After Dark Magazine (Redesign)

Photograph @ Kompass Music Group

Shortly after, they and their brother started working on music together in FL Studio, which gave them experience recording their voice and being creative with writing music. Then came their first big music festival at the age of 15, and to this day it has shaped their love for electronic music. At the time, it was the most future forward experience in their life other than seeing their idol Lady Gaga, but this was all just the beginning for the vision of the Wreckno project.“Once I saw Gaga in the performance realm and then the craziness that is electronic music, I was like, ‘I wanna do both of those things.’”

With the launch of Wreckno, Wisniski quickly became known for their catchy pop and bass music mashups. It took a tremendous amount of hustle, as well as countless shows played for minimal pay, but they began to gain a level of notoriety that would bring them the most important opportunities of their career.

“I think that one of the things that people have been able to connect with this project has been related to the fact that I really love pop culture and music,” said Wreckno.

© Photo by Jonathan Humphrey

After nearly a year of touring, hard work, and net-working, Wreckno got the opportunity of a lifetime to meet one of his biggest inspirations, GRiZ. Having attended the CO-artist’s shows since they were 16, it was a surreal moment to chat with him, let alone collaborate.

For Wisniski, this first interaction with an idol of theirs really solidified what they were going for and helped people realize the Wreckno project is different from what they might have perceived early on. Before the pandemic shutdown, they were able to release their collab EP with Super Future, Hypernatural, and kick off the first few dates on their tour, including a slot on the lineup at Okeechobee Music Festival. Their rise in popularity continued to grow, but truly transcended when they were asked to be the vocalist for GRIZ’S track, “Medusa.”

Despite having one of their biggest performances to date—a pool party set slot at Deja Voom— cancelled, the track elevated them to even new heights.

“My silver lining for 2020 was that people wanted that gay pool party with me and Griz [at Deja Voom] so bad,” said Wreckno.

“I think that Grant was like, “Hey, let’s make something cool because they couldn’t get that big gay party.

Fast forward almost one full year since the release of the iconic track, and Wisniski continues to see theafter effects in his personal career. What the young producer has come to appreciate the most—even over their continued success—is the ability to be

a role model and inspire their fans. Wisniski recalls queer icons, such as Mykki Blanco, Cakes Da Killa, and Brooke Candy, that they were able to look up to growing up. They were able to compare their relationship with these artists and how their music affected them when they were young to the inspiration and representation they are now offering to young fans today with their own music.

“Gaga was the mainstream gay icon, but there was also all these amazing queer artists that have existed for so long,” Wreckno said. “As a 16-year-old, to be able to play any type of role in someone feeling more accepted is just exactly why I want to do what I do.”

Despite the notoriety brought by “Medusa,” Wreckno struggles with being viewed simply as a vocal artist rather than a producer. For many people in the bass music scene, there is an expectation that vocal artists will only come on stage for a few songs and expect the rest of the set to be heavy hitting. For Wreckno, this is of course not the case.

“I know for a fact it’s not hitting with some people, but I see the bigger picture and what I want as a performer,” they said. “I am now embodying what I saw for myself. It’s more so the struggle of just how they perceive me,

but in the end I don’t really give a fuck.”

Photograph © Kompass Music Group

“I knew that using my voice was the only way I was going to be able to musically express my desire to have inclusion for queer people in electronic music.”

Wisniski’s success as a musician has helped them face adversity from people within their own friend groups who could not handle how open they were with their sexuality. Experiences such as these have helped to fuel the identity of the Wreckno project.

“I was expecting my queerness to be a part of the project, but it was all about getting my confidence with my voice,” said Wreckno.

Today, Wreckno’s fan base continues to grow as their project message has evolved along with them. For Wisniski, this project has always been about queeer representation, but now, it’s so much larger than just that. They have finally derived the attention and acclaim befitting of their lofty dreams, but now we have the pleasure of watching them blossom.

“Inclusive, open-minded, accepting energy in a scene that has not always had it, that’s the [energy] I hope the fanbase and community I’m trying to create with this project embody[...]

...I know I’m there and I know people see what I’m doing, but I still want to keep pushing.”

Wreckno throws down some sassy bars at Yonderville Music Festival, 2022. Photograph © Audrey Alexandrescu

© Photo by Jonathan Humphrey

Breaks Out of Every Mold

From obtaining an MBA at Harvard while touring as MIA’s drummer to making international headlines for “free bleeding” during the 2015 London Marathon, Kiran Gandhi—professionally known as Madame Gandhi—has effectively combined her talent as a musician with her passion for advocacy.

An “electrofeminist,” the core of Gandhi’s work is “music that’s good for you,” like rejecting misogynistic lyricism and organically sourcing sounds for her upcoming EP.

She recounted the months she spent both earning an MBA at Harvard and touring as MIA’s drummer; she discussed making international headlines as the “free bleeder” of the London Marathon because she had decided to run the race after starting her period without a tampon or pad; she deconstructed what it meant to bake feminist theory into the electronic genre, aptly coined “electrofeminism.” And while every story warranted an exclamation from the

Madame Gandhi Maggie West

Abigail Glasgow

Madame Gandhi Maggie West

the audience—after all, this woman was maybe 26-years-old and already a legend—what drew me to Gandhi was the way she engaged us. While a performer by trade, there was no performativity, no false pretense.

I have witnessed her carry herself in this same way in front of thousands as she had in that room of 40. At once a scholarly musician and a musical scholar with an anti-hierarchical approach to the industry, she is continuously centering collectives and movements over the individual’s climb to the top. And the thesis of her work has always been, in her words, “making music that is good for you.” In 2020, this meant a TED Talk wherein Gandhi—decked in a sunshine yellow suit in front of an identical backdrop—interrogated why

we have accepted misogynistic and oppressive lyricism as the background to our concerts, our exercise classes and our work days. Today, this means working on an album while in school (apparently a pattern for her) focusing on how to organically source sound—an ethos she sees as akin to the conscious consumption movement. In essence, self-reflection and intentional musicality are the foundations to Gandhi’s career.

Abigail Glasgow: How would you describe the role and responsibility of an audience?

Madame Gandhi: I very much enjoy keeping my audience active and engaged. The best gift you can give yourself is the gift of presence, so I want my audience to feel present during my show—inspired and alive. I enjoy when I can tell that my audience is listening or reflecting based on what I am sharing, and even more so when they are singing and dancing with me. I see my own show as a journey; and by the end of it, I want the audience to feel a large sense of togetherness, presence and joy.

AG: What’s the relationship between you and your stage self?

MG: I chose an artist because I wanted to create some distance between my evolving self and the self that is publicfacing. My real last name is Gandhi, and I chose the name Madame Gandhi because I liked the idea of celebrating feminine styles of leadership, while still preserving my heritage and roots. My artistic practice is learning, growing and workshopping my personal values and ideals as Kiran; and then graduating them up to the Madame Gandhi

Madame Gandhi Maggie West

project, ready for sharing on stage or writing as lyrics of songs. I think a lot about societal norms and this shapes my personal value system. I also pay a lot of attention to what inspires me. As this evolves and grows, so too does my music and the themes I choose to write about! When I put a song out, I want to stand by the lyrics I am writing. I want to be sure they are true, authentic, and inspired. So I spend time with my values personally before writing them. This is my relationship between myself and my stage self.

AG: Attention spans are declining. How does the attention economy affect the way you think about performance? How can performance be part of healing this deficit?

MG: I always think of my shows as more of “an evening with Madame Gandhi,” where I think about designing an experience for the audience endto-end. I want folks to feel interested, engaged and curious when they come in; and uplifted, motivated and reenergized when they leave. I use clips from my show to post on social media as a chance to advertise what I do, but no online experience can replace the human-to-human interaction that comes from being a part of something in person. I have been on stages since I was little, and that’s where I do best holding an audience’s attention. I like to look into the eyes of my audience, see who I am speaking to, and speak authentically from that divine moment. I find that space more challenging in social media.

AG: Does recording a performance for publishing purposes change how

Styling by Victoria Bisous. Makeup by Susana Ospina. Creative direction by Sara Scifu.

Styling by Victoria Bisous. Makeup by Susana Ospina. Creative direction by Sara Scifu.

it feels to be on stage? What’s the relationship between your archive and your live work?

MG: I have watched video recordings of my shows, and I often feel “This is rad, but you had to have been there!” I think video sometimes is the opposite of whatever reality is. For example, live music shows shot for television often lack genuine enthusiasm and excitement in person, but look absolutely incredible and high energy on TV or livestream. And vice versa, often those same livestreams can’t always capture the artists’ ability to connect with the audience and the feeling of togetherness we have cultivated over the course of the set. Additionally, when I have been asked to livestream a virtual show with no live audience fully to camera, I crash and burn! I really don’t enjoy it. The reason I perform is to connect. When that is taken away from me, my main motivation for being on stage is lost. So I will always be someone who does well in-person, connecting in the moment authentically with an audience, and the better I can document those moments, the better my video capture will be.

AG: What themes are you currently exploring and how can we expect to see them manifest in new work?

MG: Coming out of the pandemic, I spent a lot of time in nature. I had shot a music video called Waiting For Me in Mumbai, India that explored themes of moving away from drab, industrial spaces into nature, color and freedom (this video won the jury award for best music video at SXSW 2021). I continued to spend time in

nature recording hundreds of forest sounds, and then went on to create a pack of beats and synths out of them which, after their launch on splice. com, won the Splice New.Wav Award in 2021 for its innovation. Pursuing my master’s in music, science and technology at Stanford’s Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics this year, I learned how to build underwater microphones, and continued my nature sound recording adventure underwater. I recorded the sound of whales, dolphins, seals and sea lions. I went out to Antarctica with a group of creatives, entrepreneurs and marine biologists in March and recorded the sounds of glaciers melting underwater. It is a simultaneously tragic and beautiful sound, and I have been making beats out of these icy recordings. These gorgeous sounds will be featured on my album coming out in the fall, called Vibrations. It will be the third of three EPs, following Voices (2016) and Visions (2019). In the same way we have a conscious food movement, I am interested in a conscious music movement. Not only are the lyrics good for you, singing back mantra-like positive lyrics, but the beats themselves are 100% organically sourced sound material from nature field recordings!

Original article was written by Abigail Glasgow published in June 23, 2022.

“Holding the burden of representation doesn’t concern me anymore, because I’ve already suffered through that,” reflects Vegas native Shamir Bailey as they release their ground-breaking eighth album, Heterosexuality.

When I finally get through to Shamir Bailey after a series of technical difficulties, they’re in the back of a van, having embarked on a string of dates with Aussie indie act Courtney Barnett (“she’s super sweet!” they tell me). I recall my Zoom interview with the singer from three months ago, describing Courtney as remarkably guarded with her public words but highly intelligent.

“That’s exactly how I would describe her to people,” Shamir grins. “We’ve known each other for a while, actually. We’re both Scorpios, our birthdays are three days apart. I feel like both our careers kind of took off at a similar time.”

It’s early February and the Las Vegas-born, South Phillybased musician and producer is preparing to drop their eighth studio album, Heterosexuality.

The multidisciplinary indie-rock act uses the collection to confront their queerness explicitly, with a trailblazing power and evocative rawness. Melding industrial synths with reimagined ‘90s melodies, it finds the 27-yearold addressing the issue of radical acceptance on the likes of ‘Cisgender’, ‘Reproductive’ and ‘Gay Agenda’, which are as unapologetic as they are exhilarating to listen to.

It’s easy to see why Shamir has attracted such respect; their

continuous ability to push music into uncomfortable places while making space for others is only the tip of the iceberg.

“This album is me finally acknowledging my trauma,” the singer asserts on the press release. “Everyone knows I’ve been through so much shit, and I just rammed through, without acknowledging what I feel on almost a daily basis.”

On the cover, Shamir with horns and cloven hooves looking like an

Shamir

Marcus Maddox*

Shamir Marcus Maddox*

androgynous Baphomet. Instead of any form of “pure” gender confirmation, the artist chooses a radical refusal of any sort of categorisation. It further confirms Shamir as the polymathic antihero of the indie underground. Having said that, the singer has battled with the pressure of representing a marginalised group since when aged nineteen they emerged onto the scene.

“Holding the burden of representation doesn’t concern me anymore because I’ve already suffered through that. I felt so heavy when I first came out - not like out of the closet but out in music. I just really suffered,” Shamir explains, candidly. “The concept of a non-binary pop star was so foreign in 2014. Everyone

“The music indus T ry has grown a lit T le bit but i T ’s o B viousl Y far fro M perfect.”

spokesperson for the friction I feel in the binary, straight world. It’s definitely one of the specific wounds that I had to address. It felt cathartic to work through that while making this record. After

Prolific is a word that repeatedly arises when Shamir’s name enters the conversation. Their debut extended play, Northtown, was released in June 2014, and the singer signed with XL Recordings in October that same year. After the release of hit single ‘On The Regular’, six full-length albums arrived in the space of four years: Ratchet (2015); Hope (2017); Revelations (2017); Resolution (2018); and Be The Yee, Here Comes The Haw (2019). Two more came in 2020, Cataclysm and Shamir. From 2017 onwards, Shamir took control of their narrative after parting ways with XL.

“Making records is routine for me at this point. It feels like second nature,” they explain to me. “Promo is just something I have to do now – instead of just getting a diary like a normal person, I scrapbook my life!”

Shamir Marcus Maddox*

B Wreckno Ready to Blossom Into a Star

randon Wisniski grew up an avid bass music fan from Northern Michigan, yet even through their abundant passion and excitement, it would have been hard for them to envision becoming the fabulous force that is Wreckno.

Emily Appenzeller

Growing up in a small town, Wisniski was one of the few openly queer people in their community. They were a major Lady Gaga fan—made evident by the poster hanging over their creative space during his Zoom interview with MP3 MAG—and at 14, their mother took them to their first Gaga concert.

She worried they’d be unhappy with the nose-bleed seats, but Wisniski belted every lyric and hit every step of choreography all the same. From that moment on, they knew they wanted to be a performer. Shortly after, they and their brother started working on music together in FL Studio, which gave them experience recording their voice and being creative with writing music. Then came their first big music festival at the age of 15, and to this day it has shaped their love for electronic music. At the time, it was the most future forward experience in their life other than seeing their idol Lady Gaga, but this

© Photo by Tessa Paisan

was all just the beginning for the vision of the Wreckno project. “Once I saw Gaga in the perfor-mance realm and then the craziness that is electronic music, I was like, ‘I wanna do both of those things.’” With the launch of Wreckno, Wisniski quickly became known for their catchy pop and bass music mashups. It took a tremendous amount of hustle, as well as countless shows played for minimal pay, but they began to gain a level of notoriety that would bring them the most important opportunities of their career.

“I think that one of the things that people have been able to connect with this project has been related to the fact that I really love pop culture and music,” said Wreckno.

“I was coming from a very sassy, queer point of view that I knew the girls and boys could get down with.”

After nearly a year of touring, hard work, and networking, Wreckno got the opportunity of a lifetime to meet one of their biggest inspirations, GRiZ. Having attended the CO-artist’s shows since they were 16, it was a surreal moment to chat with him, let alone collaborate.

For Wisniski, this first interaction with an idol of theirs really solidified what they were going for and helped people realize the Wreckno project is different from what they might have perceived early on. Before the pandemic shutdown, they were able to release their collab EP with Super Future, Hypernatural, and kick off the first few dates on their tour, including a slot on the lineup at Okeechobee Music Festival. Their rise in popularity continued to grow, but truly transcended when they were asked to be the vocalist for GRIZ’S track, “Medusa.” Despite having one of their biggest performances to date—a pool party set slot at Deja Voom—cancelled, the track elevated them to even new heights.

“My silver lining for 2020 was that people wanted that gay pool party with me and Griz [at Deja Voom] so bad,” said Wreckno. “I think that Grant was like, “Hey, let’s make something cool because they couldn’t get that big gay party.

Now it’s like “Medusa” is the gay pool party.“

Fast forward almost one full year since the release of the iconic track, and Wisniski continues to see theafter effects in their personal career. What the young producer has come to appreciate the most—even over their continued success—is the ability to be a role model and inspire their fans.

Wisniski recalls queer icons, such as Mykki Blanco, Cakes Da Killa, and Brooke Candy, that they were able to look up to growing up. They were able to compare their relationship with these artists and how their music affected them when they were young to the inspiration and representation they are now offering to young fans today with their own music.

“Gaga was the mainstream gay icon, but there was also all these amazing queer artists that have existed for so long,” Wreckno said. “As a 16-yearold, to be able to play any type of role in someone feeling more accepted is just exactly why I want to do what I do.”

© Photo by Jonathan Humphrey

Wisniski poses on stage at Shambhala Music Festival in Canada, 2023 © Photo by Visually Y.S.A.

Despite the notoriety brought by “Medusa,” Wreckno struggles with being viewed simply as a vocal artist rather than a producer. For many people in the bass music scene, there is an expectation that vocal artists will only come on stage for a few songs and expect the rest of the set to be heavy hitting. For Wreckno, this is of course not the case.

“I know for a fact it’s not hitting with some people, but I see the bigger picture and what I want as a performer,” they said. “I am now embodying what I saw for myself. It’s more so the struggle of just how they perceive me, but in the end I

don’t really give a fuck.”

Wisniski’s success as a musician has helped them face adversity from people within their own friend groups who could not handle how open Wisinki was with their sexuality. Experiences such as these have helped to fuel the identity of the Wreckno project. “I was expecting my queerness to be a part of the project, but it was all about getting my confidence with my voice,” said Wreckno.

Today, Wreckno’s fan base continues to grow as their project message has evolved along with them. For Wisniski, this project has always been about queer representation, but now, it’s so much larger than just that. They have finally derived the attention and acclaim befitting of their lofty dreams, but now we have the pleasure of watching them blossom.

“Inclusive, open-minded, accepting energy in a scene that has not always had it, that’s the [energy] I hope the fanbase and community I’m trying to create with this project embody...

...I know I’m there and I know people see what I’m doing, but I still want to keep pushing.” This article

Wisniski’s pronouns were retroactively

Wreckno throws down some sassy bars at Yonderville Music Festival, 2022.

Photograph © Audrey Alexandrescu

Photograph © Kompass Music Group

F MadameGandhi Breaks Out of Every Mold

rom obtaining an MBA at Harvard while touring as MIA’s drummer to making international headlines for “free bleeding” during the 2015 London Marathon, Kiran Gandhi—professionally known as Madame Gandhi—has effectively combined her talent as a musician with her passion for advocacy. An “electrofeminist,” the core of Gandhi’s work is “music that’s good for you,” like rejecting misogynistic lyricism and organically sourcing sounds for her upcoming EP.

She recounted the months she spent both earning an MBA at Harvard and touring as MIA’s drummer; she discussed making international headlines as the “free bleeder” of the London Marathon because she had decided to run the race after starting her period without a tampon or pad; she deconstructed what it meant to bake feminist theory into the electronic genre, aptly coined “electrofeminism.” And while every story warranted an exclamation from the audience—after all, this woman was maybe 26-years-old and already a legend—what drew me to Gandhi was the way she engaged us. While a performer by trade, there was no performativity, no false pretense.

I have witnessed her carry herself in this same way in front of thousands as she had

Abigail Glasgow

in that room of 40. At once a scholarly musician and a musical scholar with an anti-hierarchical approach to the industry, she is continuously centering collectives and movements over the individual’s climb to the top. And the thesis of her work has always been, in her words, “making music that is good for you.” In 2020, this meant a TED Talk wherein Gandhi—decked in a sunshine yellow suit in front of an identical backdrop—interrogated why we have accepted misogynistic and oppressive lyricism as the background to our concerts, our exercise classes and our work days. Today, this means working on an album while in school

Madame Gandhi

Maggie West

(apparently a pattern for her) focusing on how to organically source sound—an ethos she sees as akin to the conscious consumption movement. In essence, selfreflection and intentional musicality are the foundations to Gandhi’s career.

Abigail Glasgow: How would you describe the role and responsibility of an audience?

Madame Gandhi: I very much enjoy keeping my audience active and engaged. The best gift you can give yourself is the gift of presence, so I want my audience to feel present during my show—inspired and alive. I enjoy when I can tell that my audience is listening or reflecting based on what I am sharing, and even more so when they are singing and dancing with me. I see my own show as a journey; and by the end of it, I want the audience to feel a large sense of togetherness, presence and joy.

AG: What’s the relationship between you and your stage self?

“Leading from the femme is the alternative kind of leadership that I want everybody to embody.”

MG: I chose an artist because I wanted to create some distance between my evolving self and the self that is public-facing. My real last name is Gandhi, and I chose the name Madame Gandhi because I liked the idea of celebrating feminine styles of leadership, while still preserving my heritage and roots. My artistic practice is learning, growing and workshopping my personal values and ideals as Kiran; and then graduating them up to the Madame Gandhi project, ready for sharing on stage or writing as lyrics of songs. I think a lot about societal norms and this shapes my personal value system. I also pay a lot of attention to what inspires me. As this evolves and grows, so too does my music and the themes I choose to write about! When I put a song out, I want to stand by the lyrics I am writing. I want to be sure they are true, authentic, and inspired. So I spend time with my values personally before writing them. This is my relationship between myself and my stage self.

AG: Attention spans are declining. How does the attention economy affect the way you think about performance? How can performance be part of healing this deficit?

MG: I always think of my shows as more of “an evening with Madame Gandhi,” where I think about designing an experience for the audience end-to-end. I want folks to feel interested, engaged and curious when they come in; and uplifted, motivated and re-energized when they leave. I use clips from my show to post on social media as a chance to advertise what I do, but no online experience can replace the humanto-human interaction that comes from being a part of something in person. I have been on stages since I was little, and that’s where I do best holding an audience’s attention. I like to look into the eyes of my audience, see who I am speaking to, and speak authentically from that divine moment. I find that space more challenging in social media.

AG: Does recording a performance for publishing purposes change how it feels to be on stage? What’s the relationship between your archive and your live work?

Madame Gandhi Maggie West

MG: I have watched video recordings of my shows, and I often feel “This is rad, but you had to have been there!” I think video sometimes is the opposite of whatever reality is. For example, live music shows shot for television often lack genuine enthusiasm and excitement in person, but look absolutely incredible and high energy on TV or livestream. And vice versa, often those same livestreams can’t always capture the artists’ ability to connect with the audience and the feeling of togetherness we have cultivated over the course of the set. Additionally, when I have been asked to livestream a virtual show with no live audience fully to camera, I crash and burn! I really don’t enjoy it. The reason I perform is to connect. When that is taken away from me, my main motivation for being on stage is lost. So I will always be someone who does well in-person, connecting in the moment authentically with an audience, and the better I can document those moments, the better my video capture will be.

AG: What themes are you currently exploring and how can we expect to see them manifest in new work?

MG: Coming out of the pandemic, I spent a lot of time in nature. I had shot a music video called Waiting For Me in Mumbai, India that explored themes of moving away from drab, industrial spaces into nature, color and freedom (this video won the jury award for best music video at SXSW 2021). I continued to spend time in

Styling by Victoria Bisous. Makeup by Susana Ospina. Creative direction by Sara Scifu.

nature recording hundreds of forest sounds, and then went on to create a pack of beats and synths out of them which, after their launch on splice. com, won the Splice New.Wav Award in 2021 for its innovation. Pursuing my master’s in music, science and technology at Stanford’s Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics this year, I learned how to build underwater microphones, and continued my nature sound recording adventure underwater. I recorded the sound of whales, dolphins, seals and sea lions. I went out to Antarctica with a group of creatives, entrepreneurs and marine biologists in March and recorded the sounds of glaciers melting underwater. It is a simultaneously tragic and beautiful sound, and I have been making beats out of these icy recordings. These gorgeous sounds will be featured on my album coming out in the fall, called Vibrations. It will be the third of three EPs, following Voices (2016) and Visions (2019). In the same way we have a conscious food movement, I am interested in a conscious music movement. Not only are the lyrics good for you, singing back mantralike positive lyrics, but the beats themselves are 100% organically sourced sound material from nature field recordings!

“May we all be brave enough to ignite the way and be our own guru.”

Original article was written by Abigail Glasgow published in June 23, 2022.

Styling by Victoria Bisous. Makeup by Susana Ospina. Creative direction by Sara Scifu.

MANIFESTING FIERCE VULNERABILITY Shamir

KATE BRAYDEN

Holding the burden of representation doesn’t concern me anymore, because I’ve already suffered through that,” reflects Vegas native Shamir Bailey as they release their ground-breaking eighth album, Heterosexuality.

When I finally get through to Shamir Bailey after a series of technical difficulties, they’re in the back of a van, having embarked on a string of dates with Aussie indie act Courtney Barnett (“she’s super sweet!” they tell

me). I recall my Zoom interview with the singer from three months ago, describing Courtney as remarkably guarded with her public words but highly intelligent.

“That’s exactly how I would describe her to people,” Shamir grins. “We’ve known each other for a while, actually. We’re both Scorpios, our birthdays are three days apart. I feel like both our careers kind of took off at a similar time.”

It’s early February and the Las Vegasborn, South Philly-based musician and producer is preparing to drop their eighth studio album, Heterosexuality.

The multidisciplinary indie-rock act uses the collection to confront their queerness explicitly, with a trailblazing power and evocative rawness. Melding industrial synths with reimagined ‘90s melodies, it finds the 27-year-old addressing the issue of radical acceptance on the likes of ‘Cisgender’, ‘Reproductive’ and ‘Gay Agenda’, which are as unapologetic as they are exhilarating to listen to.

It’s easy to see why Shamir has attracted such respect; their continuous ability to push music into uncomfortable places while making space for others is only the tip of the iceberg.

“This album is me finally acknowledging my trauma,” the singer asserts on the press release.

Shamir

Marcus Maddox*

“Everyone knows I’ve been through so much shit, and I just rammed through, without acknowledging what I feel on almost a daily basis.”

On the cover, Shamir with horns and cloven hooves looking like an androgynous Baphomet. Instead of any form of “pure” gender confirmation, the artist chooses a radical refusal of any sort of categorisation. It further confirms Shamir as the polymathic antihero of the indie underground. Having said that, the singer has battled with the pressure of representing a marginalised group since when aged nineteen they emerged onto the scene.

“Holding the burden of representation doesn’t concern me anymore because I’ve already suffered through that. I felt so heavy when I first came out - not like out of the closet but out in music. I just really suffered,” Shamir explains, candidly. “The concept of a non-binary pop star was so foreign in 2014. Everyone only wanted to talk about my core identity.

I don’t feel like that record was even about being non-binary: it’s really frustrating.

“That’s why I say in the press release for this record that the album is about undoing trauma around my queerness,” they continue. “It focused on external trauma from people wanting to put their own ideas about my relationship with queerness onto me, especially in interviews. People would try to make me a spokesperson for the friction I feel in the binary, straight world. It’s definitely one of the specific wounds that I had to address. It felt cathartic to work through that while making this record. After eight records, I finally don’t feel that pressure anymore.”

Does Shamir believe that the industry has moved forward enough for queer artists?

“Luckily, with time, there’s always progress. It’s slow, and very nonlinear, as far as the music industry goes. I don’t feel like media publications are succeeding in making me a weird poster queer kid, like they were when I first came out. People still want to talk about my music. People still want to talk about me as an artist, rather than a sensationalised idea of me being queer.

The music industry has grown a little bit but it’s obviously far from perfect.”

Prolific is a word that repeatedly arises when Shamir’s name enters the conversation. Their debut extended play, Northtown, was released in June 2014, and the singer signed with XL Recordings in October that same year. After the release of hit single ‘On The Regular’, six full-length albums arrived in the space of four years: Ratchet (2015); Hope (2017); Revelations (2017); Resolution (2018); and Be The Yee, Here Comes The Haw (2019). Two more came in 2020, Cataclysm and Shamir. From 2017 onwards, Shamir took control of their narrative after parting ways with XL.

“Making records is routine for me at this point. It feels like second nature,” they explain to me. “Promo is just something I have to do now – instead of just getting a diary like a normal person, I scrapbook my life!”

Shamir

Marcus Maddox*