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Some artists need an entire relationship to write one good love song. Zech Lore only needed a moment. The alternative-pop songwriter's latest EP, ‘The A.H Demos,’ is a deeply emotional and creatively focused body of work sparked by an unexpected interaction, a brief but impactful meeting with Olympic track star Anna Hall. For most people, it would’ve ended there. But for Zech, that passing exchange planted a seed that grew into his most meaningful music to date. The first song on the project is directly inspired by that initial moment. But instead of staying in surface-level infatuation, Zech took it further. He began following Anna’s journey, watching her compete in Olympic trials, tuning into her interviews, and observing the strength and character she carried both on and off the field. From there, he began crafting songs not just about her, but about the deeper ideas she represented: resilience, grace, curiosity, and quiet intensity. The result is a stunning EP that blends alternative and bedroom pop, full of atmospheric instrumentals, warm synths, and Zech’s signature emotionally raw vocals. There’s a cinematic quality to his storytelling; the kind of songwriting that pulls you into a moment and holds you there. It's romantic, but it’s also introspective, with lyrics that explore connection, longing, and personal growth in equal measure. Zech describes songwriting as a therapeutic outlet, and that honesty cuts through on every track. He doesn't hide behind metaphors. Instead, he leans into vulnerability, allowing real moments and genuine admiration to shape the tone of the project. And while the origin story is unique, the emotions at its core are universal. “Don’t be afraid to try and go for new experiences, You’ll never know what you’ll learn or what might come out of them.” The EP captures what happens when you let inspiration lead, even if it comes from the most unexpected places. It’s a celebration of curiosity, creativity, and emotional connection, and a reminder that the best art often comes from moments we didn’t see coming. That brief moment with Anna Hall clearly made an impact. Can you describe what about that interaction left such a strong impression on you? I think it was just the general experience of meeting someone not only you’re a fan of, but you’ve also seen in interviews, TV, social media, etc., and through those mediums you develop this kind of weird one-way relationship of “knowing” this person to a certain extent. Even though you know they are a real person, because you’ve only seen them through the screen, it’s somewhat of a combination of shock and excitement to see and meet them in person, and in a strange way, you validate to yourself “wow, this person actually exists”. So I think that’s why this interaction had the impact that it did. As someone inspired by a public figure, how did you avoid falling into the trap of idealization and instead write something grounded and emotionally real? I think it just came down to the fact that this project started from a place of real and true emotions, so I think naturally the songs came out as a reflection of that. All these songs were inspired by Anna to a certain extent, but it was me using those small elements to make something broader that could be relatable to anyone listening. For example, the song “His Timing” is based on a phrase that Anna has used and shared. I just took that and wrote about the personal doubts, anger, and frustrations I’ve experienced (and I think everyone has) of not having your goals, dreams, expectations, etc. happen the way or on the timeline you envisioned, but still holding on to the faith and hope that it’ll all work out the way it’s supposed, when it’s supposed to. The EP has a really dreamy, atmospheric feel. What did your production process look like in bringing that sound to life? I can’t take credit for the production of the instrumentals for each song. That goes to each of the producers who made them. What I will say is that after making the first song, I knew what sound and feel I wanted to have for the entire project, so I honed in on that when selecting beats. And trust me when I say I went through a lot of beats. After that, it was just me singing as best as possible to the tone and sound I heard in my head, and my engineer, Tom, elevating my vocals to match the overall dreamy feel of each song. This project feels like a love letter to inspiration itself. What did you learn about yourself while making it? I learned I’m capable of creating something that exceeds any limits either I or others may put on me. For much of my artistic career, I was a rapper because I didn’t believe I could make a good song that required singing. But the positive reaction I got to a previous song I made that was more on the singing side of things gave me confidence to try going down this path more. And after I made the first song on the EP, “I Want To Believe”, the way it came out exactly how I heard it in my head as I was creating it, gave me all the confidence and inspiration I needed to push forward with the rest of the project. I think the second thing I’ve learned as I made this was, at the end of the day, as long as you love what you’ve made, that’s what matters and what should make you happy. Any reactions from the world (positive or negative) are just extra applause or noise. What do you hope someone who’s never heard your music before feels when they listen to this EP for the first time? I’d like for them to think back on the first time they developed an idea of what true love with someone might look like. For me, that was growing up watching sitcoms like Full House, Growing Pains, and Boy Meets World, and seeing the teen characters go on their first dates, experience their first kiss, and have their first breakup. Those shows gave me a romanticized outlook on love and created this dream in my head of watching cotton candy colored sunsets with your crush. All this embodies the dreamy tone I hoped to capture within these songs. But who am I (or anyone) to say how a particular song should make someone feel?

Photo by Wendy Wei Congrats. You did the thing. The numbers went up. The DMs came flooding in. That one TikTok blew past 2 million views, and suddenly, you’re the moment. You watch your stream count multiply in real time. Spotify throws you on a few mood playlists. Everyone’s reposting the same 12 seconds of your life. It’s a high. No doubt about it. But here’s the question no one prepares you for: What happens after you go viral? Because going viral is exciting. Staying visible is a strategy. What’s Next Matters More Than What Just Happened. The truth is, viral moments don’t build careers; they just open the door. And the music industry is full of artists who sprinted through that door... only to get lost in the hallway. You probably already feel the pressure: drop another song now, ride the momentum, turn the comments into pre-saves, get on a live, build a tour, launch a merch line, optimize your bio, pray for another spike. But here’s what no one tells you: you don’t need to panic. You need to plan. Because if your whole strategy is “hope it happens again,” you’re not building a career, you’re just gambling with exposure. What you do next should serve two things: Your audience Your artistic identity Photo by Sherman Trotz That means taking a step back and asking some hard questions:Did people connect with you or just the soundbite? Is the rest of your catalog aligned with what they just found? What’s the story you’re building beyond a trending audio clip? Because here’s the deal: the same algorithm that put you on can take you off. And what keeps people around isn’t virality. It’s consistency, intention, and vision. That might mean dropping something totally different to show range. It might mean teasing what’s next, not just copying what worked. It might mean doing the unsexy work: building a real fanbase, one human at a time. Also, a word of warning: the vultures are coming.Labels, managers, “playlist plug” people, random cousins with a ring light, all suddenly interested in “helping” your career. But be careful: not everyone who wants to sign you wants to see you win. Take meetings, sure. But keep your vision close. Viral doesn’t mean valuable to everyone; you have to know your worth before someone else defines it for you. Going viral isn’t the peak. It’s the test. Can you take the spark and turn it into something real? Or will you be another forgotten moment, buried under next week’s trending sound? There’s no right path, but one thing is certain: what you do now matters more than what just happened. So breathe. Lock in. And write the next chapter like people are already watching, because they def are.

Rising out of New York’s underground scene with a vibe that's equal parts raw and reflective, A Mello is carving his own lane with emotionally honest lyricism and a melodic flow that doesn’t try too hard, because it doesn’t have to. His latest release, “ Dark Time’s Too Breeze's In Belize ,” feels like a journal entry set to a beat, offering a glimpse into the emotional weight behind the come-up. Following the buzz of his breakout track “ 6 AM TRIP TOO MONTREAL ,” this new single takes a more introspective turn. While the last drop gave us glimpses of ambition and escape, “Dark Times” sounds like the moment you realize success doesn’t erase the struggle, it just adds new layers to it. Over a mellow, haunting production bed, Mello lays it all out. The doubts, the silence, the nights spent wondering if the grind would ever pay off. But it’s not a cry for sympathy. It’s a quiet declaration of strength. He doesn’t overstate it, but you feel it in every bar. The contrast between vulnerability and confidence is where A Mello thrives. He’s not here to flex, he’s here to connect. “Music is therapy for me — and for whoever’s listening. If you're in a dark time, I want this track to remind you that it’s not the end. You’re not alone.” - A Mello That authenticity is exactly why people are starting to pay attention. With rumors of a debut EP set to drop in summer 2025, the buzz is only building. And if this latest track is any indication, A Mello isn’t just a name to watch. He’s a voice we need in the next wave of hip-hop. “Dark Time’s Too Breeze's In Belize” really hits an emotional chord. What inspired the title, and how did the track come together? For "Dark Time’s Too Breezes In Belize," it was meant as motivation not just for me & my team but for the listeners, & anybody who’s still on their grind, it’s about overcoming your challenges, whatever that may be, to now in a better status or situation, a lot of people are gonna be envious and want you to fail, but just remember what and who you’re doing it for. And strive for better times ahead. What inspired the title? I always try to do quirky and unique titles. For my songs, it’s all in the love of the artistry. After I hear the beat, or finish the songs…the title just comes to me. You’re open about the emotional side of your journey. Do you ever feel pressure to keep a certain image, or has being vulnerable always come naturally? This is a good question, I feel like it’s a mix of both, going into the whole music thing with a professional mindset, the idea of “this is what you want to do full time” there’s a lot more that goes into this than just making music, but the music making itself is therapeutic and naturally draws out my vulnerability depending on The mood of the song. Your delivery always feels calm, even when the subject matter gets heavy. Is that a creative choice or just who you are off the mic, too? When it comes to my delivery I try to be creative in all aspects of my music, from tone, delivery, flows, bars, etc, I plan to be very versatile when it comes too my music, I have a lot of different vibes and a lot of different genres I wanna try, even songs in different languages. So it’s definitely a creative choice, but I feel like that comes from my music being heavily inspired by greats like Tory Lanez, the versatility he showcases, which I strive to aim for. You’ve hinted at an EP for summer 2025. What kind of stories or sounds can fans expect from that project? Yes, there’s an EP in the works for the summer. I feel like in this generation, music is missing something New, a new face to really come and make music great again. Music is supposed to resonate, make you feel something, relieve your stresses, and have you vibe out. With this EP, I wanna bring back summer 2016 vibes. I want listeners when you hear the songs, that it makes you wanna get up, dance, go outside, drink, smoke, and have fun. Good music, you’re supposed to feel within. So this EP won’t disappoint. If someone’s going through a “dark time” right now, what’s one message from this track you hope really lands with them? When listening to “Dark Times,” please take comfort in knowing that your dark times are temporary; better times are always ahead. I hope when listening to “Dark Times,” you’re inspired to keep going, and work harder to achieve whatever you set your mind on, your goals are more in reach than you know. Let this track motivate and drive your focus forward.

Photo By: Samantha Levi SkyDxddy , the genre-bending force behind over 150 million streams, steps fully into her power with the release of her debut album TRAUMACORE (RAW & UNCUT) , a visceral, unfiltered body of work aligned with Mental Health Awareness Month. Known for her fearless honesty and refusal to sugarcoat the darkness, SkyDxddy channels her lived experiences into 13 raw, emotionally-charged tracks that explore body dysmorphia, addiction, abuse, and survival. With a focus on advocacy over virality, the project centers the unheard, the silenced, and the deeply wounded, transforming trauma into testimony. This album is clearly your soul on display — raw, unfiltered, and vulnerable. Was there a specific moment when you knew you were ready to release this into the world? A lot of the songs on the album were created a long time ago. I felt like at the time I wasn't really ready to share certain pieces of myself with the world. As well as the world not yet being as progressed as it is now. I think that we're finally in a space where we are opening up dialogue, people are coming forward, and the people no longer want to silence others; instead, they want to hear their stories. I battled with myself a lot on which songs should make the cut, and I think at the end of the day I ended up choosing the ones that most reflected my life, and certain Topics really affecting our world at the moment, such as SA, domestic violence, grooming, etc. I almost feel like there was never going to be a perfect time. It just needed to be done. In your message, you speak directly to survivors, to those who carry invisible scars. What was the most emotionally difficult song to create on this album, and what helped you push through and finish it? I could probably name at least five songs that were incredibly difficult to create, but the one that comes to my mind the most is "Not Guilty." Having witnessed domestic violence firsthand, it sticks with you; it's a painful cycle that's impossible to get out of. Another that was incredibly difficult would have to be "strings," Because that is a very personal song to me that focuses on my experience of being groomed as a young girl. Accepting that was a very painful thing to do, and putting it into words was even more so. But I'm very glad that I did, if it can help someone heal and help them have a little bit of clarity. You’ve said that even if this album doesn’t go viral, it was still “worth it.” How do you personally define success in your art, especially with something as heavy and honest as TRAUMACORE? If even one person hears this album and makes the decision to leave an abusive relationship, it was worth it. If one person who has gone through SA hears it and realizes that it wasn't their fault, it was worth it. If someone who's been groomed hears it and can finally make sense of why it's so difficult to trust and set boundaries and begin doing the work to heal from that, it was worth it. I think if anyone hears any of these songs and they can connect it to their lives and do something that puts them in a better position than they were before they heard it, I'd say it was a massive success. Mental Health Awareness Month feels like the perfect time for this album to be born. Was that intentional? And what conversations are you hoping it will spark, not just in fans, but in the industry itself? It was absolutely intentional. I think one could argue that the industry has had a history of silencing certain things, sweeping certain things under the rug. I hope that this opens the conversation about what can be done to stop that or at least lessen it. I think that each song sparks a different conversation, and that's why I love this project so much. They really don't matter who you are or what you've been through. I guarantee you that at least one song on this album is something that you can relate to. I think that's terrifying and beautiful What's the message you'd like people to take away from this album? Power. Education. Clarity. Validation. I need them to know that what happened to them wasn't their fault. And regardless of everything that they've been through, they can still make a beautiful life for themselves. Once we go through trauma, it isn't the end; it's only the beginning.

Photo by Eze Joshua Let’s set the scene: You’re spiraling. Maybe it’s a breakup. Maybe it’s a quarter-life crisis. Maybe you just saw a photo of your ex looking suspiciously happy. What do you do? You put on your headphones. You cue up the soul-crushing playlist.You press play on that song, the one that hits a little too hard, and you let it ruin you. But somewhere between the third listen and the ugly cry, a thought creeps in:Is this helping me feel better… or just making everything worse? Because in the age of curated sadness and lyric-caption culture, we have to ask:Is sad music actually self-care, or just aestheticized self-sabotage? The Case for Sad Songs as Self-Care Sad music gets it. It mirrors your heartbreak. Your emptiness. Your overthinking. It doesn’t try to fix anything. It just sits with you in the dark. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need. A well-timed sad song can feel like therapy. Like someone’s holding your hand while you unravel, and in a world that constantly tells us to cheer up, move on, and “just be positive,” there’s something radical about letting yourself feel. You don’t always need a solution. Sometimes, you just need a soundtrack. But When Does it Become Too Much? Here’s where it gets tricky. Because that same playlist that felt like a hug on Monday? By Thursday, it’s a loop of emotional masochism. Instead of moving through your sadness, you’re marinating in it. You start mistaking emotional validation for emotional progress. You let the lyrics confirm your worst thoughts about yourself. You start romanticizing the spiral. And suddenly, you’re not just feeling sad, you’re feeding it. This isn’t to say sad music is bad. But like anything emotional, it needs balance.It ’s one thing to cry it out with Sufjan. It’s another to play “Liability” every day and wonder why you haven’t bounced back yet. Are You Healing... or Just Making a Mood Board Out of Your Trauma? Photo by Matthias Groeneveld There’s also the performative angle. We live in a time where sadness is aesthetic, where pain is content. Where sharing your depressive playlist is almost a flex. (“Yeah, I’m unwell, but at least my taste in music is elite.”) Sadness has become stylized. We wear it like a jacket. Post about it like it’s branding. We start consuming our feelings like entertainment, and calling it “processing.” But feeling seen isn’t the same as feeling better. And self-awareness doesn’t always equal self-work. So, is listening to sad music self-care or self-sabotage? The answer is: yes. It’s both. It depends on why you’re listening and what you do with the emotion it pulls out of you. If it helps you cry, process, release? Beautiful. If it keeps you stuck, spiraling, numb? Maybe it’s time to hit skip. Either way, your playlist doesn’t have to be a prison. Let the music move through you, don’t let it bury you.

There was a time when albums were sacred. Tracklists were intentional. Sequencing mattered. People sat with a full project, front to back, headphones in, lyrics pulled up, no distractions. Then came Gen Z. And with them? Chaos. Shuffle mode. Mood-based consumption. Song skipped at the 47-second mark if the vibe’s off. Today, music isn’t necessarily something you sit with. It’s something you scroll past, save, or stitch to a thirst trap. So, yeah: Gen Z doesn’t really believe in albums. They believe in vibes. The Album Is Dead. Long Live the Playlist Let’s be clear. Gen Z isn’t anti-music, far from it. They’re consuming more music than any generation before them. But the format? That’s what’s changed. Albums are too slow. Too linear. Too... committed. Meanwhile, playlists? They’re personal. Fluid. Designed for micro-moods like “eating hot chips while overthinking” or “feeling like the main character but also clinically unwell.” Why listen to a 13-track album arc when you can have a shuffled experience curated by your own spiral? The Algorithm Rewards Moments—Not Narratives Photo by cottonbro studio Attention is currency, and albums don’t pay fast enough. Platforms like TikTok, Spotify, and YouTube favor the single, the snippet, the instant emotional hit. You don’t need to craft a full-length journey; you need 10 seconds that slap and loop well. Albums require patience. Playlists don’t. And Gen Z? They’ve grown up in a world where everything competes for your focus, and very few things earn your full attention. The album lost the battle to the scroll. Still, it’s not all bad. Gen Z may not worship albums the way their older siblings did, but they’ve created something new: meme-core music culture, hyper-curation, genreless soundscapes, and playlists that feel more like diaries than catalogs. You won’t find many of them repping deep cuts or defending interludes...but you will find them stitching three different genres into one playlist, sharing tracks like inside jokes, and building ecosystems of emotion through sound. It’s not polished. It’s not traditional. But it’s real. So no, Gen Z didn’t kill the album out of laziness or disrespect. They just rejected the idea that music should come in one shape, one story, one format. In a world that feels fractured and fast, they matched the medium to the moment

Photo By: Trevor Brady Lights has always had a gift for turning emotional chaos into synth-laced confessionals, but on her sixth studio album ' A6 ,' she doesn’t just open the door, she kicks it off the damn hinges. Welcome to 'A6.' This isn’t a pop record made for background noise. It's for the spiraling, the healing, and the ones who feel too much and say too little. With glittering synths and moody guitar lines, Lights hands over her most intimate chapters yet. It's raw, unfiltered, and wired with self-awareness. Tracks like “ DAMAGE ” hit like a panic attack on the dancefloor. It's cinematic, messy, and unforgettable. Then there’s “ SURFACE TENSION ,” pulling us into Berlin disco shadows with icy cool precision. Each song is a head trip: part therapy, part late-night drive. And then there's “ CLINGY , " the pre-release standout, which is unhinged in the best way. Lights turns emotional dependency into a bop with teeth. “ You could be the most confident person when that feeling creeps up, ” she explains to BUZZMUSIC. That tug-of-war also plays out in the production, shifting from breezy guitar to smothering closeness. By the time you realize you’ve caught feelings, you're already deep. But 'A6' isn’t just about losing control. “ THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR ” hits like a late-night voicemail to yourself, stripped, reflective, and just uncomfortable enough to feel like truth. Lights doesn’t want your pity. She wants you to look. With four JUNO s and nearly half a billion streams, she could coast. Instead, she’s pulling us into her latest evolution, which demands your full attention. And she’s taking it on the road with the (A)LIVE AGAIN Tour coming to a city near you. 'A6' takes us on a rollercoaster of synth-fueled chaos and deep feels. When you first started cooking up this record, were you chasing a vibe, or did it just naturally spiral into this beautiful madness? I initially set out to make a synth wave record. All of my A6 inspo playlists were heavily synthwave forward, but then it started to naturally lean more towards darkwave, and the pacing of the sonic inspiration really started shifting to something still melodic and feely but way more fast paced. I wrote Damage, Surface Tension and Alive Again and then knew I had to go back and shift some of the production in the previous songs to fit the new vibe. Drinks on the Coast, for example, was one that was originally way more synth wave and half-time, but I doubled-timed it and brought in a ton of guitar work. "CLINGY" is that brutally honest anthem we didn’t know we needed. How did you manage to make obsession sound both hot and hilarious without making us feel totally called out? I cackled reading this question! I had a summer where I found myself feeling clingy, and I’m not normally a jealous type of person. It caught me off guard, and I didn’t like how that felt, so I ended up working on myself a lot after that. But when I wrote this song, the first thing that came together was the chorus, and it was really intimate and heavy, and that is exactly how the feelings of clinginess and jealousy run through my mind, so I knew it had to go there. Facts are, no matter how confident you are, you’ll find moments of weakness, and you’ll learn so much from that! You’ve always been a genre shapeshifter, but on 'A6,' you basically said, “rules? never heard of ’em.” What sounds or influences snuck in this time that might surprise even your ride-or-die fans? A6 is equal parts old-Lights, new-Lights, dark wave, new wave, synthwave (all the waves), and Midwest emo. But the surprising influence might be some of the heavier bass sounds that I’ve perfected since really digging into my side project, LŪN. It’s much heavier and mainly instrumental, so my synth sound banks are filled with heavier sounds now, and I had a good time bringing a few of those into A6.  "THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR" hits like an emotional sneak attack. How do you walk the line between spilling your guts and keeping a little mystery for yourself? I think it’s really important to draw emotion from personal experience to inject into the music, but without making it about me. Art is meant to be absorbed and interpreted by the individual, I’m not going to make reference to very specific moments and people or places because that experience is only my own and therefore, not relatable. It’s a skill I have been honing for years, where I know exactly what that song is about, and it has shades of my pain or my experience, but still can be felt and interpreted the way the listener needs to hear it. The (A)LIVE AGAIN Tour is already causing a frenzy. What’s one moment in the set where you just know  the crowd’s gonna lose their minds? My absolute favourite moment is when we play Alive Again. It has this “you only live once, so make the most of this moment” kind of energy, and we throw beach balls into the crowd, and it just really goes off. The chorus itself has no melody or rhyme; it’s just yelling, and I think everyone can easily participate in a moment like that!

Let’s be real ... there’s a special kind of chaos in knowing someone’s bad for you and diving in headfirst anyway. Lara Villani bottles that exact brand of emotional recklessness on her newest track “ Losing My Mind ,” and instead of handing us a life jacket, she straps us to the ship and lets it sink in style. The Australian pop-R&B up-and-comer isn’t just singing about temptation ,  she’s swimming in it, soaking wet with want and absolutely zero regard for consequences. This isn’t love. This is compulsion. And she makes it sound so damn good. Sonically, “Losing My Mind” rides the line between sultry and cinematic. Think dimly lit hotel rooms, mascara-stained pillowcases, and the kind of beat that feels like it was made for making terrible decisions. Lara’s vocals are smooth but layered with tension, like she knows she’s spiraling but can’t hit the brakes. There’s a subtle desperation beneath the gloss, a push-pull that mirrors the very relationship she’s singing about. It's not just addictive; it’s deliberately self-destructive. And that’s what makes this track slap so hard. Villani isn’t asking for your sympathy ;  she’s dragging you into the mess with her. We’ve all danced with danger in disguise, ignored the red flags, let lust override logic. This song doesn’t judge you for it. It hands you the aux and says, “play it again.” While previous releases saw her dabbling in pop-rock with a more emotional edge, “Losing My Mind” feels like Lara finally found the smoke-filled room where her voice belongs. It's sleek. It’s sexy. It's unhinged in the best way. Lara Villani isn’t just losing her mind ... she’s making sure you lose yours too. And honestly? We’re not mad about it. “Losing My Mind” dives headfirst into that dangerously magnetic kind of love ,  the one you know is bad news but can’t walk away from. Was this written from personal experience, and how did you channel that emotional chaos into the song? Absolutely—“Losing My Mind” definitely comes from personal experience. I think most of us have had that one connection where it feels so intense and electric, but deep down, you know it’s not right. You tell yourself to let go, but there’s something addictive about the chaos—it keeps pulling you back in. Writing this song was like therapy for me. I leaned into that emotional whirlwind, let the vulnerability spill out, and shaped it into something honest, dramatic, and a little unhinged—because that’s exactly what it felt like. You’ve evolved from emotional pop-rock into this sleek, sultry pop-R&B sound . W hat sparked that shift, and do you feel like you’ve finally landed in your creative lane? Totally—I feel like I’ve finally found the sound that feels most me. I’ve always loved emotional storytelling, but I started leaning into pop-R&B because it gave me the space to be softer, sexier, and more vulnerable, while still holding onto that catchy, melodic core I’ve always loved about pop. The shift came when I stopped trying to make music I thought people wanted me to make, and instead started creating the kind of songs I’d want on my own playlist. That change felt really freeing. Now, I’m in a space where I can be unapologetically emotional and empowered—and it feels like home. Your roots in musical theatre and blues are a unique combo. How do those influences shape the way you perform and write today, especially on a track as emotionally charged as this? My background in musical theatre taught me how to fully embody a story—how to live inside the emotion and deliver it with intention. Blues gave me that raw, soul-deep connection to feeling, where less is often more and every note matters. So now, when I write or perform something like Losing My Mind, those influences come through naturally. I approach the song like I’m sharing a story that’s deeply personal—one that I’ve lived through. It’s dramatic, it’s vulnerable, and it’s meant to hit you right in the chest. You’ve already had a sold-out debut show and landed coverage in Rolling Stone and Triple J. Do you feel pressure to keep leveling up, or are you more focused on staying true to your vision regardless of the buzz? It’s definitely a bit of both. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t pressure—when people start paying attention, you naturally want to keep delivering and growing. But at the same time, I’ve learned that chasing validation can quickly take you off track. What matters most to me is staying true to my vision, my sound, and my story. The buzz is amazing and I’m so grateful, but I try to keep my focus on making music that feels real to me. That’s what keeps it meaningful. If someone’s playing “Losing My Mind” on repeat, what do you hope they’re feeling, or confronting, when they listen? If someone’s playing “Losing My Mind” on repeat, I want it to be their anthem—the soundtrack to those wild, tangled feelings when love takes over and logic fades away. I hope they feel seen in that chaos, that mix of passion and confusion, and find strength knowing they’re not alone in the madness. It’s a celebration of vulnerability and the messy, beautiful side of being completely swept up in something you can’t let go of.

Photo by Yulia Pribytkova Remember when “industry plant” meant something? Like, when it actually referred to an artist fabricated by labels to look underground while being quietly boosted with major-label resources and smoke-and-mirror backstories? Yeah. Now it means: "This artist is successful and I personally don’t like it." "They got too popular too fast." "They’re hot, well-dressed, and didn’t record on a cracked version of Ableton in a laundry room like me." In 2025, “industry plant” has become the most overused insult in music culture, and it’s not just tired, it’s lazy. From Legit Critique to Internet Buzzword There was a time when the label made sense. Think: artists with suspicious backstories, fake indie aesthetics, and shady label ties they pretended didn’t exist. That critique mattered, especially in an era where labels were co-opting underground movements for clout. But now? The second an artist blows up on TikTok, lands a big collab, or—God forbid—has good lighting and a cohesive rollout, the “plant” accusations fly. It’s not about integrity anymore. It’s about envy disguised as analysis. Just Because They Have a Strategy Doesn’t Mean They’re Planted Let’s be clear: not every artist with a label, team, or viral song is a puppet. Most of your favorite artists, yes, even the ones you think are “indie to the bone," have marketing budgets, stylists, sync deals, and social media strategy. That’s not selling out. That’s called working smart in a broken-ass industry. Meanwhile, the people calling them industry plants are often just as image-conscious, just as strategic, and would 100% take the same deal if it landed in their inbox. The Real Problem? You Just Don’t Like Pop Music Let’s be honest: a lot of “industry plant” accusations are just thinly veiled genre elitism. You don’t like clean vocals, catchy melodies, or anything that feels too polished, so you label it fake. You want “real” artists to struggle. You want their art to come with visible pain and poverty. You want them to make zero money until they hit 500k monthly listeners on Spotify. And if they don’t go through that crucible? Suddenly, they’re manufactured. It’s not a personality to hate success. Get better critiques. Also… You Might Just Be Mad They Got There First A lot of “plant” accusations are just projections. Let’s be real: you’ve been grinding for years. You’ve played the dive bars, released the EPs, and begged your friends to share your link. Then someone you’ve never heard of gets a sync on Euphoria and drops one moody TikTok and now they’ve got a tour and merch. You’re not mad they’re planted. You’re mad you’re not blooming. Final Chorus Is label manipulation still a thing? Absolutely.Should we be critical of fake narratives, repackaged “DIY” branding, and artists who pretend to be grassroots while backed by major money? Of course.But if everyone who gets a boost is a plant, the term means nothing anymore. So maybe stop calling every rising star a plant, and start calling them what they are: artists doing their damn job in an algorithm-obsessed world. Let’s stop using “industry plant” as a knee-jerk insult and start having smarter conversations. Because the real fakes? They aren’t in the spotlight. They’re just loud in the comments.

Every once in a while, an artist comes along who isn’t just here to sing; they’re here to say something. And with her debut single “ Never the Same ,” 21-year-old pop powerhouse A rina Di is making it clear that she’s one of them. No fluff, no filter, just raw, emotional storytelling wrapped in bold production and an unforgettable vocal presence. Arina Di describes herself as a storyteller first. With a background in both theater and film, she’s no stranger to building emotion, tension, and transformation through her art. “Never the Same” captures all of that. From the very first line, “Shhh... can you hear that? The sound of the woman who built herself from nothing," you know you’re in for something deeper than your average breakup song. The track is an anthem of personal rebirth. It’s about taking your power back after being underestimated, dismissed, or broken down, and doing it without apology. Arina Di’s lyrics cut sharp, but they’re also deeply relatable. She walks us through a journey from darkness to defiance, turning pain into fuel, silence into voice, and survival into strength. And it’s not performative, it’s personal. “ I want anyone who listens to this to feel stronger, like this song puts words to something they couldn’t say out loud. That’s the whole point of doing this, ” says Arina Di. Musically, “Never the Same” balances dark pop production with big, emotionally charged vocals that land somewhere between Billie Eilish’s haunting vulnerability and Lady Gaga’s theatrical fire. There’s sass in the bridge, drama in the build, and power in every line. You don’t just hear this song, you feel it. More than anything, this release marks the arrival of an artist who is ready to own every part of her story. And the best part? She’s just getting started. “Never the Same” is such a powerful introduction. What made you choose this track as your debut? It just felt right. “Never the Same” is the most honest reflection of where I am right now — it’s emotional, raw, and full of energy I’ve held in for years. I’ve been dreaming of doing this since I was a kid, recording covers in my room, and when it finally came time to release something of my own, I knew it had to be this song. It’s more than music for me — it’s me finally stepping into my power and saying, “I’m here, and I’m not hiding anymore.” The song moves through pain, empowerment, and transformation. How much of this was drawn directly from your own life? Honestly? Most of it. Every part of this song comes from a real place — from feeling like I had to stay quiet, from heartbreak, from being underestimated. Writing it was like pouring my journal into lyrics. But at the same time, it’s also about healing. It’s me turning all that pain into something powerful. That shift from “they broke me” to “I built myself” — that’s real. That’s mine. You’ve mentioned your roots in theater and film — how do those experiences shape the way you write and perform music? A lot. I grew up on stage, so performing has always felt like home. Theater taught me how to fully feel something and tell a story with it — not just act it, but really be it. That definitely shows up in how I sing and write. I don’t care about sounding “perfect” — I care about making people feel something. Every time I perform, I try to step into the story and live it out loud. There's a strong message of divine feminine energy and self-worth in the lyrics. Who inspires that side of you? So many women. Artists who share their truth unapologetically. And honestly, I inspire myself sometimes, too. There’s a version of me I used to hide — softer, emotional, intuitive — and I’ve realized that’s actually where my power lives. This song helped me reconnect with that side of me. That inner voice that knows her worth and doesn’t need to explain it to anyone. What would you say to someone who feels stuck in their own “before” moment, not quite in their power yet? You’re not broken — you’re just in the middle of becoming. It’s okay not to feel powerful all the time. Start small. Be honest with yourself. Take one step, then another. The version of you that’s waiting on the other side of all this? She’s already there — you just haven’t met her yet. But you will. And once you do, everything changes. What's next for you? I’m just getting started. More music is coming — songs that go even deeper, with visuals and performances that bring it all to life. I want to build a world around this energy. This year is all about showing up fully as myself and creating things that help other people do the same.