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Let’s be real, most “industry events” blur together. Same guest lists, same panels, same recycled talking points. This wasn’t that. On March 27–28, NEW YOU Media hosted its fifth annual Beauty Experience & Awards at 1 Hotel South Beach, and it felt less like a celebration and more like a snapshot of where beauty is actually headed next. Over two days, founders, creatives, media, and cultural heavyweights all landed in one place, people who aren’t just participating in the beauty industry but actively shaping it. Names like Patrick Ta, Rachel Zoe, Jeannie Mai, Jesse Metcalfe, and Cynthia Bailey were all in the mix, but what stood out wasn’t just the celebrity presence. It was the balance between influence and actual execution. This wasn’t just about who’s trending. It was about whose building. The weekend opened with an exclusive VIP reception introducing NEW YOU’s “pretty” supplement line, setting the tone for what the event does best, blending product launches with real industry access. From there, things moved fast: keynote speakers, expert-led panels, a curated brand expo, and the Interactive Beauty Bar, where attendees could actually engage with products instead of just hearing about them. There was also a heavy media presence, red carpets, podcast activations, live-stream moments, the kind of setup that doesn’t just document the event, but amplifies it in real time. Then came the awards. And instead of feeling like a filler segment, this is where the event locked in its credibility. Rachel Zoe took home Style Icon of the Year, while Patrick Ta secured Brand of the Year, a move that reflects how much creator-led brands are dominating right now. Jeannie Mai was named Health and Beauty Trailblazer, reinforcing her shift from media personality to industry voice. And then there’s Farouk Shami receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award, a reminder that while the industry is evolving fast, legacy still matters. Other standout wins showed where things are heading: AI innovation is taking a front seat with LG-CHI’s Color Master Factory Podcast hosts Dara Levitan and Carly Rivlin are being recognized as Beauty Podcasters of the Year Influencers like Courtney Noonan are continuing to blur the line between media and brand power That mix of categories says everything. Beauty isn’t just product anymore, it’s content, tech, personality, and positioning all at once. And that’s really what NEW YOU nailed this year. It didn’t try to separate beauty from culture; it showed how intertwined they’ve become. Wellness, media, tech, and identity are all feeding into the same space, and the brands that get that are the ones actually moving forward. Five years in, the NEW YOU Beauty Experience & Awards isn’t trying to prove it belongs. It already does.

Southern California country-pop artist Alyssa Ann is stepping into 2026 with a powerful message of strength on her new single “She’s a Warrior,” released March 13. Blending country storytelling with rock-driven energy, the song was co-written with Sherrie Haney and inspired by friends facing serious medical diagnoses. Instead of leaning into heartbreak, the track focuses on resilience, delivering an uplifting reminder that even in life’s hardest moments, strength can still rise through adversity. Alyssa Ann has been steadily building momentum in the independent country scene, blending influences from artists like Shania Twain, Carrie Underwood, and Kacey Musgraves with a California country-pop edge. Her emotionally driven songwriting has already earned her nominations at the Josie Music Awards for Vocalist of the Year (Country Female), Emergent Artist (Country Female), and Songwriter Achievement for her original track “Southland.” For Alyssa, music has always been a way to connect and heal. With “She’s a Warrior,” she hopes listeners facing their own battles, or supporting someone who is, find a sense of encouragement in the message. The single will be celebrated with a release party on March 26 at Desert 5 Spot in Hollywood. Alyssa Ann will also appear at a Stagecoach kickoff charity event on April 22 and open for Whey Jennings at Beach Country Fest on May 25. With a debut album in the works and a growing list of live performances, Alyssa Ann continues to prove that country music still has room for stories that lift people up when they need it most. She’s a Warrior” was inspired by friends facing difficult medical diagnoses. What was the writing process like when turning those experiences into a song? I co-wrote the song originally with Sherrie Haney, who started off the songwriting process by telling the true story of how her friend learned of her diagnosis. I then came in and really perfected the final two verses discussing her overcoming this obstacle by rising up and not letting this define her. The goal of the song was to highlight the victory and never the obstacle. I wanted the song to finish on a powerful high note (literally and metaphorically) to really emphasize her true power within and give hope to my aunt, who is also going through a difficult health diagnosis. Though the song was originally written to support these women in our lives, our hope is that the song can reach many others in the midst of adversity and help them in some way.  Your sound blends country storytelling with pop and rock energy. How did your influences shape the style you’re creating? My dad taught me all about music at a young age and introduced me to artists like Stevie Nicks, Linda Ronstadt, and Janis Joplin, who have deeply inspired and shaped me as an artist. Later on, I developed my own musical taste, and these artists consisted of: Carrie Underwood, Shania Twain, Maren Morris, Little Big Town, The Band Perry, and Kacey Musgraves. These female powerhouses definitely shaped my love for country music and inspired me to write empowering songs with strong messages.  I’ve always enjoyed high-energy music, but it’s much more powerful when you can relate to the story behind the music. The goal for “She’s a Warrior” was to take an upbeat song and tell the true story of a woman overcoming the biggest trial of her life. Inspired by true events (my Aunt and Sherrie’s friend), we wrote a song that would invoke strength and inspire resilience in the face of adversity.  Music clearly plays a therapeutic role in your life. How has songwriting helped you process difficult moments? Songwriting has helped me to reflect and deal with my emotions in a healthy way. Instead of fantasizing and exaggerating my experiences, I’ve been able to take away what really happened, how it made me feel, and what I’m going to do next by writing a song about it. Growing up as an only child was difficult because I was very social, but I didn’t have many people to talk/relate to. Being able to express myself in writing has really helped me feel less lonely and process my emotions effectively. My biggest hope for my writing is for it to resonate with others and help them feel less alone by seeing another person share their experiences. To me, if a song of mine can help at least one person, then it’s done its job and has been a true success.  You’ve performed at venues like The Bluebird Cafe and The Viper Room. Which live performance so far has meant the most to you? One of my biggest accomplishments by far was playing a full set at the most famous venue for launching singer/songwriter’s careers in Los Angeles. My first headliner experience at the Hotel Cafe back in November 2025 was my first time ever performing at the venue, and we had a full house! So many people showed up to support, and it really meant the world. I was so honored, and I am still in shock that I experienced this moment in my career. Definitely completing a milestone and checking off my bucket list.  With a debut album in the works, how do you see your sound evolving from your earlier singles to what’s coming next? My sound is currently evolving every day, especially from when I first started recording my singles back in 2021 to now. I’ve come a long way vocally, and you can tell how my voice matures through the order of each song that has been released. The defining single that has led the way for this change is definitely my most recent release, “She’s a Warrior”. I really come into my own with fast-paced lyrics, powerful vocal parts, and belting the entire final chorus. My confidence really shines in this song, and this is just the beginning of how it will show in my music. My confidence really shines in this song, and this is just the beginning of how it will show in my music “moving forward.”

Sophia Sigma isn’t your typical techno artist, and that’s exactly why she stands out. Born in Armenia with Yezidi roots, raised between Russia and France, and now based in Amsterdam, her path into electronic music is anything but linear. Before stepping into techno, she was classically trained in opera and fronting rock and metal bands, an unlikely foundation that now defines her sound. Over the past decade, she’s quietly built real credibility, from winning the DENAR RCRDS ADE Sampler Contest to landing releases on KMS Records, the legendary imprint founded by Kevin Saunderson. Add in a first-place win with Rebekah and a film soundtrack placement, and it’s clear she’s not just experimenting, she’s building something intentional. On La Mélodie , that vision fully clicks into place. The track opens more like a cinematic score than a club record. Soft, operatic French vocals drift in before the beat even touches the track, creating this almost weightless moment that quickly pulls you into a driving psytrance rhythm. When it shifts, it hits. Hard. There’s a tension between elegance and intensity that most artists wouldn’t even attempt, let alone balance this cleanly. What really makes La Mélodie land is how natural the fusion feels. With her background, this could have easily turned into something overworked or chaotic, but instead, it’s controlled and deliberate. The vocals don’t just sit on top of the production; they carry it, giving the track a sense of identity that a lot of electronic releases lack. There’s also this cinematic, almost fairytale-like energy throughout, like you’re stepping into the opening scene of something bigger. You can easily picture this hitting a festival stage right at sunset and completely shifting the atmosphere. And yeah, the whole “techno opera princess” label floating around online sounds a little ridiculous at first. But after hearing this, it actually makes sense. She’s doing something most producers wouldn’t even try, and more importantly, it feels real. Nothing about this sounds like a gimmick or a trend play. More than anything, La Mélodie feels like a turning point. Not just another release, but a moment where an artist fully steps into who they are without compromise. At a time when so much electronic music starts to blur together, Sophia Sigma is doing the opposite, making something distinct, intentional, and actually memorable.

A lot of artists claim they’re redefining jazz right now. Most of them are just repackaging it. EBBA is one of the few that are actually doing something with it. The NYC-based, Swedish-born singer-songwriter and pianist comes with a real foundation. Berklee Presidential Scholar, collaborator with Jon Batiste, working across projects like Dana and Alden, and stepping into rooms with producers tied to names like Solange and Clairo. Somewhere , her latest EP, strips all of that back and lands somewhere much more personal. The project is rooted in the loss of her brother Otto, who passed away from cancer when she was four years old. That kind of backstory usually leads to something heavy, dense, almost suffocating. Instead, this feels… light. Not in a dismissive way. In a way that’s almost unsettling. EBBA doesn’t build this EP around grief as a spectacle. She treats it like something that exists quietly in the background of a life that kept moving. The result is a project that feels more like memory than mourning. Sonically, this is where she separates herself. Jazz is clearly the backbone, but it never feels technical or performative. There’s no moment where she’s trying to prove how skilled she is, even though she easily could. The piano is minimal, precise, and emotionally loaded without ever becoming dramatic. Space is used better than most artists use full arrangements. Her voice follows the same logic. Soft, controlled, and intentional. She doesn’t reach for big vocal moments because she doesn’t need to. The restraint is what makes it hit. “Letter to an old soul” sets the tone early, built around questions aimed at a future version of herself. It’s reflective without being nostalgic, almost like she’s documenting uncertainty in real time. Then “Orosfro” shifts into anxiety about the future, decisions, and the quiet panic that comes with not knowing where life is heading. That’s where the EP really starts to land. Because it’s not just about loss. It’s about time. The past sits next to the future the entire way through. Her brother’s absence exists alongside questions about who she’s becoming, where she’s going, and what life is supposed to look like now. That contrast gives the project tension without ever forcing it. And that’s the thing. Nothing here feels forced. In an era where vulnerability is often packaged and over-explained, “Somewhere” feels almost uncomfortable in how natural it is. There’s no attempt to guide the listener on how to feel. No dramatic arcs, no overproduction, no emotional hand-holding. Just moments. “ Somewhere is about losing someone you love, and I hope these songs can bring comfort and hope to anyone who needs it," EBBA explains. That intention comes through without being pushed. The EP doesn’t try to heal you. It just exists in a way that might. EBBA isn’t trying to reinvent jazz with this project. She’s doing something more difficult. She’s making it feel human, current, and quietly devastating without ever raising her voice. And that restraint is exactly why it stays with you.

There’s a difference between songs that play in the club and songs that actually feel like the club. Scarlita ’s new single “Fever” lands firmly in the second category. Built on glossy pop instincts with a pulse of electronic production and subtle R&B influence, “Fever” captures that exact moment when the night peaks. The DJ is finally playing your songs, the room feels electric, and suddenly everyone around you feels like part of the same story. It is not about one person or one interaction. It is about the collective high of being there, fully in it. Then, just as quickly, it disappears. Lights on. Reality hits. The spell breaks. That fleeting tension is what gives “Fever” its edge. Instead of dragging the moment into something overly emotional, Scarlita keeps it playful and self-aware. The track understands that the best nights are the ones you cannot hold onto, and it leans into that without forcing a deeper narrative. Vocally, Scarlita balances softness with control. There is an inviting tone that pulls you in, but there is also a steady confidence behind every line. The production builds a strong atmosphere with layered textures and pulsing rhythms that keep the energy moving. It feels polished without losing personality, avoiding the trap of sounding like another predictable pop-house record. What really pushes “Fever” further is its intention. Underneath the dancefloor energy, there is a clear message of self-affirmation. This is not just a song about going out. It is about how you feel in those moments. The idea of telling yourself you look good and owning that energy comes through naturally, giving the track replay value beyond the club. Following “Passenger Princess,” this release shows that Scarlita is building something cohesive. The club is not just a setting in her music. It is a space for connection, confidence, and release. That perspective gives her a clear identity as she moves toward her debut album. “Fever” does exactly what it needs to do. It pulls you into the moment, lets you feel it fully, and leaves you wanting it to last just a little longer. You describe the club as your “church.” What is it about that environment that feels spiritual to you, not just entertaining? Sometimes all you really need is a girls’ night. Dancing with your friends and hearing your favorite songs can honestly be healing; it’s almost like therapy. Sisterhood is really important to me, and I love spaces where girls are hyping each other up and just being free. I’m an ambivert, so I need my alone time, but I also really need those moments of connection and energy with my friends. For me, the club can be that place where you reconnect with people and just let go for a little while. “Fever” captures a moment that disappears as fast as it comes. Do you think chasing those highs is freeing, or is it a cycle people get stuck in? When you’re having fun, time really does fly. But Fever isn’t about chasing a high. The song is really about being present in a moment that feels electric. You’re dancing with your friends, the music is loud, everyone is laughing, and you just want the night to keep going. It’s that feeling where you’re already having the best time, but you’re still like, wait, I want more of this. So Fever isn’t about getting stuck in a cycle; it’s about appreciating those moments of joy and connection while you’re in them. You build confidence into your lyrics through affirmations. Do you see your music as a tool for self-transformation, or is it more about reflecting how you already feel?  I would say absolutely both. Words are really powerful, and they can be transformative. That’s why affirmations are important to me. It’s important to uplift yourself, but also to uplift the people around you. The world can already be hard and mean enough, so choosing to spread love and confidence is never a bad thing. I make music for the girlies who want to feel good about themselves, feel hot, feel confident, and feel free. Through my music, I try to create something that makes people feel good about themselves and maybe even shift the way they see themselves a little. If someone listens to one of my songs and walks away feeling a little more empowered, then I feel like I’ve done my job. A lot of pop music about nightlife leans into escapism. Yours feels more intentional. How do you balance fun with meaning without killing the energy? For me the energy always comes first. I want the song to feel good and make people want to move. But within that, I like to add intention and emotion, because to me nightlife isn’t about escaping, it’s about connection. I’m naturally more in tune with my emotions; I always have been. I’m a Cancer, so I feel things very deeply, and I’ve always put that energy into my art. Some nights out with my besties, we’ll get reflective and remind ourselves of all the growth we’ve made as young adults-and I think that’s beautiful. Connection, not escapism. I also feel like if you’re running from something, you should eventually stop. Anything can feel very dark (including the club) if your intention is that. That’s why I think being present, appreciating the moment, and connecting with people is so important. For Fever specifically, it’s not too deep though lol, I just wanted to create a summer vibe that you don’t need to think too hard on. Some of the most fun nights out are actually really meaningful. You’re with your friends, you’re feeling confident, you’re creating memories. I think you can have depth in a song without taking away the fun. The goal is that someone can dance to it in the moment, but also feel something from it after. You’re building a tight community with your “Litas.” What does being part of that world actually mean beyond just listening to your music? Honestly, the community we’re building with my Litas means everything to me. They’re my girlies—this isn’t just about music, it’s about connection. I wouldn’t be here without them. They believe in me, and I pour that same energy right back into them. It’s a space where we uplift each other, have fun, and just exist in a really positive, high-energy environment. Being a Lita goes way deeper than just listening to my songs. It’s about being part of the world I’m creating. They get early access to everything—exclusive content I don’t post anywhere else, personal vlogs, behind-the-scenes moments from rehearsals, fittings, and shows. They’re tapped into the full experience, not just the final product. It really feels like we’re building something together, and I want them to feel included every step of the way.

A lot of artists talk about manifestation. Saige Noelle actually builds it into the music. On “RISE,” the Norwalk R&B artist leans into something that feels both personal and intentional. This is not just a song about chasing a dream. It is about surviving the space in between, where nothing is guaranteed, progress feels slow, and doubt starts creeping in. Instead of masking that tension, Saige uses it as fuel. The track opens softly, almost weightless. Her high notes feel controlled and calming, like they are designed to settle you before anything else hits. That choice matters. It sets the tone for what the song is trying to do, which is not just sound good but shift your energy. There is a quiet confidence in how she approaches it, never forcing emotion but letting it build naturally. As the record unfolds, that calm turns into conviction. The hook lands with purpose. When she repeats “I’ma rise, you know I’ma do it,” it does not feel like a lyric thrown in for effect. It feels like a statement she is actively choosing to believe in real time. That is where the song separates itself. It is not reflective; it is present. You are hearing the belief form as she delivers it. Sonically, Saige balances classic R&B influence with a more modern, minimal approach. The production gives her just enough space to carry the message without overcomplicating it. Nothing feels crowded. Every choice points back to the same idea. Clarity, intention, and control. What makes “RISE” stand out is how natural it feels. There is no sense of trying too hard to be inspirational. The energy comes from somewhere instinctive, as the song wrote itself once she tapped into the right frequency. That kind of authenticity is hard to fake, and it is exactly what keeps the track grounded. As an independent artist, Saige Noelle is building her lane on self-awareness and purpose. “RISE” is not just about where she is going; it is about how she is choosing to get there. Steady, intentional, and rooted in belief. And right now, that feels more powerful than anything else. A lot of artists say they believe in manifestation, but you’re actively doing it in your lyrics. Do you ever feel pressure to live up to what you’re speaking into existence? I wouldn’t even call it pressure, I’d call it accountability. When I write something like “I’ma rise,” I’m not just saying it to sound good; I’m saying it because I need to hear it too. There are definitely moments where life tests that, but that’s the whole point of manifestation. It’s not about already being there, it’s about choosing to believe it even when you’re not. My lyrics kind of keep me in check. They remind me of who I said I was becoming. The intro of “Rise” feels almost therapeutic before it becomes empowering. How intentional are you about the emotional journey your listener goes through in a song? It’s very intentional, but it also happens naturally. I think of my songs like conversations or even like a release. With RISE, I wanted it to start in a real, vulnerable place, almost like a quiet moment with yourself before it builds into something stronger. That shift from softness to empowerment is how healing actually feels to me. You don’t just wake up confident; you work your way there. You said the song felt like you were channeling something rather than writing it. Do you trust instinct more than structure when creating? Definitely instinct first. With RISE, the chorus came to me almost immediately when I heard the beat, and that kind of set the tone for everything. When something feels that natural, I don’t like to overthink it. Structure comes in later to shape it, but the feeling is the first spark and is what I trust the most. That’s usually when I’m the most honest. Being independent can test your confidence constantly. What’s been the hardest moment where you had to remind yourself to “rise” for real? Honestly, the quiet moments can be the hardest when you’re putting so much into your music, and you don’t immediately see it reflected back. There have been times when I questioned if I was doing enough or moving fast enough. But  RISE  came out of those moments. I had to remind myself that growth isn’t always loud or visible. Sometimes, rising just looks like not giving up on yourself and not allowing fear to hold you back.  Your sound blends classic R&B with something more modern and stripped back. How do you decide when to hold back versus when to go all in sonically? Sometimes it’s less about emotion and more about frequency for me. With RISE, I really wanted the energy of it to hit on a subconscious level, not just an emotional one. So I was intentional about when to hold back and when to build, so the listener doesn’t just hear it, but so they can also feel it without even realizing why.

There’s a specific kind of emotional limbo that doesn’t get talked about enough. Not heartbreak. Not closure. Just that quiet, uncomfortable space where you know something is over, but you’re still pretending it isn’t. Samantha LaPorta ’s “Whisper Me A Lie” lives exactly there, and it refuses to rush you out of it. Built on a cinematic piano foundation, the track feels stripped but intentional. Nothing is overproduced, nothing is fighting for attention. The space in this song is the point. It lets her voice sit front and center, and that’s where LaPorta quietly flexes. Her vocals are soft but controlled, never overreaching, which somehow makes them hit harder. She doesn’t beg for your attention. She just holds it. Lyrically, this is where things get uncomfortably real. “Whisper Me A Lie” isn’t about being fooled by someone else. It’s about choosing the lie because the truth feels worse. That’s a way messier, more honest narrative than your typical alt-pop breakup track. There’s no villain here. Just memory, attachment, and the kind of emotional denial most people won’t admit to out loud. What makes this track stick is how self-aware it feels. LaPorta isn’t lost in the illusion. She knows exactly what she’s doing. That tension between awareness and attachment is what gives the song its weight. It’s not dramatic for the sake of it. It feels lived in. Production-wise, the atmosphere leans cinematic without going full soundtrack-core. Subtle textures build around the piano as the song progresses, but they never overshadow the emotional core. It feels like watching a slow-motion realization unfold rather than being hit with a big, obvious climax. For an artist with over 4 million streams and a background that includes early co-signs from Radio Disney and national TV appearances, LaPorta could easily lean into something more polished or formula-driven. Instead, she’s choosing restraint and emotional precision, which is honestly the smarter move in a genre that’s oversaturated with surface-level sadness. As the first release in a three-part monthly series, “Whisper Me A Lie” sets the tone like an opening chapter that doesn’t give you answers, just questions you’re not ready to deal with yet.

Alana Chirino isn’t trying to be the perfect pop girl; she’s way more interesting than that. On “Girlfriend,” she taps into one of those painfully relatable, lowkey chaotic situations no one wants to admit they’ve been in: when the vibe is too good… but the timing is completely off. Instead of turning it into some dramatic heartbreak anthem, she leans into the irony. The song lives in that awkward gray zone between fantasy and reality, where you’re fully aware something isn’t yours, but your brain keeps romanticizing it anyway. With sharp, self-aware lyricism and a tone that feels equal parts playful and slightly unhinged (in a good way), Chirino proves she knows exactly what she’s doing. This isn’t just indie pop, it’s personality-driven storytelling that feels like your group chat turned into a song. “Girlfriend” plays in that morally gray, ‘I know this is wrong, but it feels right’ space. Were you more interested in telling the truth of that feeling or poking fun at it? Honestly, both. I think the most interesting songs live in that in-between—where you’re self-aware enough to know something’s a bad idea, but not healed enough to stop. I wasn’t trying to justify the feeling, just tell the truth of it… and maybe laugh at myself a little in the process. If you can’t laugh at your own bad decisions, you’re probably about to make worse ones. You lean heavily into humor and self-awareness instead of dramatics. Do you think modern pop takes itself too seriously sometimes? Sometimes, yeah, although I feel like the tide has shifted. This new wave of female pop stars doesn’t seem to take itself quite as seriously, and I love that. It feels more reflective of how people actually experience things. For me, humor is part of honesty. Being silly and self-deprecating doesn’t make the feeling any less real; it just makes it more human. You can be a little heartbroken and still know you’re being a little embarrassing. That’s what makes it more relatable. Your content and your music feel really intertwined. How intentional is that strategy when building your identity as an artist? Very intentional, but it also comes pretty naturally. The way I show up in my content is the same voice that shows up in my music, observational, a little sarcastic, a little unhinged. I think people connect more when it feels consistent. If someone finds me through a silly video I made or a song, it should feel like the same person, just in a different context. There’s a very specific kind of delusion in romanticizing something unavailable. Why do you think people are so drawn to that dynamic? I think there’s something weirdly comforting about it. If something’s unavailable, you don’t actually have to deal with the reality of it; you just get to live in the fantasy you build in your head of what it could be. It’s a low-risk delusion. You get all the feelings without the real-life complications.  Artists tend to be dopamine-driven—we chase highs, intensity, and experiences that fuel creativity. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m unintentionally drawn to the unavailable just for the inspiration I get. I am the most productive when I’m a little heartbroken. If “Girlfriend” is part of a bigger body of work around modern dating, what patterns or themes are you starting to notice in how people connect right now? I’ve definitely noticed a pattern of self-awareness without action. People can name their patterns, joke about them, even turn them into memes—but that doesn’t always translate into change. Everyone knows how to self-diagnose, but we’re all still making the same mistakes. It’s like we’re all chasing the excitement and embracing the messiness. It’s that push and pull between knowing better and doing it anyway…it’s kind of my favorite subject to write about these days—it keeps showing up in my songs. Basically, we’re all very self-aware and still choosing chaos.

Atlanta producer Derrick P. continues to push instrumental hip-hop into new territory with his latest project, St. Mary’s Suite, a genre-blending release that merges boom-bap drums, orchestral strings, lo-fi textures, and Afro-Caribbean rhythms. Known for crafting atmospheric hip-hop that feels equally suited for headphones or the screen, Derrick has spent more than two decades developing a sound that crosses between music and visual storytelling. His work has included composing and supervising music for television projects like Dying to Be Famous: The Ryan Singleton Mystery and executive producing the reality series Made For This, giving his production style a distinctly cinematic edge. St. Mary’s Suite reflects that approach. Each track explores a different emotional and cultural influence, from the lo-fi mood of “Headspace” to the Afrobeat energy of “Tam Tam” and the Spanish-Caribbean tones of “Loca Luna.” One of the project’s standout moments, “11:45 on Peachtree,” layers upright bass and violin over classic boom bap drums, inspired by late-night drives through Atlanta. Rather than staying confined to one genre, Derrick treats the album like a series of sonic snapshots, moments, places, and emotions translated into sound. “St. Mary’s Suite is based in hip-hop but not limited to it,” he says. “It’s soulfully orchestral, Afro-Caribbean, lo-fi, and for anyone who loves soundtrack music.” The result is a project that sits somewhere between instrumental hip-hop and cinematic scoring, offering a soundtrack for late nights, deep thoughts, and city reflections. St. Mary’s Suite blends hip-hop, orchestral sounds, and Afro-Caribbean influences. What inspired the direction of this project? All those elements are from the music I love to listen to. As simple as it sounds, I make the music I love without regard to genre. That is reflected not only in St. Mary’s Suite but also in all my projects that I create for myself, as well as collaborations with other artists.  The track “11:45 on Peachtree” is tied to a specific place in Atlanta. How often do real-life locations influence your music? Very often. When I’m not working on a TV project, I tend to “score” moments or memories from my own life. On my 3 rd  project “People Ruin Beautiful Things”, I have a song titled “Miami Midnight” that plays the feel I had while shooting a music video in Miami 15 years ago. On that same project, I have a song called “Sunsets in Durban” that was influenced by the evenings I experienced being young and hanging out in Durban, South Africa, one December while on break in college. Likewise, “11:45 on Peachtree” is from a memory riding downtown Atlanta past the FOX theater, thinking how cool it would be to perform hip hop music with a live orchestra in that building. You’ve worked in both music production and television scoring. How has composing for visual media shaped your sound? For me I believe it happened the other way. I was always accused of having a sound that felt cinematic, even when artists that I produced didn’t understand it. I think it was a natural step for me to end up scoring films and TV shows. In the past, I would attempt to mask it. Time has allowed me to embrace it as my “sound”. It is my signature now.  Your music moves across multiple genres rather than staying in one lane. Is that something you’ve always leaned into creatively? It is. I was always a fan of music of all genres from Classical to Reggae and everything in between. Obviously, Hip Hop and Orchestral, as I love strings. As an artist, my goal was to always make what I like, and eventually, I would find an audience that would accept and support that.  After more than 20 years of making music, what continues to inspire you to create new instrumental projects? I believe I found new life in the ability to just put out what I love. I don’t have to wait for an artist, although I collaborate and produce for a few on their projects. The magic is in the creative process. I love to create it, let it go, and repeat. The end goal is that hopefully it connects, but the beauty of it is living in the journey.

For nearly two decades, The Maine have built a career the slow, intentional way, no gimmicks, no chasing algorithms, just consistency, connection, and a fanbase that actually shows up. Now, with their tenth studio album Joy Next Door arriving April 10, the band isn’t just celebrating longevity. They’re doubling down on evolution. Their latest single, Quiet Part Loud, leans into urgency, a reminder to say what matters while you still can. It’s intimate but anthemic, polished yet imperfect in all the right ways. And it sets the tone for what the band is calling their “green era,” a chapter defined by organic instrumentation and leaving the rough edges intact rather than sanding them down for playlist perfection. The timing feels intentional. The band is gearing up for their first headline tour in nearly two years, their biggest run to date, and a national television performance on The Kelly Clarkson Show, a milestone moment that reflects just how far they’ve come since their early Warped Tour days. Still, if you ask The Maine what matters most, it isn’t just the streams, the charts, or the stages. It’s the community. The 8123 Family. The shared language between band and audience has been growing since 2008. In this interview, The Maine open up about writing an album in sequence in a shuffle-first world, why imperfection feels radical right now, and what success actually means when you’ve already survived the industry’s trend cycles. You wrote and recorded Joy Next Door in sequential order. Which feels almost rebellious in the streaming era. What did that process unlock creatively that you wouldn’t have found if you’d jumped around track to track? Truthfully, we kind of jumped around a lot while working on this album. That being said, the big consistent through-line was an idea of treating it like a story. We wanted to think about the process in more of an abstract way, so we broke it into sections: beginning/genesis, middle/struggle, and end/resolution. I think it unlocked the ability to think about these songs in more of a linear way, and it helped navigate us when we were searching for the tone of some of these songs. Like a roadmap. John mentioned “Quiet Part Loud” came together quickly out of necessity, with the idea of saying what you need to while you still can. Was there a specific moment or realization that made time feel urgent for this record? I think there's a lot of fake urgency out there. There are a lot of "deadlines" and things that you think you have to do in some sort of imaginary timeline, especially in a band. For us, the only real urgency was that we had been working with this material for a while, and although we wanted it to be the best it possibly could be, at some point we had to put the pencils down. It's hard to call something done when there aren't any real consequences to keep working on it. That said, we definitely took our time on this one, and I think it's a better album because of it. This is your tenth studio album, and you’re entering what feels like the biggest headline run of your career. Does success feel different now than it did in the early Billboard-charting days? What does “winning” even look like for The Maine in 2026? The biggest win for our band is that we get to do this thing on our terms. At times, it's hard to know what should come next, but when I look at the community we've built and the quality of our shows over these last few years, I think we've landed in a really good sweet spot. The “green era” is tied to organic instrumentation and leaving imperfections intact. In a world obsessed with polish and perfection, why was it important to let some rough edges breathe on this album? For us, it was not only important but necessary. We always try to push ourselves to try something new that might push the boundary even further out for us. Nowadays, it's very easy to set up a template and record 10 or 12 songs very quickly. I've grown tired of the sheen that sits on top of modern rock records. We wanted to see what would happen if we peeled that layer back and tried to stay more true to what we sound like without having to run everything through the polishing machine. You’ve cultivated the 8123 Family for nearly two decades, and now you’re stepping back into a headline tour after almost two years. What do you think your audience understands about The Maine that casual listeners still miss? Under all of the things we put forth, we're just some guys doing something that brings us happiness. We're glad we've had the opportunity to share that with people who then share that with other people. That ethos emanates through all aspects of our band at this point. Anybody who's taken the time to dive into just that first layer has probably felt what I'm talking about. It's really amazing to look back at almost 20 years of this and see how connected all of us have become.