Prolific singer-songwriter Tori Amos is never one to mince words, and her new book Resistance: A Songwriter's Story of Hope, Change, and Courage offers a compelling manifesto for all artists who need to speak their truth and might fear push back in politically tumultuous times. Amos relates stories from throughout her career, intermingling personal anecdotes and remembrances with wider societal observations from the time she was an adolescent girl playing gay bars in Washington, D.C. to her numerous world tours since then. She also acknowledges mistakes that she has made while encouraging artists to continue evolving and to learn more about themselves and others.

Interspersed throughout Resistance are lyrics from key songs that are referenced, allowing us to understand how real-life events inspired words that can initially appear cryptic. As Amos notes, the Muses are a big influence on her work, and that is not a relationship that is always understood by some people. Regardless, her words and music have had a profound impact on her devout followers.

When the Recording Academy speaks with Amos, she is quarantined with her immediate family in the English countryside, working on new music and coping with family separations that span the length of an ocean. Read our interview with Amos below, and listen to an exclusive clip from the Resistance audiobook where Amos talks about her hit '90s single "Cornflake Girl."

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I'm operating on three hours of sleep because my sleep schedule is off, even though I'm a vampire. I'm just not sure what day it is anymore. But hopefully it'll lead to some good creative writing?

These are odd times for vampires. I'm definitely on the owl side. I like a good vampire. But I'm a night person, too. However, we have [my daughter] Tash and her boyfriend Oliver here. They're still doing university courses for the next couple of weeks and doing testing, so [my husband] Mark and I can't be as rock 'n roll as we would be. We're making a new record in Cornwall at the studio, so we need to be thankful because we have access to what we do which is music. If I had ended up in Florida, I wouldn't have access to the recording studio. I'd have access to a piano, but I couldn't make a record. It's a very different scenario being here. He's having the last laugh, that difficult Brit husband of mine. He really shouldn't be allowed to talk to most people because his sense of humor is really off kilter. But the thing is everybody has been laughing at him since '97 going, "Why would you all live in the middle of nowhere with no streetlights when you all could have a studio in London?" And he just smiles at me daily. Those musicians from L.A. and New York wonder—why would you live in the middle of farm country where you're surrounded by more animals than people?

Now they know! I saw you speak at the CMJ Music Marathon in 2002 when Scarlet's Walk came out. You were talking to young people there about music, but you also told them, without mentioning any names, that there were certain people in power who did not have their best interests at heart. And you advised them that they should be able to use their voice to speak up and say what they wanted. In this book the names are very clearly brought out and the gloves are off now, as opposed to back then when you were being more diplomatic. What changed?

I just decided that it's time to just lay it out there. Jane Mayer and her book Dark Money was a huge push. It became necessary reading for people that would ask me what book they should be reading at the time. It just gives you the inception of how long the plans for what became the Tea Party and Citizens United and what's really driving some of these protests right now. The big money behind them. Of course, we understand people are in grief. People are hurting, losing, grieving, having deep anxiety about our future because our world is turned on its head. We toured two weeks after 9/11. We had a baby on tour. It was a very different world compare to what we're looking at, especially for the whole music world. If live playing is in your bones and playing to a live audience, it's a whole different world that we haven't had to encounter before.

I'm surprised at how, for many, the moral outrage over Bill Clinton's tenure is far greater than Trump's, which boggles my mind.

It boggles my mind, and we talk about that in the book. I've been saying this lately, so I should really give you a better soundbite. But what the right hand is doing and what the left hand is doing... Right now, I have no idea what the left hand of the government is doing. I'm not talking about sides of the aisle. I'm talking about the narrative around the pandemic that comes out and is politicized. I have no idea what they're doing with the policies and who's really getting the money. In situations like this, the concern is that there are people who will use an unprecedented crisis to seize more power. That's how authoritarians work, and we've got a gaggle of them up in Washington. They're not all men either!

People from other cultures who have lived under such regimes and are living here now can spot that. I know people who have. People who don't know about or haven't experienced that don't understand.

That's interesting. When we were touring that fall [after 9/11] and he [Bush] announced invading Afghanistan, I was playing two nights at the Daughters of The American Revolution Constitution Hall [in D.C.]. It was just intriguing how people were warning me that something else was coming. It's proven to be true that they were talking about Iraq the day of, when you read books about that time. It's hard to sometimes frame the times that we're in, but we have to document them as artists. I think that is our responsibility. That's what Scarlet's Walk was trying to do, anyway. I should have known when "Imagine" had been banned [from radio airplay] what was coming. That's pretty much all you need to know as a songwriter. When a song like that is banned, then you begin to understand what [certain] people are thinking—we do not want a peaceful world, the last thing we want is a peaceful global world. I should have understood the depravity of that move then. As a Scorpio rising, I should have f**king gotten that.

You've talked about the narrative with billionaires deciding to be more transparent about who they are. I've noted that they have seduced people into thinking that if you give them the money and the power, maybe they'll get a taste of it, which never happens.

Even Bush Sr. said that was "Voodoo economics," the Reagan economic policy. And at least for a few minutes there, he called it like it was. You can just watch how the oligarchs work. The Russians had warned me when I was there in 2014 that anybody can be groomed. I thought, "No," and they said, "Really, Amos, you've got to think this through." Neil deGrasse Tyson is doing a masterclass right now, and I might just take it. He's talking about how you have to learn how to question things. We think sometimes that we can't be groomed. That's the greatest mistake the Russian people were warning me when I was there, and Russia had just invaded Ukraine. Ukrainians were telling me the same—"You guys in the States, you just really don't get how good at propaganda Russia is."

One of the ideas you explore in Revolution refers to the time before the Iraq war and the premise of how real leadership could have been disciplined in a time of crisis and not acted on impulsively. Yet now in the world of social media, everyone speaks and acts impulsively, which is a big problem. The online rhetoric between everybody has become verbally violent.

It's funny, I stay away from that. The thing about writing the book is it had to be really methodical, and you go through several drafts to realize the story that wants to be told. Songwriting has a similar thing. I choose not to expose myself to that verbal violence online. I don't know what it would do to my sanity.

Tori Amos performs in 1998
Photo by Tim Mosenfelder/Getty Images

You write about being an emotional conduit not just for your songs but for your fans. Your set lists are often dictated by the vibe of where you are and the people you've talked to that day. You've only told some of the stories that fans have relayed to you, like the judge that came backstage and told you about being in an abusive relationship. Obviously, you couldn't put all of the stories into the book. Isn't that emotionally taxing on you?

When I'm in that space, I'm not wife and mother and friend. I'm a container for the songs and the Muses, and I'm really connected and really grounded in that energy. It's about being a vessel. If you can imagine, I'm sending this information up to the Muses, and they're sending information down. This is how my relationship has been with them since I was two and a half. I stopped talking about it in the '90s because critics would take swipes and put it into L.A. New Age speak. Okay, if you want to belittle this into something, then the Muses just say, "You're not talking about us to them anymore because we're not going to visit them." So, next. This is about a power dynamic, is what they would say to me, so we're not going to then reveal how we work with you. They work with many people clearly, and people have their own vision and interpretation of how their Muses appear to them.

Back in 1997, I did an interview with Bjork. I remember at the time that people thought she was weird—like wearing the dead swan outfit to the Oscars—and they didn't understand what she was talking about. I remember speaking with her, and when you had the full conversation with her, it made complete sense. If you only used a pull quote it sounded weird, but if you actually sat there and engaged in that conversation, it made sense. I think the same concept could be applied to you. If somebody takes a pull quote from you on something, it's not going to have the same effect as having the actual conversation with you.

Context is everything for some of us. I have a real affinity for her and her work. But yes, if you're just pulling out a page from a very rich narrative like hers, then you can slander a lot of us if we're being truthful and open about our process. Because if you want to skew it, you can. I talk about that in one of the chapters, [about] prepping for promo week. The promo dance and how there will be some who want to take you down. It's not as if I didn't know, but sometimes I think we were possibly naive and had a little more faith in the process. At my age now, having survived menopause, I can survive any of you f**kers.

You were discussing the Muses, and I have a friend who loves your music, but she goes, "You know, half the time, I don't really know what she's talking about, but I love her music." But I think the Impressionistic dance of your music and words works for her. And I'm curious, have you ever written songs where years later you realized what they were really about?

Yeah, actually. There are moments. Sometimes people tell me their impression of a song and I go, "I never thought of that." "Did you know there was a Japanese myth about that?" And I'm like, "Oh, I didn't know that." I'm a scribe when some of this stuff is coming. So if I'm having a hard time—if I tilt my head into that world of dancing elephants and bicycling through the stars with Beanie with champagne—if I'm having a difficult time translating, then sometimes I blame myself because clearly I'm not hearing what they're doing. They usually make some kind of sense. Sometimes it's referring to myth, though. I'm not saying that everybody doesn't know their myths really well. But I have found that sometimes the Muses aren't that literal like they are in “Me And A Gun,” which is very clear what is occurring there. They work in different ways, and I work with them in different ways. Sometimes I'll just look and see what that metaphor could mean. I understand it's a paradox. Sometimes they're putting things together to try and generate some kind of feeling, and of course it is there with the music. That's how songs work.

I like the tone of the book. It's interesting when you talk about the Death club and how you don't really understand how certain people feel until you've lost someone close yourself. It's something that I've talked about with people in terms of grief and mourning, whether for a person or a situation. Sometimes there's no way to say the right thing. I believe if you're sad or angry, be sad or angry. Just deal with that and own it. I'm not going to tell you it's going to be okay because right now it sucks. I think it's just better to own that and feel that then have people offer you these cliché platitudes.

And I feel terrible that I've done that to people. I apologized in the book because people will come to the shows that are going through things... Somebody gave me a letter. She had lost their mother, and I sent her a message back. I had no idea what she was going through. I had empathy, but I didn't understand. So I couldn't respond in a useful way. I didn't get that until [my mother] Mary left, even though Mary had had a terrible stroke and it was awful. She was really suffering. But how people respond to grief—that's something we're dealing with collectively right now. We don't have the world we had at New Year's Eve, especially if you were in the West. I can't speak to what people were going through in China. I don't know. But I remember New Year's Eve very well. My niece Kelsey is at the [Florida] beach house right now. She, Tash, Mark and I were there when granddad had come for his birthday dinner. He turned 91. It is a different world where nobody can go see granddad now. People are calling in, but he knows he can't see people. The whole world has changed, and to process it is not a small thing. I don't even have the words for it. We haven't experienced something like this in our lifetimes. Maybe if you're over 100, and you felt the repercussions of the influenza pandemic then.

Or the Great Depression.

Yeah, exactly.

You've produced so much music throughout your career, including many B-sides. Do you ever worry at certain points that the well will run dry? Is there a way that you know how to replenish the well?

Writing for me can be cyclical, and sometimes I have to really be motivated to choose the subject matter. Writing to fulfill a deadline for an album because you have a tour booked, which people have done for years, is a very different intention than writing because you have to. There's no other way I can express it. I think some writers find that when a crisis happens, you have to get out of despondency and get out of your own personal reaction to a crisis. Yes, you can infuse your work with that. But for me anyway, I think that this is an opportunity for a lot of writers, especially if you aren't really a fluff writer.... Some people are really drawn to entertaining people, and we need entertainment. We'll need levity. There's no question about that. But I also think that there there's a huge moment here, where we're writing about something that hasn't happened in our lifetime. The emotions, the fallout from this, the scars, mentally, emotionally, people's livelihoods, people's lives, always first and foremost—there are so many aspects to it. The whole globe is affected.

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Editor’s note: This story was updated on Monday, Jan. 8, to include mention of Luke Combs and his 2024 GRAMMY nomination.

Renowned for her stripped-back folky sound, social conscience and storytelling abilities, Tracy Chapman has never really fitted into the pop landscape. The singer/songwriter emerged in the late 1980s, a period when big-voiced power balladeers and exuberant teen princesses were all the rage. And throughout the following two decades, the Cleveland native continued to assemble an impressive body of work that remained utterly impervious to fleeting chart trends. 

Chapman's determination to carve out her own distinct path has undeniably reaped its rewards. Her self-titled debut album topped the Billboard 200 in 1988, sold 20 million copies and received six GRAMMY nominations; she won three (Best Contemporary Folk Album, Best Female Pop Vocal Performance and the coveted Best New Artist). A mid-'90s career resurgence, meanwhile, helped to boost her awards tally, with biggest hit "Give Me A Reason" picking up Best Rock Song. 

And whether standing in for Stevie Wonder at Nelson Mandela's 70th Birthday Tribute Concert or performing "Talkin’ Bout a Revolution" on the eve of the 2020 presidential election, Chapman has used her earthy voice to soundtrack several key historical moments.   And the very traditional kind of artist even unwittingly became a viral sensation thanks to a powerful rendition of Ben E. King classic "Stand By Me" in aid of David Letterman's late-night retirement.  

Although Chapman hasn't released a studio album since 2008's Our Bright Future, her music has remained an ever-present. From Sam Smith and Justin Bieber, to Passenger and Luke Combs, it's probably quicker to list which contemporary acts haven't covered her defining single "Fast Car" in recent years; dance producer Jonas Blue even took it back into the Hot 100 In 2015. Kelly Clarkson, Black Pumas and Jamila Woods have all paid tribute by tackling different songs from Chapman's remarkably consistent oeuvre, too.

Of course, Chapman's modern-day cachet extends beyond the odd song. Here's a look at five artists who have credited the star as a formative influence on their entire careers.

Luke Combs

By now, an ocean of ink has been spilled about Luke Combs making Tracy Chapman’s "Fast Car" a hit once more — from its racial, sexual, class, gender, and genre dynamics, to whether whitewashing was at play. But with all due respect to the talking heads, the truth is arguably much simpler: when it comes to great singer/songwriters, game recognizes game.

"There was this one song that really stuck out to me. It was called 'Fast Car,'" Combs said onstage last year. “That song meant a lot to me since then — for my whole life. I always think about my dad when it comes on and us spending time together.” It’s awfully telling, too, that Combs didn’t flip the gender of the song — a token of respect. He, too, is a "checkout girl."

Decades after its creation, Combs' take on "Fast Car" made a U-turn to the top of the Billboard country charts; at the 2024 GRAMMYs, his version is nominated for Best Country Solo Performance.

"It has stayed with me since I have played it in my live show now for six-plus years and everyone — I mean everyone — across all these stadiums relates to this song and sings along," Combs later told Billboard. That’s the gift of a supernatural songwriter." Yes, “Fast Car" is deeply, incontrovertibly human, and earthbound. But Combs reminded us that it’s charged with magic, too. — Morgan Enos

Khalid 

Just like Chapman, Khalid racked up a glut of GRAMMY nominations with his debut album, American Teen. And while promoting the record on BBC Radio One's Live Lounge in 2018, the chart-topper doffed his cap to one of its major influences with an acoustic reworking of "Fast Car." An obvious choice, perhaps, but speaking to Forbes later that same year, Khalid insisted that he was far from just a fair-weather fan. 

"For me, Tracy Chapman was just someone who inspires me in terms of songwriting," the "Talk" hitmaker revealed. "When I think about songwriting just how she can make you feel like you're in that moment." Chapman was also the first name that came to mind when Khalid was asked about his biggest musical inspiration in our One Take series.  

Lisa Marie Presley 

The late Lisa Marie Presley took her time following in her father's footsteps, releasing her debut album, To Whom It May Concern, at the relatively late age of 35. But it was the music of singer/songwriters such as Linda Ronstadt, Shelby Lynne and, in particular, Tracy Chapman (rather than the rock and roll of Elvis) that informed her sound.  

In a 2012 chat to promote third LP Storm and Grace, Presley told Rolling Stone India, "I've never met Tracy, but she's always been a huge influence on me; I don't even know if she knows that. From her first album until everything, she's been such an influence on me as a singer-songwriter." 

Presley also referenced Chapman in an interview with the Huffington Post about her musical inspirations, adding, "I love women who sing, and they mean what they're saying, and they reach in and grab you. It moves you. You can feel the singer, and it's for real." And while appearing on BBC Radio 2’s Tracks of My Years in 2013, the star selected "Smoke and Ashes" from Chapman's 1995 LP New Beginning as one of her all-time favorites.  

Valerie June 

"The missing link between Memphis Minnie and Tracy Chapman" is how singer/songwriter Valerie June was once described. No doubt that Chapman, whose sound combines folk-pop with everything from soul and bluegrass to traditional Appalachian music, would have been on board with such comparisons.   

June became a die-hard Chapman fan while growing up in Jackson, Tennessee, as she explained to the Washington Post in 2014: "I wanted to perform from probably the age of four or five, but I never believed I could. I saw Tracy Chapman and Whitney Houston and wanted to be like them. But I thought, 'Yeah, no way. They didn't come from a little old place like this.'" 

Of course, June did manage to carve a niche for herself in the wider world. She even picked up a Best American Roots Song nod at the 2022 GRAMMYs for "Call Me A Fool," a collaboration with Stax legend Carla Thomas. And one of her proudest career moments was following in Chapman's footsteps by appearing on "Austin City Limits."  

Brandi Carlile 

Brandi Carlile has achieved several GRAMMY milestones throughout her glittering career. The Americana favorite was the most-nominated artist at the 2019 ceremony in which she took home three gongs. Then in 2022, she became the first-ever female songwriter to pick up two Song Of The Year nods simultaneously. And the music of Tracy Chapman helped set Carlile on her 24-time nominated path. 

Carlile has frequently acknowledged the influence that the "Fast Car" hitmaker has had on her career. While hosting "Somewhere Over the Radio," a SiriusXM show designed to celebrate "queer excellence," the star played one of her most cherished Chapman songs. And during her 2023 A Special Solo Performance tour, she brought out wife Catherine to perform a duet of New Beginning cut "The Promise." 

Carlile is such a fan that while responding to a fan on Twitter in the pandemic-hit 2020, she argued that one of the few ways the year could redeem itself was if Chapman dropped a new album.  

Tori Amos 

Eight-time GRAMMY nominee Tori Amos and Tracy Chapman began their careers in tandem: David Kershenbaum executive produced the eponymous first albums from both the former's short-lived synth-pop outfit Y Kant Tori Read and the latter singer-songwriter around the same time. And the flame-haired pianist was one of the first to recognize that her counterpart was something special. 

In a Pitchfork interview about her musical tastes, Amos revealed that Tracy Chapman essentially changed her entire outlook. "It woke me up and took me back to my 5-year-old self, who was creating from a pure place of intention of music being magic, as a place where we could walk into and feel many different things." 

Amos subsequently ditched the crop top, leather pants and copious amounts of hairspray and, like Chapman, followed her artistic instincts. When asked by Glamour magazine in 2012 which female artists its younger readers should explore, the "Cornflake Girl" hitmaker didn't hesitate in mentioning her fellow 1988 debutant.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Say She She

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

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

Moniquea

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

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

Shiro Schwarz

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

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

L'Impératrice

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

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

Franc Moody

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I did, yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think it was his car.

Did he get over it later on?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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