostalgia," Mckinnon tells GRAMMY.com, noting the sound choices reminded him of old school video games. "[The song] kind of sits in its own lane, maybe somewhere between glitch funk and glitch hop. Maybe a little Daft Punky too?"

Mckinnon says he sat with the instrumental track for half an hour before recording his vocal ideas. "I wanted to absorb it in its entirety before trying anything."

He also explains that they created the song without a specific group in mind, so he was excited to discover the song was placed with NCT 127. "I think this speaks to the versatile nature of the group because they executed the track very well and were able to make it their own. It's easily one of my favorite songs I've been a part of."

Another piece from Daley and Owens, "Love Me Now" pulses with gentleness and heartwarming nostalgia. It's a song made for those days when everything feels right in place. 

Daley recalled working on "Love Me Now" during a K-pop songwriting camp in Seoul, and says he refined an existing track. "Most of our stuff is tailor-made for artists in Korea, but this track was very much a U.S. pop/dance radio-sounding track," he says. "It doesn't feature a ton of sections, switch-ups, or the musically intricate bridge that a lot of our K-pop songs normally have. It's very minimalistic, bright, and centered, and sometimes that's all you need."

He observes the creation process of "Love Me Now" was more straightforward than "Come Back," as the latter contains the usual elaborateness of K-pop productions. "That simplicity in ['Love Me Now'] lent itself to making a very catchy, memorable record that was easy to digest."

By NCT standards, "NonStop" — from the repackaged album NCT #127 Neo Zone: The Final Round — is a B-side that overflows with the potential of a lead single. It's an amalgam of unburdened rap verses and cohesive vocals that glide effortlessly across a cutting-edge production.

Adrian Mckinnon explains that he and Kenzie chose the track from a selection created by the British production duo LDN Noise due to the magnetic pull of the intro. "The arpeggiated tones and the crazy melody of the lead synth immediately took us to the future," he says. "The chord progression and the rising energy out of the pre-chorus — it all felt like some high-speed race through some futuristic city."

The development of the structure proved quite challenging, but the end result encapsulated the intended concept. "Listening to it in its final form, you would think the sections were obvious, but each of the melody and topline — including others that didn't make the song — all felt quite hooky," McKinnon shares. "But since you only have so much 'song,' you must pick your favorite bits and massage the ideas together. That's how we arrived at what 'NonStop' came to be."

"First Love"

A burgeoning romance transforms into the dulcet melodies that define "First Love," a B-side from NCT 127's second Japanese EP, Loveholic, released in February 2021. Excitement beams throughout the lines of the song, capturing the world of possibilities that come with finding the person you've always dreamed of.

When the group leans towards professing love in all its shapes, they do so with a rawness that percolates through their voices, easily perceptible to all. And here, they opt for a playful and tender side.

"Breakfast"

Off of their third full-length album, Sticker, "Breakfast" is distinguished by its harmonic richness and stunning vocal arrangements.\

The track emerged from a collaboration in which Swedish producer Simon Petrén devised the sonic framework, complemented by GRAMMY-winning songwriter Ninos Hanna and songwriter/producer Andreas Öberg. "As the melody ideas evolved, the song was also developed and built up to match the topline," Öberg tells GRAMMY.com. "The original demo was called 'Breakfast' and tailor-made for [the group]. SM Entertainment decided to release this song with them shortly after we submitted it." 

Öberg describes the composition as "an interesting hybrid," with the original demo molded to be "a modern dance/house record while still using advanced chord progressions not only with influences from jazz and fusion."

He also cites Michael Jackson as an inspiration, drawing from "his unique style of switching between minor and major tonalities." 

"Favorite (Vampire)"

After releasing Sticker, NCT 127 wasted no time and quickly followed up with a repackaged album centered around the hauntingly resonant "Favorite." A brainchild of Kenzie, American producer Rodney "Darkchild" Jerkins, and singer/songwriter Rodnae "Chikk" Bell, this record is the most tempered of all the NCT 127's title tracks.

A whistling sample introduces a thumping trap beat that rapidly unfolds into piercing lines — courtesy of Taeyong and Mark — that slice through the song. But as we hit the road toward the chorus, "Favorite" veers into a more vocally-driven approach, a splendid transition that balances its core. In classic SM style, the bridge is a triumph, with Doyoung, Taeil, and Haechan pouring their hearts out as if they've been shattered into a hundred pieces.

Listening to "Angel Eyes," a cut nestled in the middle of their most recent release, Fact Check, is akin to a healing escape. From the first seconds, pure bliss fills the air and quickly transforms into an open invitation to lose ourselves in the music.

"Paradise, like an angel fly/ With your wings, make me fly through the brilliant world/ My delight in all the days and nights/ Even in darkness, make me dream the greatest dream," they sing in the last chorus, prescribing optimism atop a layering reminiscent of the '80s.

One of WALK's B-sides, "Pricey" boasts a delightful instrumental with thick basslines and a fusion of piano and guitar chords. Although the rapped chorus momentarily threatens to stall the pace, vibrant ad-libs — growing more captivating as the song progresses — quickly pick it back up, perfectly aligning the overall effort with their unique sound.

"Pricey" was originally intended for the American market, which makes it all the more inexplicable that it was tucked away in the NCT 127 vault for so long. Thankfully, it's now receiving the spotlight it deserves – it's simply too remarkable to remain unearthed.

GRAMMY winners Kendrick Lamar and Mustard have long repped their California roots. Earlier this summer, their powerhouse anthem "Not Like Us"  brought West Coast rap back to its roots and shone a global spotlight on the scene. 

Lamar and Mustard are at the forefront of a renaissance in West Coast rap. Their shared roots in Southern California cities — Mustard from Los Angeles and Kendrick from Compton — adds authenticity and resonance to their partnership. Their undeniable chemistry was on display in the video for "Not Like Us," which received a million views less than an hour after its release.

Mustard's signature beats and Lamar's profound lyricism has resurfaced the sound and culture that makes West Coast rap so unique and paved the way for a new generation of artists. All signs suggest that another impactful collaboration may appear on Mustard's upcoming album, Faith of A Mustard Seed.

Learn more: A Guide To Southern California Hip-Hop: Definitive Releases, Artists & Subgenres From L.A. & Beyond

Kendrick Lamar headlined the electrifying Pop Out concert on Juneteenth, which also featured sets from Mustard and DJ Hed. The event saw a handful of L.A. rappers, opening for Lamar in a showcase of  the vibrant talent that defines the region's rap scene.

The West Coast is a vast reservoir of talent, stretching from the Bay Area to Seattle. At the heart of this creative expanse is Los Angeles, which brings fresh perspectives, innovative styles, and renewed energy to hip-hop, ensuring the genre thrives. With the stage set for these newcomers to shine, it's the perfect time to take a closer look at some of the rising talents poised to impact the rap scene. While this list only scratches the surface, it offers a glimpse into the diverse and exciting talent from SoCal, the epicenter of the West.

Arising from Los Angeles, Blxst initially played the background as a producer but soon demonstrated his ability to excel across all facets of music creation. Blxst's breakout moment came with his platinum-certified single "Chosen," which solidified his place in the music industry. His collaboration on Kendrick Lamar's "Die Hard" from Mr. Morale And The Big Steppers further showcased his skill for crafting hooks that elevate tracks, resulting in two GRAMMY nominations.

As he prepares to release his debut album, I'll Always Come Find You on July 19, Blxst stands at a pivotal point in his career. With a great resume already to his name, his forthcoming album promises to showcase his undeniable talent and leave a lasting impact on the West Coast music scene.

Bino Rideaux is a South Central native and frequent collaborator with the GRAMMY-winning rapper Nipsey Hussle. He is the only artist to have a joint project with Hussle, No Pressure, released before the prolific rapper's untimely death. Rideaux has hinted at having a treasure of unreleased music with Hussle, saved for the perfect moment and album.

Rideaux  is known for creating tracks that get the city outside and dancing. He has made three beloved projects with Blxst, titled Sixtape, Sixtape 2, and Sixtape 3 resulting in sold-out shows and a special place in West Coast Rap fans' hearts. Endorsed by industry heavyweights like Young Thug, Rideaux continues to carve his path at his own pace. His journey is nothing short of a marathon, echoing the enduring legacy of his mentor.

Read more: Nipsey Hussle's Entrepreneurial Legacy: How The Rapper Supported His Community & Inspired Rap's Next Generation

Kalan.FrFr, whose name stands for "For Real For Real," is an artist whose music is as genuine as his name suggests. Growing up in Compton and Carson, Kalan.FrFr has always stayed true to his roots, and exudes the unyielding confidence essential to making it in the City of Angels.

His breakthrough mixtape, TwoFr, showcased his ability to shine without major features, delivering verses with catchy hooks and melodic rap. He's shown he's not confined to one sound, delivering vulnerable tracks like "Going Through Things'' and "Never Lose You." His EP Make the West Great Again, Kalan.FrFr both proves his loyalty to his origins and highlights his versatility. Kalan.FrFr's signature punch-in, no-writing-lyrics-down style keeps his fans on their toes, ensuring that whatever comes next is unpredictable but authentic.

Jayson Cash, a rapper hailing from Carson — the same city as TDE artist Ab-Soul — stays true to West Coast rap, from his lyrics to his beat selection. Listening to Jayson Cash's music is like diving into a vivid life narrative. His prowess as a lyricist and storyteller shines through in every verse. He gives his fans an insight into his journey, making it a relatable music experience.

Cash made waves with his debut mixtape, Read The Room, and scored a Mustard beat on the song "Top Down." Two years later, their collaboration continues, with Cash writing on Mustard's upcoming album. Though often seen as an underdog, Cash is not to be underestimated, earning cosigns from West Coast legends like Suga Free and Snoop Dogg. His latest project, Alright Bet, includes a notable feature from Dom Kennedy.

310babii has achieved platinum-selling status at just 18 years old, while successfully graduating high school.  Yet 310babii's career began in seventh grade, when he recording songs on his phone showing early signs of motivation and creativity. His 2023 breakout hit "Soak City (Do It)" quickly gained traction on TikTok — and caught the ears of Travis Scott and NFL player CJ Stroud.

As the song grew in popularity, it led to a remix produced by Mustard, who invited the Inglewood native to join him onstage during his set at The Pop Out. 310babii's innovative spirit shines through in his distinctive visuals, exemplified by the captivating video for his song "Back It Up." His recent debut album, Nights and Weekends, released in February, underscores his evolving talent and promise within the music industry.

Elliott Smith released five studio albums within his lifetime, and each is a worthy gateway. Bristling, sometimes harrowing folk? 1995's Elliott Smith. Sgt. Pepper's-scaled splendor? 2000's Figure 8, with 1998's XO as his Revolver. Want to split the difference? 1997's Either/Or.

Then, there's his raw, undiluted 1994 debut — released on Cavity Search, before he was even on Kill Rock Stars. That's Roman Candle, which turns 30 on July 14.

Like everything pre-XO, "studio album" is pretty much a misnomer; Roman Candle was recorded in the basement of the Victorian-style Portland house he shared with JJ Gonson, the manager of his then-band Heatmiser. Which — as Gonson admitted in the 2004 book Elliott Smith and the Big Nothing — "was not a pretty place."

"Lots of people had moved through that house, and the basement was piled high with abandoned stuff," he continued. "So he sort of carved out a little niche, set up a stool and a mic stand, and meticulously recorded the whole thing, going back and punching in tiny changes, sometimes a single word or chord."

While the homemade result is, arguably, Smith's least realized work, it has plenty of charm and intrigue on its own merits, especially in highlights like the shadowy title track and sweet-and-sour yet gorgeous "Condor Ave," which belongs on any list of his very best songs.

Even better, Roman Candle lays the blueprint for everything he'd accomplish in its wake — and stands tall as a watershed for lo-fi folk. Here are three reasons why.

The Sonics

Eventually, this voracious absorber of the rock canon would begin tinkering with tack pianos and mellotrons. But as early as Roman Candle, his core sound was cemented: panned, close-miked, harmonically complex acoustic guitars; double-tracked vocals; a hushed and spectral delivery.

Somewhat uncannily, cruddy equipment seemed to flatter Smith's aesthetic the best. "The wonderful breathy sound on Roman Candle is largely due to the quality of the mic, or lack of it," Gonson said in the book, characterizing his mic setup as "a little Radio Shack thing — the kind you used to get bundled with a tape recorder."

Part of his hushed approach may have been logistical. "He also sang quietly, perhaps so as not to be heard by all the people always coming and going upstairs, so you can hear every breath and string squeak." (A 2010 remaster by Larry Crane sanded down those harsh edges, in the hope that "the music would become more inviting and the sound would serve the songs better.)

The late Smith spawned a thousand imitators, all who learned that murmuring balladry into a tape recorder isn't a shortcut to magic — the easy way or hard way. (Celebrated artists like Phoebe Bridgers and Sufjan Stevens successfully assimilated his influence into their creative bank.)

But partly due to the blueprint of Roman Candle — a link in a chain with '80s lo-fi and the rest — this aesthetic proved desirable.

The Specificity

Many rookie songwriters throw out concrete details (highway numbers and pharmaceuticals, anyone?) as a shortcut to profundity. Smith's details always served the song, and the story.

"She took the Oldsmobile out past Condor Avenue," begins that titular song. "And she locked the car and slipped past into rhythmic quietude." This evocation of a totally unremarkable Portland street places the drama that ensues firmly in time and space.

"Drive All Over Town" conjures atmosphere from the get-go, too: "Two-dollar color pictures from a photo booth/ Dirty, stepped-on, lying out on the floor of their room." You can almost smell that image.

The Vulnerability

When Kill Rock Stars' Slim Moon first popped "Roman Candle" into a tour van's dashboard, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "It completely blew my mind," he later said. "I have never heard music as heartwrenchingly, gut-checkingly honest, intimate, and wise — before or since."

That was another one of Smith's superpowers: even as he tiptoed to the precipice of self-pity here and there, he never, ever BSed the listener.

"I want to hurt him/ I want to give him pain," he seethes in the chorus of "Roman Candle, about his allegedly abusive stepfather. "I'm a roman candle/ My head is full of flames." A searing sensation, as if you and Smith share a nervous system.

He'd pull off that magic trick again and again throughout his brilliant, troubled career — and it all started on Roman Candle.

He's Gonna Make It All OK: An Oral History Of Elliott Smith's Darkly Beautiful Self-Titled Album