Some artists make songs. TT17 makes confessions, the kind that come from lived experience, the kind that hit you in the chest because they’re the truth, not the polished version of it. At only 22, the Los Angeles pop/rock artist has already built a reputation for turning pain into purpose, fusing hip-hop, emo, alternative rock, and pop into a sound that feels like a diary cracked open. With more than 2 million streams, multiple breakout albums, and features on major platforms, TT17 has positioned himself as a defining voice in the next wave of genre-fluid, emotionally raw music. But 2025 wasn’t just another year for him; it was the year he confronted his past head-on. It was the year he survived, healed, and finally told the story he almost didn’t live to share. That story became Suicidal Drive , the release chosen for BUZZMUSIC’s Best Independent Releases of 2025. More than a song, it’s a document of a turning point. A track that recreates the events of November 8, 2024, when he nearly ended his life. Visually, sonically, emotionally, the project is a blueprint of what it looks like to come back from the edge. TT17 released it exactly one year after his attempt, not because it was easy, but because he needed to prove something to himself: that he survived, that he grew, and that telling the truth would not break him. The fear was real. He worried about judgment, about losing fans, about disappointing the young people who look up to him. But the opposite happened. The story resonated. Listeners connected. One comment, “Don’t ever try to give up on me again,” became the kind of reminder that stays with an artist forever. It proved something he’d forgotten: vulnerability doesn’t weaken impact. It amplifies it. Outside of music, 2025 was filled with major life decisions and personal wins. TT17 dropped out of college, started a full-time job, and committed to a health transformation, losing 20 pounds in 10 weeks. It was the first year he didn’t obsess over goals, and ironically, it became his most successful and peaceful year to date. He rediscovered clarity, purpose, and himself. Going into 2026, he isn’t chasing charts, streams, or comparisons. His only goal is to keep telling the truth, to make another song that hits like “7 Years” or Suicidal Drive, something that makes listeners feel seen, understood, and less alone. And in a landscape full of artists trying to sound like someone else, TT17 leads with the one thing nobody can replicate: himself. Suicidal Drive is the release you chose for our Best Independent Artists of 2025 list, a song rooted in one of the darkest and most life-changing days of your life. What was the turning point that made you decide to turn that trauma into a story you were ready to share with the world? “Suicidal Drive” was by far the most emotional and inspiring song I have ever released. I wouldn’t say there was so much as a “turning point”; it was more of a personal healing journey. November 8, 2024, was the scariest day of my life, but it took until around August of 2025 for me to truly find myself and find my inner peace again. Once I did that, I started thinking about how my story can inspire others, and how no one knew the horrors I went through. Originally, I was going to call the song “November 8,” but I don’t think that would truly help my fans be able to relate to me and what really happened. While writing the song, I thought “Suicidal Drive” would be fitting, and once I was okay enough with myself to write and sing about that day, I decided I could be vulnerable and release it for the world to see. You’ve always been known for emotionally honest, genre-blending music, hip-hop, pop-rock, emo, and alternative. How does “Suicidal Drive” differ from previous personal tracks like “7 Years,” and what did you discover about yourself while making it? I feel like “Suicidal Drive” and “7 Years” are sibling tracks in a way. “Suicidal Drive” feels like “7 Years" older brother. When I dropped “7 Years,” I was able to get as deep and as vulnerable as I did because I had realistically no pressure. I didn’t have a fanbase whatsoever, and I didn’t have anyone who looked up to me. I felt like a nobody. “7 Years” was sort of a cry for help, without having anyone to cry to. I was a senior in high school, and this was during the COVID pandemic, so my school was fully online. I basically became the talk of my high school after dropping “7 Years,” and I went from nobody to a superstar. Fast forward 5 years, and the pressure switched. I have pressure on every song I release, because I have an audience really listening now. When I decided to create “Suicidal Drive” and get the music video in production, I knew I would have people watching. It had to be perfect. I think the main thing I discovered about myself is that I can do literally anything I set my mind to, and truly create anything I want to, while inspiring others. You said you were terrified to release this story publicly. What internal conversations did you have with yourself in the weeks leading up to pressing “publish,” and what did that moment ultimately mean for your healing? The biggest internal conversation I had to have with myself wasn’t so much being scared to release it, but more that I didn’t want people to treat me differently after the fact. I didn’t want people to get confused and think I was still feeling that way. The first person I told about the plan for the song was my Mom. I remember we were driving, and I brought it up to her about how I was feeling last year, and it was a lot for her to take in. I told her how nervous I was and how this release could literally make or break my whole image. How would I be viewed after the fact? I’ve tried so hard to become this person everyone looks up to, and now, will they stop looking up to me? My mom told me to remember where I started and remember who I make music for: myself. From that moment, I knew I wanted to release it. On November 8, 2025, at 8:15 pm, I was in a random parking lot, alone, almost having a panic attack when I hit “post.” However, everyone completely supported me, and I got the most love I’ve ever gotten on a release. You’ve become an inspiration for a lot of middle and high school students over the past few years. When sharing something this personal, did you feel a pressure to “be strong,” or did releasing the truth shift your understanding of what strength actually looks like? I definitely felt like I had to keep this image of being strong, especially now that I am 22 years old. However, I think I have always thought of being “strong” as holding in and hiding your emotions. It took a while, but I realized, being “strong” is having the courage to do what no one else will. Being “strong” is truly being confident enough in yourself to get out of your comfort zone. That is being strong, and that is exactly what I did with “Suicidal Drive.” After dropping out of college, starting a full-time job, and focusing on your health, you said 2025 became the clearest year of your life. How did stepping back from music help you become a better artist once you returned to it? Stepping back from putting 100% of my focus into music helped me grow tremendously as an individual. I have a new understanding of what it means to work hard and work towards something. Dropping out of college and going into the “adult world” really matured me more than I was ready for, and I truly think that is why I was able to put together such a great catalog of music for 2025. This year was truly the clearest year of my life, and I’m ready to make 2026’s vision even clearer. You’ve talked about not wanting strict goals for 2026 because letting go brought your biggest year yet. What does creative freedom look like for you right now, and what kind of song do you feel yourself moving toward next? My creative freedom is the same as it has always been, the only difference being, now I can actually use my creative freedom and create what I want with it. 2 years ago, I would never have been able to put out such a compelling and inspiring video as “Suicidal Drive” . I feel like I want my next “huge” drop to be a closure of that song. Closing my past depression out of my life for good, a final part to the trilogy of “7 Years” and “Suicidal Drive.” You give powerful advice about not copying idols and being your own blueprint. What moment in your career taught you the importance of trusting your individuality, especially in a genre where comparisons are constant? I think the biggest moment in my career that taught me to trust my own individuality was after I released “Heartbreak Hotel” in 2023. A lot of people compared me to Juice WRLD on that track, and as much as I love being compared to my idol, I want to make my own lane. I want to be TT17, not anyone else.

Some albums are sonic statements. Sarah Shafey ’s Paper Bag Princess is a full-on declaration of war on stereotypes, on conformity, on the exhausting expectations women carry into every room. Released in 2025, the project marks a radical shift for the LA-based, Canadian-Egyptian artist: stepping away from the classical piano roots that defined her earlier work and stepping directly into the flames of grunge, distortion, and pure, unfiltered rebellion. Shafey didn’t just write this record; she fought for it. She picked up the guitar, leaned into the grit, and used a historically masculine space to reclaim her voice on her own terms. The album, co-produced with heavy-hitters Kyle Ashbourne and Grammy/JUNO talent Michael Hanson, pulls from the spirit of the Robert Munsch book that inspired its name. But this isn’t a retelling. It’s a transformation. A grown woman’s reclamation of agency. A refusal to be shrunk, judged, or packaged into palatable boxes. If there’s one track that embodies this ethos, “New World Disorder” stands tall: a fiery call to burn down old narratives and build something truer from the ashes. 2025 was a year of personal and professional shifts for Shafey, relocating from Toronto to Los Angeles, taking on national leadership roles in equity and inclusion for women in tech, and fearlessly expanding her creative world. But The Paper Bag Princess feels like the anchor: the album where she stepped fully into herself. It’s loud. It’s vulnerable. It’s disruptive in all the right ways. And as she heads into 2026, preparing a new EP blending Futuresynth, Metal, and Grunge, planning to storm West Coast stages, and forming new partnerships, the energy is clear: this is an artist done with compromise. An artist building her world brick by brick. An artist making noise with purpose. For anyone who’s ever felt underestimated, boxed in, or told to tone it down—Sarah Shafey made this record for you. 2025 marked a huge shift for you. From relocating to LA to releasing The Paper Bag Princess. What personal experiences from this year shaped the energy of the album the most? This past year brought a significant shift toward self-acceptance and free expression. Relocating provided the final necessary push. Releasing The Paper Bag Princess was a bold statement of my identity, marking my complete creative and personal sovereignty. I felt more bold and free at the onset of 2025; a change you can hear in the album. Looking back, what was the defining 2025 moment that pushed you toward grunge as the vehicle for your message of rebellion and self-worth? The defining moment was when I chose to actively silence the mental noise and clutter that was stifling me. That happened pretty early on in the year. I use grunge as the vehicle because channeling the guitar's energy and vocal prowess provides the immediate release I need to achieve that core sense of peace. This peace is the source of a more effective rebellion, far beyond disorganized rage. You led several national equity and inclusion events for women in tech in 2025. How did that work fuel your confidence and perspective while creating this record? I'm so glad you asked; the parallels between parity for women in music and women in STEM are impossible to ignore. My work advocating for women in tech, focusing on their confidence and self-advocacy, directly fueled my perspective for the record. This cross-industry passion translated into powerful lyrics that are all about standing up for yourself, no matter the field. How did the move from Toronto to LA in September 2025 affect your mindset, your sound, or the way you see yourself as an artist entering a new era? 100% new era energy! Relocating to LA was a successful mission, driven by the desire for access to this city's intense creative power. I've started to set the groundwork to make magic in 2026, which ensures a massive level up to the next, hyper-charged version of my grunge-electronic sound. I am excited. You’ve called this album a declaration of independence. What part of yourself were you finally ready to unleash that past projects didn’t showcase? This declaration of independence is simply the consequence of getting older, wiser, and clearer on my purpose. I no longer have the patience for hiding. Where past projects used more lyrical riddles, I am now more committed to approaching my lyrics and sound with candor. You’re merging Futuresynth, Grunge, and Metal for your next EP. What emotional world are you trying to build with that fusion? Neon Dreams. 80s Night Drive Escapism. Femme Fatale Power. Big Hair. Surf Waves. Zero Subtlety. If another woman artist felt boxed in, underestimated, or stripped of her narrative, what truth would you want her to take from The Paper Bag Princess? Let being underestimated become your fuel. Your story, your truth, and your voice are the only authority that matters.

Most jazz albums do not begin with violence. Cody Steinmann did. The Minneapolis-based guitarist, composer, and improviser is not interested in turning pain into a mythologised origin story for an artist. Stray Bullet Blues  is a fully instrumental body of work shaped by something far more immediate. A violent moment that shattered any illusion of safety and forced everything into sharp focus. On October 7, 2023, a stray bullet tore through Steinmann’s home. No one was physically harmed, but the psychological impact lingered. Instead of retreating inward, Steinmann picked up his guitar and let the emotion speak for itself. What emerged is a volatile blend of jazz, blues, metal, and rock that mirrors the unpredictability of trauma. The album moves like a sequence of emotional states. It opens with “I Feel Like We’re Bleeding,” a slow-burning eruption that captures shock and hyper awareness. That unease escalates on “I Feel Like We’re Dying,” an eight-minute spiral through fear, adrenaline, and mental overload. By the time the title track “Stray Bullet Blues” arrives, the album begins to reclaim the moment rather than relive it. “Who Am I” leans into vulnerability, using restraint and space as emotional tools. Tracks like “Fleeting Moments” and “Patience And Understanding” soften the edges without losing weight, tracing a gradual return to clarity. The record closes with “They Are You” and its companion track, reinforcing the project’s core message of empathy and connection when it feels hardest to reach out. Steinmann assembled a formidable lineup to carry that weight. JD Allen on tenor sax, Solomon Parham on trumpet, Chris Bates on bass, and Abinnet Berhanu on drums all bring restraint, fire, and intention. The entire album was recorded in six hours. No overdubs. No polish. Just five musicians responding to the same emotional current in real time. Despite its intensity, Stray Bullet Blues  is rooted in forgiveness and empathy. It does not explain itself or soften its edges. It simply tells the truth, without words, in a language that cuts deeper than explanation. This is not a record designed to comfort. It is designed to wake you up and maybe help you feel again. That moment the bullet entered your home, how did the shock settle into music instead of silence? At what point did you know this experience had to become a full album? I think the next day is when it hit me. I didn’t know how to process it. I was in such shock as to what happened and how much damage a single stray bullet could do. I felt blessed, because it could have been much worse. But I didn’t really have words to describe how I felt. I just knew I had a yearning for connection at that point. All I could really feel was energy and it came to me as music. I was almost a sort of bystander in the whole process.  This project pulls from jazz, metal, blues, rock, and improvisation in a way that feels almost volatile. How did the emotional state you were in shape the sonics of each track? I’ve always been influenced by a wide variety of music. I never really saw the difference between genres, they’ve always been music to me. I did feel strongly about certain types of music at certain times, but no matter what “mask” I put on as a kid I actually did enjoy all styles of music. I’m neurodivergent, so I have a different angle on all of this. The volatility probably comes from the loops of emotions I felt throughout the coming weeks and months after the event. It was truly an emotional rollercoaster for me. Each of the tracks represents a different emotional state somewhere in that cycle.  You recorded this entire album in six hours with an elite lineup. What did that session feel like? Were you all tapping into the same emotional current, or did each musician interpret the moment differently?  Yes, it was great! I did a lot of learning making this record. It felt intense, I feel we were all on edge due to the times we’re living in. Everyone absolutely crushed it though. We all knew the story and they were in communication with me during or shortly after the event, so I think that energy permeated the room. We all knew we only had one day in the studio to make it happen too, so we were very focused.   You’ve said you hope this album teaches people empathy and forgiveness. What part of the creative process pushed your own understanding of those concepts the most? Yes I do hope the album teaches people to empathize with one another and helps us to forgive each other and ourselves. I feel like we’re all too hard on one another. The creative process taught me how to forgive people, and how to truly let go. It led me to James Baldwin interviews that affirmed my perspective and also taught me to see others more deeply as part of myself too. Which in turn led me to having a better and more kind relationship with myself. I had a lot of hate in me after this, I learned to let it go completely. I learned all safety is an illusion. I had a clearer idea in my mind of how to hold others accountable and forgive, while not socially isolating them.  Your work is always pushing genre boundaries, but this album feels like a deeper evolution. After Stray Bullet Blues, what does “jazz” even mean to you now? I don’t know, I honestly don’t think about it much. Jazz is a four letter word. Depending on the context, to me, it refers to a particular approach to articulation, rhythm, form, phrasing and space that is inherent in the tradition of Black American Music. More personally, I agree with Wayne Shorter that Jazz means “I Dare You”. I believe what I enjoy about this music the most is the swing and the freedom. I’m eternally grateful that I get to participate in creating and making the music I do today. I hope others will continue to step out without a net and put their work out there.

James Artissen has never moved like someone chasing a moment. He builds momentum. Grammy-nominated, Queens-born, and deeply grounded in both the technical and emotional sides of music, Artissen’s career reads less like a highlight reel and more like a deliberate climb. From years spent behind the scenes with major names in R&B and hip hop to fully stepping into his own artistry, his evolution has been patient, intentional, and real. Raised between New York and Atlanta, Artissen absorbed the rhythm of both cities. You can hear it in his work. The grit. The polish. The soul. The restraint. His background as a producer and audio engineer shows in every decision. Nothing feels accidental. Nothing feels rushed. That clarity is exactly why his latest single, “Down 4 Whatever” with Bigg Baggz, lands with quiet confidence. The track lives in a late-night headspace where desire, trust, and street loyalty overlap. It is smooth without being soft and confident without being loud. James opens the song with melodic ease, gliding over a slow-burning trap R&B beat built on deep 808s, crisp hi hats, and a smoky, cinematic mood. The intimacy feels intentional, never forced. Bigg Baggz enters with a verse that feels lived in. No gimmicks. No over explanation. Just presence. The chemistry between the two artists feels natural, like they operate by the same unspoken code. This is not a surface-level collaboration. It sounds rooted in mutual respect. Lyrically, “Down 4 Whatever” moves past surface attraction. It centers discretion, loyalty, and choosing someone who understands your world without needing context. A connection that does not need to be public to hold weight. The record signals a clear shift for Artissen toward mood, control, and long-term vision, away from chasing moments. After years of critical acclaim, charting releases, and collaborations with icons like Whodini, Raphael Saadiq, and Goodie Mob, Artissen is now fully operating on his own terms. With the launch of his label imprint Humble Sound Records in partnership with Sony Orchard and a debut album set for 2026, “Down 4 Whatever” feels like a quiet statement. Not a comeback. Not a reinvention. Just the next chapter. “Down 4 Whatever” feels more restrained and atmospheric than some of your past work. What pushed you toward this sound? I have been experimenting with new styles, and sound for my audience to grow with me alongside the change of my brand. This also shows the range, and versatility of who I am as an artist while going through my new journey. It feels great.  You’ve spent years behind the scenes as a producer and engineer. How does that technical background shape how you approach your own records? It's everything because I know how a record is supposed to not only sound like, but feel like. I pour all my experiences, and knowledge into my own to create masterpieces along the way. You really can't have a great piece of work without the elements of a producer, writer or an engineer. The chemistry with Bigg Baggz feels effortless. What made this collaboration feel like the right fit? I'm always looking for who's up next, and those who I feel would compliment my sound. Bigg Baggz is one of those artists who has been quite easy to work with, and DFW is the first of many collaborations with us.  Loyalty and discretion are big themes on this track. How much of that comes from personal experience versus storytelling? The subject matter is very much personal for us because we seek loyalty in any situation from those we hold dear to us. The song is just a small depiction of that. Of course here, and there a good storyline helps sell the concept, but most of my lyrics are my real experiences. With your debut album coming in 2026, what mindset are you in right now as an artist and label owner? Right now my mind is set on delivering an amazing groundbreaking body of work. Something that keeps you coming back to listen, and help you understand who James Artissen really is. As a label owner I'm proud that I have achieved the opportunity to launch my own imprint, and help other artists achieve their goals as well. Humble Sound Records is a home for all creatives.

Coming together to emphasize Black History Month rightfully, American singer-songwriter James Artissen  teams up with House Dance singer Robin S  to release the latest single, “See It My Way.” Written and produced by James Artissen, Ronell Sessoms, and Robin S, “See It My Way” is the lead single, pulling us into the grooves of this dark, psychedelic, disco-meets-synth-pop track. It’s immediately apparent that the passion of James Artissen exceeds our expectations. Liveliness in the instrumentation creates a vibrant dynamic between the vocal layers that accompany these magical components. When you tune into the depth of the words professed, you latch onto this anthem that circles around manifestation, self-confidence, and a desire for the best life has to offer. As each note whisks us into this sonic beam of positivity, James Artissen releases his new musical style into the world for the first time. Playing into his quintessence of uplifting himself and those around him, “See It My Way” radiates Black excellence. Whether it’s Black History Month or any day of the year, this is the pride and hunger we love to see from Black creatives as they raise their voices and share a rich narrative you can’t help but dive into. This collaboration between you and Robin S resonates with us in such a powerful way. What moment or story inspired you to create such an upbeat record filled with radiance? I am happy you guys enjoyed the song. This one is very special to me because I wanted to display a positive message in a powerful way that can be translated through dance music. The moral of the song is to outline the features of Manifestation and self-belief in yourself to continue going in life. I have been working with Robin S for some years now, and we are like family. I am blessed and honored to have her a part of this masterpiece we have created. What was it like working with Robin S to bring "See It My Way" to life? How did this collaboration come to be? Robin is a sister. We have worked together for quite some time. We created this record about two years ago and wanted to release it at the right time. We both have been through many things in our lives, so music is our therapy. How long did it take you to write this piece? Could you please share a glimpse of the creative process? It really didn't take long because we already knew what to say. I remember us being in the studio talking about a situation with someone we both knew, and it made us think about how we needed to rise above all negativity. I gave her the concept for the chorus, in which the vocals needed to match the production's energy. Once I told her that she did two takes, and the rest is history. Since you've taken on a new style, what similarities and differences have you found in your creative process? To me, it really isn't about a new style. It's just more creativity that I want to express to my fans. They are growing with me as much as I am growing creatively, which is amazing. What's next for you? So many projects are in progress. My debut album, new singles, collaborations, television/film projects, and touring.

Alt R&B is drowning in pretty lies right now. Vibes over substance. Aesthetic over honesty. Gianna Alessi is not here for that. On “It’s Only Heaven,” she gently but firmly pulls the curtain back on romance built on projection, flattery, and emotional smoke screens. The track floats in on sparkly keys and warm guitar lines, but do not confuse softness for weakness. Gianna’s honeyed vocals feel controlled, intentional, and emotionally awake. She sings like someone who has already done the self-reflection and is now watching someone else struggle to keep up. That quiet confidence is the song’s real power. Produced by Gavi Grodsky, the groove is dreamy but grounded. Stacked vocals swirl without suffocating the mix, giving the song room to breathe. Daniel Neiman’s mix and Dan Millice’s mastering keep everything lush without slipping into background music territory. This is headphone music that still hits emotionally, not sonic wallpaper. Lyrically, “It’s Only Heaven” questions why we romanticize connections that never actually see us. Gianna pushes back against love that sounds good but feels empty. She is not angry. She is awake. That distinction matters. The song lives in the tension between wanting to be desired and needing to be understood. As the second single from her upcoming EP Soft n’ Lush , this track signals a project rooted in emotional presence, not algorithm chasing. In a culture addicted to speed and surface-level intimacy, Gianna Alessi is choosing depth. That choice alone makes her one to watch.

Blackstate is not here to babysit anyone’s ego. With “#FollowMe,” Filip Tasevski-Fitz throws influencer culture into a blender and hits max speed, serving up an EDM track that feels like a glitchy, neon meltdown in real time. This is the soundtrack for every moment you open your phone and instantly regret it, but still keep scrolling like a hostage. The man spent two decades tearing up hardcore punk stages, and that chaotic DNA is all over this track. It is unhinged in a way EDM wishes it were more often. The production hits like a boss-level video game you were not ready for. Hyperactive synths, grinding drops, and a rhythm that never sits still. The whole track feels like it is daring you to keep up. Blackstate blends humor with panic, critique with adrenaline, and the result is honestly addictive. This is not a passive listen. This is a full-body experience that grabs you by the face and shouts, “Look at what we’ve become.” Vocally, Tasevski-Fitz leans into the parody hard. He fully commits to the influencer character, which makes the whole thing hit twice as hard. He captures the hollow confidence, the compulsive need for validation, and the manic energy of someone “living their best life” as they slowly evaporate offscreen. His delivery is sharp enough to cut through the EDM chaos, and every line lands like a jab at anyone who has ever faked a perfect life for content, which is basically all of us at this point. The music video takes the concept and runs laps with it. Livestream rooms with cheap props, podcast setups for people with nothing to say, fake plants doing their best to look alive, ring lights frying pupils into oblivion. He exposes the smoke and mirrors behind the illusion, then jumps right into it himself. Once he puts on that cheetah print coat, he becomes the monster he is mocking, which is the point. In a plastic world, authenticity has no chance. “#FollowMe” is for anyone who feels suffocated by the digital circus but still cannot look away. Blackstate weaponizes EDM to call out the absurdity of the era, and the result is loud, clever, and absolutely unforgettable. When you stepped into the influencer persona for “#FollowMe,” what part of that character felt uncomfortably close to real life? What felt uncomfortably close was the instinct to perform - to turn even criticism into content. We live in an age of constant internet performance, and even when you think you’re resisting it, you’re still playing a role. Even parody becomes performative. Stepping into that character forced me to confront how easily I slip into self-curation without noticing. Real life  still exists, of course - but it’s constantly distorted by algorithms and systems designed to shape behavior. Hardcore punk and EDM are not exactly neighbors. What element from your punk background shaped the chaos in this track? Hardcore punk is still my backbone. The form evolved, the attitude didn’t. Sonically, I’ve moved forward, but the core messages remain intact. Seeing society from the outside is one of the blessings of punk. The video exposes the fakery behind content creation. What moment during filming made you think, “Yeah, this is exactly how ridiculous it actually is”? The process of writing the script and gathering inspiration for it was quite long - it took more than a year. One documentary that influenced me a lot was “Fake Famous”, which clearly shows that being an influencer isn’t actually that easy. It’s demanding, dedicated work that requires significant effort and energy. In any case, the point is that people want fame simply because they desire it. Most of them have no substantial message to convey - no message aimed at the common good, at sharing something useful or humane. They lack empathy and compassion toward their own kind, the planet, and animals. They become human billboards, part of a capitalist machinery, selling their own persona to the algorithm. I think many people are lost. And those who truly do have something to say (artists, educators, intellectuals…) are overshadowed by the stupidity of these other ones. What a time to be alive. Your production style leans into sensory overload. What is one sound or texture in “#FollowMe” that almost felt too unhinged but ended up being essential? There are a couple of moments where the piece clearly crosses a line and doesn’t apologize. At the time, it felt almost too unhinged, but the second you make it comfortable, it stops saying anything. For me, overload is the language of the work - it’s how the idea communicates. The video mirrors the mental state of the reality it’s responding to. If listeners walk away from this track questioning their own online habits, what conversation do you hope they start having with themselves? Be more real. Get off the internet (for a while). Live your life. Use your (online) powers for good. Be authentic. Enjoy life. I enjoyed this interview in particular. Thank you for these great questions and for letting me share my thoughts.

Most eighth graders are worried about homework, acne, or whether their crush noticed them. Mane Thompson is out here delivering a country rock performance with the emotional weight of someone who has lived through three chapters of heartbreak. “Rewrite The Past” proves he is not dabbling in music. He is throwing himself into it with a maturity that feels almost unreal. From the jump, Thompson’s voice lands like gravel dipped in honey. It is rough in the right places, warm when it needs to be, and confident in a way that makes you double take his age. He does not sidestep the pain in the lyrics. He charges straight into it. There is a growl in his delivery that feels earned, not imitated, and it gives the regret-filled storyline a surprising level of believability. His performance does not feel like a kid acting out heartbreak. It feels like an artist channeling something deeper. The Racing Pulses back him with production that has no interest in sitting politely behind the vocals. The bassline is rubbery and full of swagger. The guitars punch with classic rock impulse. The drum crashes land like emotional warnings. Together, they build a sound that belongs on open highways, faded boardwalks, summer fairs, and every place people go when they need to think about the choices they cannot undo. It is country storytelling fused with indie garage grit, and the combination hits harder than expected. The live performance pushes everything into overdrive. Filmed at the Mead Witter Foundation Concert Hall, the video captures real chemistry between Thompson and the band. No awkwardness. No hesitation. Just pure energy. Thompson takes command of the stage like he was born there, feeding off the crowd and locking in with a confidence that should not be possible for someone his age. Culturally, this track lands at a time when country music needs more genre bending and more young voices refusing to stay in preset lanes. The collaboration feels real, not engineered. Thompson shows potential that is impossible to ignore. And the replay value is ridiculous. It is catchy, cathartic, and built for looping on long drives. When you performed “Rewrite The Past” live, what part of the story hit you the hardest in real time? When I listen to the song “Rewrite The Past,” whether I'm performing it or just listening… What hit me the hardest in real time would be: “If I could rewrite the Past, I would listen to you like a songbird.” That reason being… I hear it, I feel it; it can change during different times. Different people have different ways of listening to a “songbird,” & that can help them. For me, I don’t actually listen to a songbird, but I wish I could go back in time and fix some mistakes. For example, if I could rewrite the past.. I’d go back and sing the song that my Aunt Juanita requested before she died. Your vocals have a grit that feels way beyond your age. What mindset helps you tap into that intensity when recording? My music taste is very different for my age! That’s what makes me a good singer. Growing up, I was REALLY inspired by Michael Jackson - From his dances, his walk, the way he talked, his style, his vocal changes, and everything! I wanted to be Michael Jackson when I was younger. I grew up listening to Michael Jackson, Chris Stapleton, Brooks & Dunn, The Temptations, Al Green (with my Dad), Alan Jackson (with my Mom), etc. If you combine all of those inspirations into one. My music taste varies, I love great lyrics like J. Cole or Alan Jackson’s powerful storytelling, it’s what makes me! Working with The Racing Pulses is a cross-generational creative leap. What surprised you most about blending your worlds? I don’t think I was surprised by the age gap or anything about our different worlds! I was always told I had an “Old Soul” and an older look. So, for me, the goal was to make a song that everybody could relate to. Every song I love to listen to has meaning; I wouldn’t want to listen to a song with no message. Rewrite the Past has a powerful message that people can relate to. I could relate; The Racing Pulses could relate; my parents could relate; and others could relate.   In the live video, there is a moment you fully lock in. What changed in your head or heart right then? A lot of times, it takes me a minute to realize what I’m doing. I’m chasing a dream of mine, I’m doing what I LOVE to do, so I enjoy myself. After a couple of minutes of me singing, I realize what it took to get here, what led me to sing this song with The Racing Pulses, the feelings I broke, the mistakes I made, and all the obstacles I faced to get to this moment. I get reminded of my purpose. I believe my purpose is to sing, but what am I doing it for besides “purpose”?Then I realize all of those things that helped build Mane Thompson. Country and garage rock have totally different textures. What detail in the arrangement convinced you that this fusion actually worked? I personally think a good song is a good song for one. I think as long as you can make something catchy, lyrically good, and something that can almost please everybody, you’ll be fine. Those are some of the reasons my band, The Racing Pulse, did so great together. We both had similar goals but different backgrounds, and it worked. I think a Classical music and Punk Rock artist could collaborate on a song. They have 2 completely different sounds, but both have dedicated fan bases. We saw a project where all different artists came together for one song - “We Are The World” written by Michael Jackson. That was so many artists from different genres in one.

When you look at artists who use music as a form of self-therapy, It’sJustVon stands out as someone who doesn’t just write songs, he documents chapters. Ever since he released his debut album welcome to the state of denial in 2020, his artistry has been rooted in honesty, emotional depth, and the willingness to confront the parts of life that most people avoid. What makes his story even more layered is his second musical identity, LLV, short for Lost Love, a name he uses when the art demands a darker lens, a different tone, or a more vulnerable headspace. Two identities, one storyteller, and a growing discography that reflects real human struggle. 2025 became an important year for Von because it marked a shift from internal battles to outward conversation. His single “Someway Somehow,” chosen for BUZZMUSIC’s Best Independent Artists of 2025, is a track that channels his personal reflections on mental health into something relatable for anyone who’s ever carried pain in silence. The song is a reminder that healing isn’t linear, and that resilience doesn’t always look loud, sometimes it’s just surviving one more day, one more moment. The track’s calm intensity and message show exactly why Von’s voice matters in a genre where vulnerability is often treated like a risk. But this year wasn’t defined by music alone. Outside the studio, Von stacked milestone after milestone: graduating from college with a BA, earning his Class A CDL, managing at three major companies, and stepping into a project manager role for a robotics company, traveling, learning, and leveling up professionally. These real-world achievements mirror his internal growth. They show a version of Von who isn’t just writing through pain, but actively building a life outside of it. What comes next feels like a new era. With “Leaving the State of Denial” on the horizon, Von is preparing to expand the narrative he started years ago, shifting from survival to evolution, from reflection to forward motion. And whether it’s through It’sJustVon or LLV, one thing is clear: his music remains rooted in honesty, faith, and the belief that timing — God’s timing — is everything. You’ve released music under both It’sJustVon and LLV, two identities that tap into different emotional spaces. How do you decide which parts of your story belong to which artist name, and what does each alter-ego represent for you creatively? ItsJustVon is who I was, and is leaving the state of denial. My last song, “You Read My Mind” on my album, says “...what? You never met LLV.” So, to answer your question, how do I decide which parts of my story belong to which artist name? ItsJustVon is heartbroken by what happened to him, but LLV is ready to move on. My last release under LLV should have been ItsjustVon, but it just didn’t feel right. LLV is ready to move on, but in his recent release alone, he has not made that leap, which is why it didn’t make the album. ItsJustVon waited years after “Welcome to the State of Denia” to reveal why the breakup occurred on leaving the state of denial, but knew the whole time. LLV stands for lost love forgot the s.. forgot the t… {lost} forgot the o… forgot the e{love}. LLV is ready to move on, making upbeat music to have fun with. ItsJustVon makes hip hop storytelling. I honestly want to say that after leaving the state of denial itsJustVon is finished, but after so many people who have heard my album before its release, it's a high possibility ItsJustVon returns to make music that hits home. “Someway Somehow” is all about mental health and the unseen battles people carry. When you were writing it, what moment or realization pushed you to speak openly about what you were going through? Honestly, I just felt free to share. Writing to me feels free; I just write it out on my cell phone, then record it. The second verse really comes to mind when you ask that question. I have nothing to hide; the unseen battles I, as well as many others, fight every day. I feel obligated with all my accomplishments to share what I have experienced. As I always say, “you're not alone,” let's go, “ the sky is the limit. “ I was a robotics project manager. Amazon area manager. Etc. You’ve talked about wanting your music to spark conversations around emotional struggle, resilience, and healing. What’s one thing you wish more people understood about mental health, especially within hip-hop and R&B? Honestly, we should not look to musicians for life advice. I have read over a hundred books, the majority on business, self-help, and religion. But musicians make music for entertainment for the most part. When it comes to mental health, I honestly believe you should be your own doctor in a way. Decide what is and what is not working for you. Keep it going to be the best version of yourself as possible.  You’ve had a big year outside of music: graduating from college, earning your CDL, and stepping into project management and robotics. How have those real-life responsibilities and wins shaped the way you write, think, and create? Honestly, I just got a chance to wear different hats. I tell people who have met me, “everybody knows Von from Amazon. It's really the best place to work; people high up really care about what you think and your views toward making the organization a better place. Robotics really wasn’t for me, not to bash another company, but trust me, I don’t mind doing that either lol. Amazon has been the #1 company in the world, and I’m proud to say I started as a temp and worked my way up to Manager. I have a CDL and love my relaxing occupation. I think as time progresses, it will shape my music currently. I’m glad to have finished leaving the state of denial.  You mentioned “Just Me and the Studio” as a possible inclusion for Best Of 2025 if the timing works. What kind of energy or message does that unreleased track carry, and how does it continue the story you’re telling this year? Just me and the studio just feels right. The calmness after the storm, the energy I feel it brings.  It brings a message of being alone and being alone is ok. I’m working alone by choice, single by choice, looking for the right people to allow in my life. This year sets the table for the next guest llv. Get ready for him, but also, if he is too much to take, you can always message me and say we miss ItsJustVon. You dropped two tracks in 2025 “Someway Somehow” and LLV’s “alone.” When you look at both, what do they say about where you are emotionally and artistically compared to when you first released “welcome to the state of denial” back in 2020? ItsJustVon welcome to the state of denial, brings attention to, and my ex-girlfriend being on a break to officially breaking up. Leaving the state of denial is the raw, uncut reason why the relationship ending begins the album with “hurt my soul,” hopefully something everyone enjoys. With the album over, I look forward to the next person I date. Emotionally free as well as artistically free. I can make whatever kind of music I like. A new chapter is beginning, and I hope my fans are next to me to read what’s about to be written.  Heading into 2026 with “Leaving the State of Denial” on the horizon, what shift do you feel happening inside yourself? What do you want this next chapter to reveal about you as both a person and an artist? Get ready for LLV! All I can say.

Sweet Relief Musicians Fund is doing what it does best: showing up for the people who built the culture. The nonprofit has announced its annual benefit concert for February 21 at the Masonic Auditorium in San Francisco, this time honoring blues icon Taj Mahal, a living legend whose influence stretches far beyond the genre he helped redefine. The lineup is stacked in a way that feels intentional, not nostalgic-for-nostalgia’s sake. Confirmed performers include Van Morrison, Stevie Van Zandt, George Thorogood, Mike Campbell, Patty Griffin, Jim Lauderdale, Will Hoge, Joe Henry, Ruby Amanfu, Bobby Rush, Trombone Shorty Kids, and Taj Mahal himself, with special guests and additional artists still to be announced. Tickets go on sale Friday, December 19 . This isn’t just a tribute concert. It’s a statement. Taj Mahal’s career spans more than five decades, but his relevance hasn’t faded with time. Emerging in the late 1960s, he expanded the blues by weaving in Caribbean, African, Hawaiian, and Latin influences long before “genre fusion” became an industry buzzword. Albums like Taj Mahal and The Natch’l Blues didn’t just preserve tradition, they stretched it, creating a global, joyful approach to roots music that still resonates today. His influence can be heard everywhere, whether artists know it or not. “Thrilled to be honored by Sweet Relief and to celebrate with good feeling music,” Taj Mahal shared. “Thank you Sweet Relief for all that you do and for bringing us together.” For Sweet Relief, the night marks both a celebration and a mission-critical fundraiser. Executive Director Aric Steinberg called the event “long overdue” and emphasized its deeper purpose. “This will be a special show indeed, and is also a critical fundraiser for our music community in need of emergency financial assistance for physical or mental health care,” Steinberg said. “More artists will be announced in the coming weeks, and there are always a few surprises.” The concert follows Sweet Relief’s 2025 tribute to Joan Baez, which featured performances by Bonnie Raitt, Emmylou Harris, Lucinda Williams, Margo Price, Tom Morello, and more. If that event proved anything, it’s that Sweet Relief understands how to honor a legacy without turning it into a museum piece. Beyond the stage, Sweet Relief Musicians Fund continues to be a lifeline for career musicians and industry professionals, providing financial assistance for medical care, insurance, housing, food, utilities, and other essential living expenses. In an industry that often abandons its artists once the spotlight dims, Sweet Relief fills a gap the system refuses to acknowledge. February 21 won’t just be a concert. It’ll be a reminder of why music matters, who built it, and why taking care of artists should never be optional.