ISSUE No. 1










Featuring articles on performing artists!
A deeper look into what makes Wet Leg, UMI, and Lil Uzi Vert stand out onthis years festival line up
Featuring articles on performing artists!
A deeper look into what makes Wet Leg, UMI, and Lil Uzi Vert stand out onthis years festival line up
Featuring articles on performing artists!
A deeper look into what makes Wet Leg, UMI, and Lil Uzi Vert stand out at this years festival line up
Featuring articles on performing artists!
A deeper look into what makes Wet Leg, UMI, and Lil Uzi Vert stand out onthis years festival line up
Featuring articles on performing artists!
A deeper look into what makes Wet Leg, UMI, and Lil Uzi Vert stand out onthis years festival line up
Q&A
Rising Seattle-born and now LA-based musician Tierra Umi Wilson (better known as just UMI) is a perfect embodiment of her middle name, which translates to “ocean” in Japanese. Her music—an amalgamation of lo-fi beats, intense soul, and poignantly simple lyricism—radiates a quiet and compelling peace, not unlike that found in breaking ocean waves. And being half-Black and half-Japanese, UMI has rooted her identity in fluidity. It should come as no surprise, then, that breaking barriers in music seems to come naturally for her.
She’s been building slowly and steadily, sharing covers on YouTube and SoundCloud since high school, but this year especially, her momentum has hit new heights. In recent months, UMI has been sharing her energy far and wide. She just wrapped up a national tour with Cuco, is gearing up for a new EP after her last project Balance, and is about to hit the road with Conan Gray this November.
As her work reaches wider audiences, UMI hopes to keep up her thoughtful, intentional approach and create a healing space with everything she does—all, of course, while still going with the flow. Read our interview with UMI below.
always had really bad stage fright, so no one knew I sang but my family. I’ve been writing songs since I was 4 and I have journals from back then. In high school, I wanted to do music but started a YouTube channel because I was scared to sing in front of people.
Then I used to do covers—I was that girl who does covers every week for four years in high school. I started putting those covers on SoundCloud and eventually I started getting flagged for copyright. I was at two strikes and I was like, “You know what? This is the universe telling me to start putting out original music.” Then I just took some songs from all my journals and started producing my own stuff and playing guitar and putting that on SoundCloud and YouTube, and over time it’s grown. It’s always been in my family because my mom’s a pianist and my dad’s a drummer.
So it’s almost like you’ve always had it. It just took the right moment to uncover.
Exactly! It feels like it’s always been my natural way of expression. Back then, I didn’t even realize what I was doing—it’d be like, “I’m angry, I’ma write a song.” But now I see that’s just an extension of me.
I feel like it’s always been an extension of me. I’ve been singing since I was super little. But I
Where do you draw inspiration from, whether that’s life experience or sonic influence?
I write poetry or I write journal entries about
things that happen and then when I’m in the studio I draw from that. But I’m also very empathetic, so I feel other people’s energies a lot. Like, “Remember Me” was [actually] my friend’s experience which I felt so deeply that I wrote the song almost for her, but I felt like I was going through it too.
Sonically, I’m inspired by a lot of neo-soul and female artists like SZA and Eryakh Badu. Women who talk about how they feel. [SZA’s album] Ctrl was the first time I felt like someone who looked like me was talking about things like insecurity. It was cool to realize I can write about that and people actually listen to it.
That’s what I want to do with my music, too. I want to give back to my fellow listeners. I hope people can find healing—I learned that from people [who came] before me.
So you wrote the song “Remember Me” based solely on your empathy?
eah, people don’t really know. They’re like, “Who broke your heart?” But I really that was my friend! Someone broke my friend’s heart. I just felt it so deeply.
I think it’s rare to be able to be that empathetic with other people—it’s a really beautiful trait that you bring to your work. What’s your
What I’ve been doing lately is making sure I’ve lived before I go to the studio. I used to just go to school and go to the studio, and I’d wonder why I felt creatively blocked when I’m writing music. Now I’ll go on an adventure. Hang out with my friends. I’ll talk to somebody so I’m always speaking from a place of emotion and the music connects more. Music is just energy, so you can feel the purest, most wholesome music that comes from my heart. That’s what I’ve been doing recently—just feeling more. When I feel more, I write better music.
When I feel more, I write better music. On social media, it seems like meditation is a big part of your life. How does your spirituality impact your music?
To me, spirituality is just heightened self-awareness and taking time to check in. That’s why I like to meditate—I’ll just reflect on the day and ask myself why certain things happened to me? Why did I feel this way? By doing that, I can write better music. I can always be more aware of where my emotions and lyrics come from.
The music industry can feel very unpredictable but [my spirituality] grounds me. I’ll make a vision board or I’ll script, which is when you write about something you want to happen as if it’s already happened. I’m not worried about where my career will go because it’ll flow the way it’s meant to. Spirituality just gives me more space to be authentic and emotional and aware of everything I’m creating and doing. It’s the same with the people I work with— it’s all about being intentional.
As a female in this industry, I’m realizing how important it is to be intentional with the people you surround yourself with. This industry is very male-centric. There can be a lot of male ego.
You can work with people who work you to the ground because they don’t understand the importance of mental health, or men who might not have boundaries, so I’m really intentional about men I allow into my life and work with. I’m really intentional about increasing the number of women I work with and making sure they resonate with my energy. So by being tapped into myself, I’m more aware of the people I’m going to surround myself with—I feel better everyday because people aren’t dragging me down with their energy.
That makes sense—you being more selfaware allows you to make better choices so you can be the best person you can be.
Exactly. Today, I was watching the Amy Winehouse documentary, and I felt like she just needed people who felt and heard her. That opened my eyes. I really need to be careful about who I surround myself with because it’s not like the music industry is bad—not if you just be intentional with who you surround yourself with.
As a female in this industry, I’m realizing how important it is to be intentional with the people you surround yourself with. This industry is very male-centric. There can be a lot of male ego.
I’m half-Japanese which is where “Umi,” my Japanese middle name, comes from. I speak Japanese and just went to Japan a couple months ago—I’m still very tapped into that part of myself. Growing up with my mom playing a lot of Japanese music in the house—like Japanese jazz, pop, and rock—I grew up with more melodies to tap into, and more perspective. So I’ve been realizing it more now, where a lot of my musical influences come from and
how getting exposed as a child allowed me to have that in my self-conscious.
Also, I had a bit of an identity crisis at one point. “Am I Asian? Am I Black? What do people see me as?” But now, accepting both parts of myself, and accepting that people might not see me as both parts of myself—just making music that expresses that has been important.
In both ways, I feel like your music reflects that. It’s a mix of a lot of different genres, like mixing the two parts of your identity. All of that speaks to breaking down the idea of barriers that we arbitrarily create.
That’s so true. Now’s the best time to be an artist, because you don’t have to be one thing anymore—you can be everything. I’ve also been realizing the significance of your name on your personality. I’m really glad my mom picked “Umi” because my personality is very like the ocean, you know? I can see myself having different parts of the ocean when I’m making music.
Do you feel like a lot of that is because you’ve been close to the coast your whole life?
That’s a really good point! I’ve always grown up seeing water. I think that’s very true. I just got back from Hawaii a couple weeks ago, and just staying right by the ocean was such a
healing experience. I’ve been learning to flow with life more. I’ve been having these ups and downs with emotions, but I would try to block and suppress it—and it’ll just come out in my music. I’m realizing I am the ocean. I just gotta flow with life.
Do you feel like a lot of that is because you’ve been close to the coast your whole life?
That’s a really good point! I’ve always grown up seeing water. I think that’s very true. I just got back from Hawaii a couple weeks ago, and just staying right by the ocean was such a healing experience. I’ve been learning to flow with life more. I’ve been having these ups and downs with emotions, but I would try to block and suppress it—and it’ll just come out in my music. I’m realizing I am the ocean. I just gotta flow with life.
I also learned that music really is energy. People would tell me they feel so healed from the show. And I felt like I was really doing something to help people, to impact people. So I just need to keep working on my live show and practicing so I can heal even more.
The British indie rock duo talk Grammy nominations, Harry Styles, and knitting.
Wet Leg, the British indie rock group helmed by Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers, are enjoying the quiet before the storm— four consecutive nights of shows across New York City—in front of the fireplace of attended an LCD Soundsystem concert together, but on this December morning they have traded their guitars for yarn as Teasdale knits and Chambers crochets, both newly acquired skills. “It’s really meditative,” says Chambers. “Well, it will be when I know what I’m doing.”
The quaint scene is quite a departure from their hectic year. Just last week, Wet Leg picked up four Brit Award nominations (tied with Harry Styles) in addition to the five Grammy nominations, including best new artist and best alternative album, already under their belt. They opened for Florence and the Machine, and wrapped their own North American and European tours in support of their Mercury Prize–nominated self-titled debut, released in April. Rolling Stone even called them “The Buzziest New Band of the Year,” and it’s easy to see why. Deep in the resurgence of sad-girl pop and an influx of post-pandemic albums written about our collective doom, Teasdale and Chambers offer good old-fashioned fun. Their first single, “Chaise Longue,” is, simply put, very silly. The hypnotic repetition of lyrics like “I got the big D” and a Mean Girls reference (“Is your muffin buttered? / Would you like us to assign someone to butter your muffin?”) tell you all you need to know about their sense of humor. “We made those songs for ourselves,” says Teasdale. “It’s just us indulging in our inside jokes,” Chambers says of their songwriting process. Which now, with songs so catchy, they’ve let us all in on.
Last May, Harry Styles, who will compete against them for album of the year at the Brit Awards, covered their cheeky single, “Wet Dream,” at the BBC Radio 1 Live Lounge. Now, at the end of this month, Wet Leg will open for Styles for three nights in Los Angeles before joining him on the European and Australian legs of his ongoing Love on Tour. When I mention touring with Styles, Chambers and Teasdale get a bit squirmy. “It’s just such a funny sentence,” Chambers says with an air of disbelief. “I’m a bit nervous because they are quite big venues—scary.” Teasdale chimes in with a few reassuring words: “That’s next year and now is now,” she says in a calm tone. Though they’ll be spending much of the year with one of the world’s most famous pop stars, they’re yet to meet him. “He’s very busy,” Chambers politely remarks.
Sitting across from Teasdale, 29, and Chambers, 28, it’s not hard to tell they’re best friends. “Music is such a vulnerable place to put yourself in,” says Chambers. “So to try to do it with someone that isn’t your kind of person. It’s probably not going to go very well.” Teasdale adds, “It won’t be fun.” Their personalities complement each other in a way that only those of best friends turned collaborators can, so much so that they find themselves finishing each other’s sentences throughout our conversation. Chambers is ethereal, speaking quietly, with tousled blonde hair, wearing a dainty lace blouse, her knuckles covered in jewelry she made herself (“Hester is an elf in a jewelry workshop,” says Teasdale). Teasdale is equally as poised, with contrasting long brown hair and a sparkling smile, but with an edge that balances the two out, wearing a distressed Buffy the Vampire Slayer shirt and
mismatched socks. The pair are sort of like Enid and Wednesday Addams, if they grew up in the UK.
They first met as teenagers studying music at Isle of Wight College. “I just thought you were so cool,” Chambers says to Teasdale. “And I was just like not cool.” But Teasdale interjects, “That is just not the reality at all.” After college, Teasdale was playing small gigs as a solo act and came offstage “hysterically crying” one night. “I think that’s when I realized I didn’t want to do it on my own,” says Teasdale. “I was like, ‘Hester, I’m really scared, please won’t you come and do these shows with me?’” Chambers admits that it was “really cool and really terrifying” when she asked her. They continued playing gigs and small festivals, mostly as a means to get in for free, they admit. Eventually they formally decided to become a band. “The rules were there ain’t no rules,” says Chambers with a smile. “Another rule was ‘as long as it’s fun.’ And also ‘don’t be scared,’” says Teasdale. “Feel the fear and do it anyway.”
Three more friends from college were soon added to the band, and with no expectations, they found management and sent out SoundCloud links to a few record labels. Then, with a completed album in their hands, they signed to Domino Records in 2021. It has been nonstop since then. Living on the road, in cramped buses and vans for most of it (and lots of microwavable food, according to Chambers). “It’s super hard and the best ever,” says Teasdale. “This whole time we’ve just kind of seen where the wind is blowing us,” Chambers maintains.
At the Bowery Ballroom, amid their string of New York City shows, Teasdale
and Chambers transform from English roses into head-banging, guitar-slinging rock stars. After a few songs that everyone knows the words to, before venturing into “Ur Mum,” Teasdale asks the crowd, “Are you guys up for releasing a few demons?” and together the crowded room screams in unison. In true Wet Leg fashion, they take the moment to offer up both comedic relief and release. “It’s really rad to see young people come to the shows and see a bit of yourself,” Chambers tells me. “That’s really special and hopeful.” It’s also not lost on the both of them that they are two women fronting a rock band, noting that they often see dads bringing their daughters to shows. “Looking back, when we were watching music, there’d be a token woman in the band,” says Teasdale. “It’s nice that times have moved on. It’s cool to think that maybe we could be that for girls wanting to play guitar.”
Next month, before hitting the road again (which includes a pit stop at Coachella and a performance at the Brit Awards), they will attend the Grammys. After 10 years together, they’re nominated for the coveted bestnew-artist award. But today Teasdale and Chambers are living in the moment. “I just can’t really imagine it,” says Chambers. “It’s not going to happen until it happens.” Then Teasdale strikes with her signature humor again. “There could be a zombie apocalypse between now and then,” she says. “You never know.” Chambers nods in agreement.
Three more friends from college were soon added to the band, and with no expectations, they found management and sent out SoundCloud links to a few record labels. Then, with a completed album in their hands, they signed to Domino Records in 2021. It has been nonstop since then. Living on the road, in cramped buses and vans for most of it (and lots of microwavable food, according to Chambers). “It’s super hard and the best ever,” says Teasdale. “This whole time we’ve just kind of seen where the wind is blowing us,” Chambers maintains.
At the Bowery Ballroom, amid their string of New York City shows, Teasdale and Chambers transform from English roses into head-banging, guitar-slinging rock stars. After a few songs that everyone knows the words to, before venturing into “Ur Mum,” Teasdale asks the crowd, “Are you guys up for releasing a few demons?” and together the crowded room screams in unison. In true Wet Leg fashion, they take the moment to offer up both comedic relief and release. “It’s really rad to see young people come to the shows and see a bit of yourself,” Chambers tells me. “That’s really special and hopeful.” It’s also not lost on the both of them that they are two women fronting a rock band, noting that they often see dads bringing their daughters to shows. “Looking back, when we were watching music, there’d be a token woman in the band,” says Teasdale. “It’s nice that times have moved on. It’s cool to think that maybe we could be that for girls wanting to play guitar.”
Next month, before hitting the road again (which includes a pit stop at Coachella and a performance at the Brit Awards), they will attend the Grammys. After 10 years together, they’re nominated for the coveted bestnew-artist award. But today Teasdale and Chambers are living in the moment. “I just can’t really imagine it,” says Chambers. “It’s not going to happen until it happens.” Then Teasdale strikes with her signature humor again. “There could be a zombie apocalypse between now and then,” she says. “You never know.” Chambers nods in agreement.
As our conversation begins to wind down, both Chambers and Teasdale have made significant progress on their needlework, though neither of them are sure what they are making yet. “The possibilities are endless,” says Chambers. Together we consider the options: a hat, a headband, maybe even what would be a very scandalous tube top. “Mistakes are quite high because you have to put in a lot of time before you realize that you’re doing it wrong,” says Teasdale. But they both seem less concerned with what the final result might be and more excited about learning along the way. “The mistakes look nice anyways,” Chambers says cheerfully. “Happy accidents.”
As an artist, Symere Bysil Woods, better known as rapper Lil Uzi Vert, has always associated style with his brand and imagery.
At only 26 years old, he has more than 20 million monthly listeners on Spotify and is one of rap’s brightest stars. His last album, “Eternal Atake,” broke multiple streaming records and was one of the best-selling albums of 2020.
Since the start of his career, Lil Uzi Vert has been heavily associated with luxury designers like Raf Simons, Prada and Marni. These relationships have grown as his popularity has skyrocketed and, as his career has progressed, so has his sense of style.
Even during his SoundCloud days, Lil Uzi Vert’s lyrics were constantly referencing brands. In the 2016 song “Hi Roller,” he raps, “Yeah, Yeezy my feet/I put Louis V, Don C my wrists.”
His affinity for brands has always been a part of his image, and he has maintained consistency in that regard.
Most of the brands he wore in 2016 were Raf Simons and Louis Vuitton, and his feature on Migos’ “Bad and Boujee” went No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. This career-high and release of his “Lil Uzi Vert vs. The World” mixtape elevated his popularity to new heights.
While most SoundCloud rappers were consistently rapping about drugs and other predictable topics, Lil Uzi Vert’s popularity came from his flow and delivery. His nasally, autotuned voice stood out from his competitors and that made his actions carry more weight than his competition.
A great example of this is A$AP Rocky, a rapper who has purposefully and fundamentally intertwined himself with fashion and whose clothing ventures and style influence go beyond his musicianship or rapping ability alone. These traits create a unique quality for the artists who have it, and a more marketable style creates more exposure.
Additionally, his live performances are trademarked by their entertaining unpredictability and high energy. His 2017 Rolling Loud Festival set was one of the most talked-about sets, and his extremely memorable stage dive also made headlines.
As Lil Uzi Vert’s popularity grew, so did his taste for expensive cars. Some of his most prominent cars include his Audi R8, which is one of his most popular ones. It features art from the manga “Sword Art Online” and is wrapped in a pink background with blue bubbles.
Another is his Bugatti Veyron, which he bought as a 25th birthday gift to himself in July 2019. His cars are extensions of his personal taste, and this sense of identity helps him magnetize his fans. As his collection grows, so does his connection to his fans and their understanding of his personality.
For Lil Uzi Vert and most rappers, their style can become a completely separate entity from their art while adding endless intrigue to their character.
In recent years, Lil Uzi Vert’s style has become more adventurous and personal. For Halloween, he wore a Frankenstein-Prada-themed outfit with green makeup and posed next to his Lamborghini Urus. This outfit became an effortless meme online, but him dressing like this was proof of his confidence in himself. Beyond his career, Lil Uzi Vert’s influence in fashion is inspiring for people who want to dress unconventionally, and useful for his fans, who want to get personal updates on his wardrobe. Clothes can transcend or amplify the person who wears them, and fashion is used to establish one’s identity and personality. For Lil Uzi Vert, his style is used as a vehicle for his career and, for his fans, a personal look into how he sees himself as a person and an artist. From his expansive car collection to his brand-dropping in raps, he embodies the life his music represents and uses fashion to expand his influence over the people who follow him.
As an artist, Symere Bysil Woods, better known as rapper Lil Uzi Vert, has always associated style with his brand and imagery.
At only 26 years old, he has more than 20 million monthly listeners on Spotify and is one of rap’s brightest stars. His last album, “Eternal Atake,” broke multiple streaming records and was one of the best-selling albums of 2020.
Since the start of his career, Lil Uzi Vert has been heavily associated with luxury designers like Raf Simons, Prada and Marni. These relationships have grown as his popularity has skyrocketed and, as his career has progressed, so has his sense of style.
Even during his SoundCloud days, Lil Uzi Vert’s lyrics were constantly referencing brands. In the 2016 song “Hi Roller,” he raps, “Yeah, Yeezy my feet/I put Louis V, Don C my wrists.”
His affinity for brands has always been a part of his image, and he has maintained consistency in that regard.
Most of the brands he wore in 2016 were Raf Simons and Louis Vuitton, and his feature on Migos’ “Bad and Boujee” went No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. This career-high and release of his “Lil Uzi Vert vs. The World” mixtape elevated his popularity to new heights.
While most SoundCloud rappers were consistently rapping about drugs and other predictable topics, Lil Uzi Vert’s popularity came from his flow and delivery. His nasally, autotuned voice stood out from his competitors and that made his actions carry more weight than his competition.