interview
Interviews with top Beat music advocates celebrities, musicians, artists, and icons about their current and past music projects.
My Exclusive Interview With Trin Alex
For Trin Alex, songwriting isn't just a hobby. It's also a way for her to process her emotions, celebrate nature and let others know that they're not alone, even when they're at their lowest. When you listen to her music, you might feel some comfort, too--and while you're at it, you'll appreciate her rich vocals and heavy production that draw you into a world of Colorado landscapes and faded childhood memories. This is the time to jump in early, because Trin Alex just might be the next big star in the indie world.
By Kaitlin Shanksabout 5 hours ago in Beat
My Exclusive Interview With Amaiyah
99.9% of Spotify listeners haven't heard one of the best albums of 2026. Fortunately, we're about to change that. Amaiyah's The War of Venus is a haunting soundscape with ghostly vocals, apocalyptic imagery and a dark, simmering vibe that makes you feel like you're crawling through a war zone--and if you ask me, ten Spotify listeners just aren't enough. This record is equal parts strange and mysterious, and this interview dives into the surreal landscape that turns Amaiyah's music into a trip to another planet.
By Kaitlin Shanksa day ago in Beat
My Exclusive Interview With Kirstie Gregory
Some songwriters can do it all, and Kirstie Gregory's not the type to limit herself to one genre. From folksy tracks to soft, ethereal vocals, her discography covers a wide range of subjects, genres and moods, making her a versatile artist who can tackle any assignment you give her. Essentially, there's something for everybody--and once you've learned about her process, check out her full-length album, This Is The End, to hear the full spectrum of her talents.
By Kaitlin Shanks2 days ago in Beat
My Exclusive Interview With Sirena
When you listen to sirena's music, you're diving into a shadowy world of late-night performances, dark city streets and angelic harmonies that practically lift you off the ground. In fact, her music and aesthetic are so intertwined that it seems like a mistake to enjoy one without the other. This interview dives into the thought process behind her hazy blue snapshots and deep, passionate records--and once you return to the surface, you'll feel like part of your subconscious is irrevocably changed.
By Kaitlin Shanks3 days ago in Beat
My Exclusive Interview With Camilla Manor
Forests, blue skies and summer breezes are a few of the things that define Camilla Manor's aesthetic, and she skillfully incorporates her love for nature to create relaxing bedroom pop--which, occasionally, has a dark undercurrent beneath the cozy, lo-fi production. She's also found success as an online fitness instructor, with over 30,000 subscribers waiting to see what she'll post next. Her first album, Loop-de-Loop , takes inspiration from a variety of places--her childhood, her relationship, her trips to Big Sur--to create a cohesive work that practically spans an entire lifetime.
By Kaitlin Shanks4 days ago in Beat
My Exclusive Interview With Siichaq
Siichaq (pronounced "sea-check") is an indie artist, but she's not one that you can easily pin down. She blends a variety of sounds, themes and genres into her musical soundscapes--and just when you think you've got it figured out, she surprises you again. Her latest album, The Righteous Sword , is so complex that this interview doesn't quite cover everything. Fortunately, you don't have to imagine what it sounds like: once you've learned about the songwriting process, you can listen for yourself and enjoy the transformative journey.
By Kaitlin Shanks6 days ago in Beat
Notes from the Mind Palace
Karaoke isn’t just singing for me — it’s a personality test, a confession booth, a therapy session, and a threat all rolled into one. My lineup is chaotic on purpose. It’s designed to confuse people, amuse people, scare people, and remind myself that I’m still alive. I also do it alone. So there is that.
By Syl De'Vil8 days ago in Beat
Notes from the Mind Palace.
Music doesn’t just “inspire” me. It rewires me. It grabs my skull like it’s trying to tune a radio, and suddenly every part of me snaps into alignment. My thoughts stop tripping over each other. My nerves stop buzzing. The world gets quieter, even when the volume is stupidly loud. I don’t listen to music — I use it. The louder the music gets, the quieter those internal voices become — the ones that try to tell me I’m nothing, the ones that show up when I’m tired or hurting or stretched too thin. Volume becomes a shield. Bass becomes a boundary. A song becomes the thing that steps between me and the parts of my mind that don’t always play fair. It even helps with the autoimmune pain. Not in some magical “healing frequency” way — just in the way drowning in sound gives me something stronger to focus on than the ache. When the music is loud enough, my body stops screaming for a minute. I get a little space. A little breath. A little control. It’s the switch that flips me from “overstimulated parent with seven kids doing parkour through my sanity” to “feral writer pacing the room like a crow deciding which shiny object to steal.” If the song hits right, my whole brain goes cinematic. I stop seeing words and start seeing scenes: fog rolling in, headlights cutting through it, someone yelling in the distance, maybe something crawling out of the dark that shouldn’t exist. Music is the fuse that lights all of that. People think playlists are just background noise. Mine are battle plans . Each song is a mood, a memory, a weapon. Some tracks drag me back to Maine. Some drag me into the fog. Some drag me into the parts of my head I don’t talk about unless I’m writing. And some songs hit so hard I feel like I’m remembering a life I didn’t actually live. Music is the only thing that can match the chaos in my head without getting drowned out. It’s the one thing that keeps me steady. It’s the one thing that makes the stories come out clean instead of tangled. Music doesn’t just affect me. It possesses me. And honestly, I let it — because it’s one of the few things that makes the noise inside me survivable. Music doesn’t just affect me — it kidnaps me. It drags me by the hair into whatever universe it feels like throwing me into. And the louder it is, the quieter everything else gets. The voices that tell me I’m nothing? They get smothered under layers of distortion and screaming. They can’t compete with a sonic avalanche. I listen too loud everywhere. Car? Loud enough to rattle the bolts out of the doors. Shower? Loud enough the shampoo vibrates. Headphones? Weak. Earbuds? Pathetic. Party speaker? Coward. Nothing gets loud enough. So I keep turning it up anyway. Because when Yeah Yeah Yeahs — “Y Control” hits, something in my chest snaps awake. It’s like someone kicked the generator in my soul and yelled RUN . When Tegan and Sara — “Dark Come Soon” comes on, the world finally dims enough for me to breathe. Tiger Army — “Valley of Dreams” drowns the autoimmune pain under rhythm and pulse. Choking Victim — “In My Grave” lights a match in my ribcage and tells the darkness to fight back. Rancid — “St. Mary” is every too‑fast drive I’ve ever taken. Bad Brains — “F.V.K.” is adrenaline in audio form. Talking Heads — “Psycho Killer” is the part of my brain that laughs at the chaos, and shakes her butt a little at the sound. Social Distortion — “Far Behind” is grit and memory. something I would rather keep to myself. Bad Religion — “Generator” is the spark that keeps me writing. reminds me that there's more than what you see. Dramarama — “Anything, Anything” is the scream I never let out and the song I sing every time I feel like I could fall in love. then remind myself that love... its not for me. Then there’s The Church — “Reptile” , crawling under my skin like electricity. And Misfits — “Devils Whorehouse” , kicking open the door to the feral part of my brain. But you want chaos? Here’s chaos: Otep — “Special Pets” makes my blood feel like it’s boiling. It’s the one that shuts the internal voices up because they know they can’t compete with that kind of rage. Tool — “The Pot” hits like someone dropped a brick through my skull and rearranged the furniture inside. Mudvayne — “Dig” isn’t a song — it’s a detonation. It’s the moment the world goes white‑hot and I stop feeling anything except the beat. Volbeat — “Still Counting” is the soundtrack of every time I’ve said “I’m fine” while absolutely not being fine. Marilyn Manson — “Kill 4 Me” slinks through my nerves like a threat wrapped in velvet. Chevelle — “Take Out the Gunman” is the pulse that keeps me upright when everything hurts. Incubus — “Nice to Know You” is the moment I slam the door on the past and don’t look back. A Perfect Circle — “Magdalena” turns my brain into a cathedral full of ghosts. Straight Line Stitch — “Conversion” is the part of me that refuses to die, even when everything else is screaming. Wage War — “High Horse” is the moment I stop apologizing for being loud, chaotic, messy, and alive. "Teeth" the song that reminds me exactly where I stand with those in my life. These songs aren’t just tracks — they’re weapons . They’re shields. They’re pressure valves. They’re the only things loud enough to drown out the parts of me that try to drag me under. Music is the only thing that matches the chaos in my head without getting swallowed by it. It’s the one thing that keeps me upright. It’s the one thing that makes the stories come out clean instead of tangled.
By Syl De'Vil8 days ago in Beat
My Exclusive Interview With Chloe Drallos. Top Story - September 2026.
With Western-inspired aesthetics and dark, unsettling videos, Chloe Drallos doesn't just release albums: she builds a surreal world with mysterious figures, Americana imagery and echoing vocals that make you imagine a cowgirl riding alone at sunset. Her latest record, The Cave , is a haunting addition to her discography. In this interview, I learned more about The Cave , her conglomerate (it's not what you think!) and how she used her influences to shape the Acid Western genre.
By Kaitlin Shanks16 days ago in Beat
Keb’ Mo’: The Breakdown and the Long Way Home
By Brian D’Ambrosio Keb’ Mo’ has been making music for more than half a century, but he still approaches a song like there is something left to figure out. Born and raised in Compton, California, he came up listening to Nat King Cole, church singers and the blues guitarists who traced the music backward toward Mississippi. At 21, he landed a professional gig with Papa John Creach. Two decades of work as a guitarist, songwriter and arranger followed before his 1994 self-titled album introduced Keb’ Mo’ to a much wider audience. Five Grammys, an Americana Music Association Lifetime Achievement Award and collaborations with artists including Taj Mahal, Bonnie Raitt and Willie Nelson came later.
By Brian D'Ambrosio 16 days ago in Beat
