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Music provides solace for those seeking connection, offers a place of refuge artists and admirers alike. That sentiment rings especially true for New York-based artist Daniela Lalita. In celebration of her latest EP, Trececerotres, Lalita spoke to us from the heart, inviting office on a spiritual journey of vulnerability and sincerity.

Born in Peru, the artist gathers inspiration from her maternal side and the magical relationship shared between herself, her mother, and her grandmother. From the initial moment of conception, to the end product five years later, Lalita welcomes listeners into her sonic world of ritualistic compassion where she explores her personal experiences growing up.

Continue reading below for insight into the artist’s views and how her latest EP came to be.

How are you today? What's your headspace like?

My headspace right now is making my album. I'm excited to leave New York. That's where I'm at right now. I saw Rosalia yesterday and that was super inspiring to me. You're witnessing something that feels like a story. You know what I mean? It feels like you're reading a book and the different phases of a person's life. And I felt all different emotions. I was thrown from being happy to being sad to weeping, to crying, to jumping.

I feel like those emotions especially come out more when you're an artist yourself, and you can appreciate what they're doing.

I think as an artist, maybe you have a different outlook on it. I was looking at the people, I was looking at how people were reacting. I mean, I'm just also really emotional, so I was crying a lot. And I really love her. But I also think that people who don't necessarily make art are able to connect. I think that's the beauty with music is that I genuinely think that everyone has their own unique kind of musicality that maybe is unexplored and everyone can connect to it. You know what I mean? It's vibrational. It's literally math, we can't escape from it. It affects us. I think having a background in music tech has really allowed me to understand music beyond my emotions about it. And I think that it's allowed me to understand the physical effects of it.

Let's talk about your EP that you just released. I was listening to it and it has this haunting sort of otherworldly sound to it. Talk to us about the inspiration behind it and how the songs came to be.

I would say that instead of using the word haunting, I think the words I relate to are more ritualistic, honest, vulnerable, sincere, honest, and raw. I think that there's a lot of darkness as well as likeness and as well as magic. What I was simply doing was just exploring my experience growing up with my mother and my grandmother in Peru. Trececerotres is the name of the EP, which means 1303. I like playing with language a lot and I think that I really wanted it to be sort of like a code, almost like you couldn't really figure out if it sounds like a dinosaur. There's a lot of play with vocals, lyrics, and ways in which syllables are even conjugated I think with the intention of trying to play with language. Making sounds that are more expressive, which is something I learned from my mother and my grandmother.

How did the songs come to be?

I think it was an exploration of my experience with my mother and my grandmother and growing up with them in Peru. Going through a range of emotions and situations growing up with them changing roles. Sometimes I was the mother, sometimes I was the grandmother and sometimes my mother was the child. I think that this EP is a compilation of all of those experiences and I think the moment in which the climax happened was when my grandmother got sick, and I got to get really close to her when she had cancer. The three of us really got together and we got to know each other a lot more and I think that it was basically an outpour of my most honest emotions of dealing with hardship. Of remembering things and of being very honest with my emotions. With going back to your house, but in a way feeling the presence of death. How do you deal with that? How do you express that or express the passing of time? You can't really control the nature of nature itself, how death works.

So would you say overall, that over the five years of creating this EP, you found it to be therapeutic for you to express your emotions through your music?

Absolutely. It allowed me to express things that I think I wasn't able to express through conversations. I wasn't able to talk about this with people and so my intention behind this was like having faith that by making the songs, I would eventually connect with somebody else that might not be going through the same situation, but might be feeling the same way. You know, and in that way, we start a conversation even though we don't know each other. I think that there's a lot of magic in that.

The visuals for "No Para" and they were just really beautiful. From what I saw, how was filming the video for you?

I think that the video and the song are very different. I took a class on Paradise Lost and I remember we were talking about the devil in a compassionate way, in a very, like, human way. It wasn't actually evil, and it was just there to do its thing. You know what I mean? Like, that was its duty. I think that it inspired me to think about sort of destructive forces that try to stop you whenever you want to flourish or grow. In a way that's compassionate and I think that generally seeing things that threaten me in a compassionate way makes me feel safer. And I also think it's something that I've learned through my mental health journey, because I really care about mental health and the human brain and psychology in general. It was sort of an ode to this resistive force that I feel like wants to stop me from growing and flourishing. I think that everyone can relate to that and I gave it a compassionate voice. It wasn't really me singing, it was representing this mythological character that came in between mountains to make a wish and perform a ritual that I had performed before. We actually went in between mountains to reenact this ritual which was pretty cool. I gave a voice to this resistive force, and I made it a compassionate thing that was just there, and it couldn't help itself and it's just part of nature.

So you were born in Peru, how much does your Peruvian background play into your music?

A lot. I think it's just natural because from the parties that I go to, to the jokes that we make with my friends, to the songs that my grandmother and my mother would expose me to, to the songs that they play. For example, my mom was in a lot of bands when I was a kid and she would take me with her because I'm an only child, at least from my mom's side. She was in reggae bands, but also different forms of fusion. I would just be a kid exposed to all of this. So from my grandmother's experience and her songs that came from the highlands and my mom's experience in the jungle because they lived together, to going to parties, and listening to old school reggaeton. I think that Peruvian music for me in a way has marked me, but it's not something that I do intentionally. It's not like, "Oh, I want to make this a Peruvian song." It's just kinda like you were born around it, listening to it, from different regions and from different places, with different intentions. And I think it just comes through naturally because that's what I gravitate towards. But, I don't want to limit myself to make it all about that.

They're just making it for the love of making it.

The intention is to make something stay alive. You know what I mean? It's to tell a story. It's to continue a story that has to be told. It's more about history and it's about love and family. I think that's beautiful.

Are there any sort of specific rituals that you perform when you're writing something new? Like, how do you get into that headspace of writing?

I think that I make rituals something very personal. I think that I can create rituals by forcing myself to not use specific plugins and go through the process of making something that takes me five hours, or six hours or a week. Simply because the process makes it feel like I am more invested and I am giving more of myself. In that ritual of mine, I think that people will be able to hear it. I have this amazing mentor who is a musical electronic music pioneer from the 70s who created one of the first synthesizers ever. I mean, it's an honor I chased him. I think that something that I learned from him was that people can definitely feel it. And I think that I have my own rituals from threading voices together in a way that takes more time, but I think, captures more emotion to things that I would do with my mother and my grandmother, to simply having a moment with myself, connecting with water in my own ways, and doing things that my mother and my grandmother had done. And others that I think I'd rather just keep to myself.

I saw on your Instagram you spoke about partnering with the Rainforest Foundation and I thought that was really interesting. Can you talk to me a little bit more about this and what it means to you?

It means a lot to me, because my grandmother, grandfather, and mom grew up in the jungle. They lived there for 10 years, and they worked very closely with the Ashaninka tribe that lived in that region because they're nomadic. I was really inspired by that because there was an interchange of knowledge that came from different backgrounds. You know what I mean? Like my grandfather would help them with medicine, as much as they would help him with knowledge of something that he would have no access to in the city. I just find it a lot more inspiring to follow what they were doing. I find that a lot more inspiring and I think that it's a relationship that has just begun and it's something that I'm very excited to cultivate. I also am really excited to go and visit when the time is appropriate. I think that we will go to different regions that are in need of more help. For example, there's 70% of people that are not documented in Peru in general, but in the jungle, there's so much that's going on that needs protection, help, and awareness, and I find it very inspiring to involve myself in any way I can. I'm gonna keep exploring this and exploring how I will relate to that artistically, but it's probably what I'm most excited about actually.

I feel what I'm picking up is that there's so much to uncover, and so much to unravel. But the beauty in all of it is that you keep it close to yourself, and you share what you want to share, but there's so much more to it.

I think it's difficult to maintain a myth as an artist these days. I like fantasy and I think that in some ways, it's important to at least for me honor that. It's a difficult line between being honest and being vulnerable but still offers fantasy and magic.

At Something in the Water in Washington D.C. this year— the multifaceted, community-focused music festival born in Virginia Beach — with the capital winking at us in the distance, I saw Pharrell Williams, the festival's founder and director, perform alongside Clipse. N.O.R.E. Justin Timberlake. The audience and I toured the artist’s greatest hits, sweating and screaming along. And a block over, in a public park the Sunday following, I saw Pharrell sitting in rickety chairs with his family listening to gospel music alongside D.C. locals, families and church-goers.

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The dust was kicking up, the sound system teetering in and out, struggling to reach us on the ground — but it was in the dichotomy of the moment’s unity, and that of the night before, that I garnered a greater understanding of Williams. The church had been just as much a facet of his festival as faith has been in all he has done, whether we’ve seen it or not, his uncle Bishop Ezekiel Williams told me after his sermon that Sunday morning. As leader of the famed gospel choir Voices of Fire — which has received its own Netflix show of the same name — Bishop has made the melding of music and Christianity his lifeblood. and He has stood by Pharrell since the start, always seeing something greater in his nephew’s vision than others in his field, who had written it off as “secular,” and thereby shunned entirely from all things spiritual. But music can be a vessel, just like anything can if the right energy is infused into it. In his sermon, Bishop unpacked one of the New Testament’s most weighted, and iconic encounters: the Woman at the Well.

Like a hit has a sticky hook and lyrics that ring true regardless of the ears the notes reach, this story from the Gospel of John rang true for me – a Hebrew School dropout – that day, and I haven’t stopped hearing and seeing its message since. Jesus met a woman at the well, a woman who represented the lowest member of society — a social outcast, sex worker, and Samaritan. She had come to the well during the hour women would never dare to, in shame, and was shocked at Jesus approaching her, then asking her for a drink. The parable goes on to outline how Jesus told her of the “living water” he would provide, revealing himself to her as the Messiah. He told her “everything she’d ever done,” of her pursuits with men — and still, Jesus offered her this living water. He offered her a place of protection, a vehicle for prayer, for faith. There was something in the water— it was acceptance of truth, and of humanity.

Now, however one is able to touch others, to level with them in humility and humanity, whether it’s by water or by sound, “it all works together,” according to the Bishop, who works as his nephew does, diligently weaving spirituality into his work with music. “And so now,” Bishop says softly, as he turns back towards the service, “the music has come alive again.” Pharrell Williams is first and foremost a man of faith, though he holds, and upholds, a host of honorable titles — father, husband, producer, curator, entrepreneur. And the list goes on ad infinitum. After hours spent talking with the unparalleled artist, having been given access to him, his family, and the huge, warm world he’s built around himself, while I still don’t know his beauty routine, I do have a sense of what has kept his success, amongst other things, alive: The simplest, truest, most concentrated answer was glittering on a chain around his neck the first time we met, proclaiming in tiny diamonds, “GOD IS.”

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Something that stood out was the idea of gospel – of music itself – being a vessel for the message [of faith]. Is that how you feel about all the different projects that you are involved in, whether it's music, fashion, art, or otherwise?

It just feels instinctual, it’s what makes sense for me. There's never really been a plan, and every time I thought I had a plan, the universe… well, it's never really worked out for me. But I love and admire people who do it so well because they follow it to the letter. It's so good. Like Stanley Kubrick, perfect. Wes Anderson, perfect. Harmony Korine. You know, details, these guys — they stick to them. For me, it’s instincts and interest, but never a cohesive strategy.

Do you have any sort of core thesis statement, or question you ask yourself, like, "Does this fit?” Or do you just move towards, “I like this. I'm drawn to it."

 Just, “I wonder what life would be like if I lived like that.”

I like that — and it makes sense as you've been so ahead of the curve so many times.

I like to dance with uncertainty. Because what's on the other side of it? You just don't know what's on the other side of the song, or the other side of that T-shirt, or the other side of those kicks, the other side of a kiss. You just don't know what's on the other side. That uncertainty. Every day we do that. Every day you wake up.

So what was your exposure to art, fashion, and music growing up?

Pretty much like anybody else in Virginia Beach. Television and magazines, but I wasn't really into "textbook fashion." My fashion was whatever sport brand tees or skate tees. You know, a mixture. But I never really had a style like that. Nondescript, regular, average kid. Just a little more quirky… and then when you become a musician... then it becomes convenient. Your quirkiness becomes your thing.

When did that start? When did you start feeling like you identified as a musician?

Oh, I've always been one, but I don't think I identified myself as one because it didn't really seem like something that you could do at that time. I'm 16, it didn't even click. You want to consider yourself a musician? That's a different thing. Where do you go? You're not going to make it in the record industry, maybe you’ll play at some bar, or become a band teacher, or all these other really nice cool things, but when you're 16, that's not what you say.

At what point in time then did you start feeling like a “real” musician? It just happened?

Yeah! One of the things I realized about myself is that I've never really been so sure of what I was or where I was going. I just knew I loved what I was doing. And because I looked at life like that, that just created this super thick layer of delusion which worked to my benefit. Because then you could think of the impossible things. You might not do them all, but you could do some of them. You can't have it all.You can't be super self-aware, super hyperaware, and create the things that are like the children of delusion. You gotta kind of be delusional. You know what I'm saying? And in order to be delusional, some things about you have to kind of be a little off. It's just like, when you’re lucky enough to go into a career or a vocation that welcomes that absentmindedness, then it works out for you. But man, when you don't, but you’re that kind of person, then it could be rough. 

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What do you think, as a producer, sets you apart and is emblematic of your sound?

I don't know, because I'm always trying to change that.

When you’re trying to change it, do you also want to still sound like you? To have a Pharrell trademark?

No. Because I think who I am is my spirit. So if you can sense my spirit, that’s something great, but I never really want to use the same stuff over and over again. Sometimes I'll get stuck on a snare sound just because it's different and I want to create a little mini vignette of an era.

What is producing other artists like for you? What’s the difference between that and working on your own projects?

I don't know if there's a difference. I think it's just a different vibe, it’s a different vibration. But again, it's not something I’ve looked at and said, "Man, this is so distinctively different." There are a couple of variables that go along with, and make it distinctively different, but I think I'm just so into the vibe and the vibration. I chase that. And however it happens, I'm cool.

Can you describe that more? The vibration?

First of all, we are all like 100+ pounds of vibration. All these molecules working together to make us who we are. And light and sounds within the electromagnetic spectrum. And as we express ourselves, it comes through in that. And it's just so ill to me, how like, a movie or something, can make a person feel. Or somebody can hear something and have a sentient kinetic feeling. That's so crazy to me. And so I'm always loyal to it, you know, based on the fact that it’s not promised. And if you’ve ever had access to it, or, as you mentioned, as artists, we’re all vessels for the universe. And the fact that it chooses me, I'm just so enamored by that. And so inspired by that, that I just chase that. That’s the most important part to me, the vibration. And so, if it’s just me by myself, okay, cool. But I find that the energy that other people have is the greatest – other people are like hotspots for me. I write differently when an artist is trying to express something, or there’s something I think they should be expressing. That's what we call inspiration. Inspiration is a vibe… That's the job. I'm loyal to that.

When you talk about that kinetic experience, do you remember the first song or piece of music that made you feel that?

Oh, all my life music has made me feel that. I wonder if you know how important it was to you in your first five years of life.

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Well, my first word was “tunes.”

There you go. It's like your parents, your family, God, music, TV. It's like maybe 10 things that a child makes reference to in their first five to seven years, and music is one of them. It’s big. It's because there’s all those vibrations. And if you could communicate, and the child could be articulate enough, it’d be interesting to hear them think about what music is to them when they’re five. 

What's the first thing that you remember idolizing?

I think Michael. And then in terms of music and bodies of work, man, Stevie Wonder. All of his music just makes you feel stuff. Earth Wind and Fire, they really make you feel stuff.

Yeah. So it’s a lot about emotion as well. That connection and communication.

Music is the only thing that can be in a room, touch everybody, and not get in anyone’s way.

Well said. And so, how did it come about that you entered the fashion space?

That was just a natural evolution. I pride myself on being a collaborator. My greatest collaborations are where you find my best work. So it's all the same. And I always like to work with people who are smarter and more talented than me, because not only can I learn something, but we get to make really great work. So it's no different [than music].

How do you feel like recently – as we talked about earlier – you've been doing things differently in everything you do? Where and how do you apply that?

Well, you asked me about my family, that's just what I do differently. But other than that, energy is everything, and so I just want the best energy in the room.

Simon Rasmussen: How do you conserve the energy within you, then?

That's an exercise. Self-preservation is that exercise. You have to work on it. There's no such thing as just doing it and checking a box. It's like everyday you have to do it. It's like humility. Humility is an exercise.

In my experience, you don’t come across as someone who is portrayed with a massive ego. With everything you’ve done it seems humility has been present. How do you practice humility? I know, personally, it takes a lot of work. And at your level, it must be much more.

You just got to remember that there's somebody on the corner who doesn't have a place to sleep and is struggling — and that person does what I do. All you gotta do is walk outside and up the block, and you will encounter someone who is talented in some manner, doing what I do 20 times daily. That's not lost on me.

So it’s about gratitude as well.

Absolutely, I always review my situation and recognize all the variables. So when a person says, "Man, I sold this many records." No, you didn't. That many people decided to stream your song. They didn't have to do that. Do you know how many great songs are in the minds of people on the street right now? How about how many great songs are in the minds of people doing job “A” when they really would love to do job “C.” Genius songs. The stars just didn’t line up. When you think about that, that's where gratitude, and humility, and empathy comes from for me. That’s it.

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Simon Rasmussen: With the position you're in, and the attention that follows, I imagine it’s easy to get caught up in the circus around it. To not be grateful and humble. Having that... it must be in front of your mind.

That's a good question and observation. Well, that's just like a pop star who was 14 years old and has been a pop star all their lives, and they're in their 30s now, and all they've ever heard is how fucking great they are. I never want to be that, because that's, like, not even understanding reality anymore.

How do you, or have you, become aware of that?

Because I'm a producer. I always had the benefit of stepping in and outside of the artist's trail of my own. I want to be in here. I don't want to be in here. I've always had the benefit of being able to do that.

And you get to choose the people that surround you, to a degree, I’m sure. 

It took many years to figure out that was important. Making those hard decisions.

Where do you feel like you've experienced failure, and how did you deal with that?

You know when you've failed? When you let a dumb decision dictate your life, that's true failure. Or when you’ve wasted your life doing a bunch of bullshit that you were raised to think was important, or someone said was important, and never really lived your purpose. That's failure. The rest are lessons. So many fucking lessons. Because you're human. So what – you wanna be on the right track? We fuck around, we fuck up, we waste time, but then you realize you're here for a purpose. If you stay loyal to that, it's cool. There still will be lessons, but they won't hurt as bad because your GPS is aligned with why the creator put you here. 

I mean, humility – the word itself – is rooted in humanity. The practice is just reminding yourself that you're human. A human among humans. That this isn't your universe.

I'm not 25. I'm not 35. I'm not 45. I'm about to be 50. You could be doing this shit with anyone. That's what I'm saying. You just look at everything that comes at you, taking yourself out of it, taking your ego out of it, and look at it for what it is.

Oh, even the acronym for ego is “Edging God Out.” How do you stay close to your faith?

I talk to God everyday. I pray everyday. I probably have one of the longest prayers of anyone I know. Even for food. When I pray, I pray for almost, like, 45 seconds.

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I need to get on that. I forget to, so what I do is, I put my cigarettes under my bed so I can get on my knees in the morning.

But I pray for good things for others. Some of my friends pray for their downfall. Like Pusha [laughs]. He loves some good old karma. I stay away from it.

Speaking of Pusha, when we did his interview, Pusha was talking a lot about how the thing that differentiates you from other people when it comes to your style, is the composition. You focus on composition. What does that mean — composition —to you? Is that just, like, classical?

I mean, it can be, but it's just like, it is the parts of a song. It's the components of a song. All the necessary parts.

How do you know when it's done?

It's a feeling. Does it make you want to hear it over and over again? Because here's the thing, a lot of songs now, they're more vibrations and more vibes. And you'll love it, and you'll listen to it over and over again for about a month, but after that, you're burned out. All the senses have their art forms. So, visual art, for the eyes; music for the ears; fragrances, olfactory; food, gustatory; feeling, esteem, right? And if you compare music to food, a vibe is more like one thing. So let's say, somebody said, "Hey, you eat meat? You eat meat?" Okay. Someone says, "Aw man there's this amazing steak. It's amazing, you got to have it." And so you go to have it, and all you really have is steak and a little bit of potato, but it's mostly steak. How many times do you want to eat that in a row? If it's really good, and you're crazy and a lunatic like me, you probably want to have it the next day too. If it's banging, you want to have it the next day. The third day, because you've convinced some other people to have it, it's kind of your last day.

Right? That's a vibe. And that's why they burn out so fast. Now, if you make a complete meal, and you eat that same amazing steak, you got like two different veggies, right? One is green. Then you have a little bit more potato, maybe some bread, maybe, and another side dish for two, you might have that meal three, four times that week because of its balance. That's the composition.

After you have some of your steak, you go to your potatoes, after your potatoes you have to go back to your broccoli, you go to your broccoli, you go back to your steak. After your steak, you take a drink, go back to your steak, have a little bit of whatever that side dish is, back to the broccoli, a little bit of mashed potato, go back to the steak. That's a composition. You have an intro, you have a verse, and you have a pre-hook that sets up the chorus, you go to the chorus, you go back down to your verse, pre, second chorus, bridge, or break, a little bit of the pre again, back to the hook, double hook. Now, that's a feeling. That's what happens with most songs that you've ever really loved. It's pretty much that you still go back to it. That's what it is.

And then with the vibes, it's like you love it while it's going on, and then if you're somebody that is into drugs or whatever, there might be a song you might want to play during your moments. Right? But it ain't everyday.

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Fast. So composition is very important, and that's what I was on him about. Because you got two things. You got to go into character, you got to stay in character. It’s like method acting… you got to stay in there. You can’t come out of it.

It's funny you say method acting, because when I saw him at the listening party, like most people at their listening parties will just kind of stand there. He literally acted out every song, literally like a theater kid. It was amazing.

See? It's important. Imagine your favorite actor not staying in character, and just being too cool for school. It's like, today it's just interesting to just be a street gangster or a shooter, and that's it. It's like, "Okay. Cool, I'm you." You know what I'm saying? That's why I love Kendrick. That's why I love 21. 21 stays in character.

And so as a producer you don't... do you go into character?

I morph. I kind of become what I wear. I don't know who I am. I'm a mirror. That's why my best work comes from when I'm standing beside somebody who's really talented. Talented and very vibrational. But I don't know what I am. If you put a mirror in front of another mirror, there's no image. That's me. I'm a mirror.

Simon Rasmussen: So who are you? Do you ask yourself that?

‘A boy has no name. I'm just kidding. I don't know. I don't know who I am. I've never known. The closest I could come to who I am are my principles because it always changes. I'm telling you, when I was doing GIRL, I was a different person. When I did Seeing Sounds, I was a different person. When I was doing, fucking, In My Mind: The Prequel mixtape, I was a different guy. I don't know who those people are. I know who they are, but I know I'm not that. I know who they are, those people are not in me now. I always change – because I'm kind of a method actor myself. And I just stumbled into these hiking boots and 1980s shorts and shit. I couldn't even tell you why I do it.

Well, it seems to be working for you.

The only thing I know is, I know God. It's all I know.

What’s wild is, I'm spiritual, but I'm not like really... I don't roll around talking about God all the time. It's just when you ask me certain questions I put all my shit aside. You get what I'm saying? But that's not my typical conversation.

Well, I'm happy to talk about it. 

I mean, it always comes out in interviews because they ask me these questions, and they expect me to say, "You know, when I was out there in the streets… I was out there doing this, and doing that, and I made it here.” But I made it here with the grace of God.

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An immersive tour diary by Colin Matsui, who accompanied Washington-born band Enumclaw — the self-proclaimed best band since Oasis— on their latest string of tour dates. This coming week, on October 14th, the band drops Save The Baby, their debut album and heads back out on the road in support of Illuminati Hotties. And after seeing them in action, on and off stage, we highly suggest you catch them this time around.

I’m home and DOOM’D after the week long buzz of tour. Our bodies are recovering from the exhaustion, but Aramis and I agree the symptoms are closer to a fresh breakup. You relive how things were just a week ago, you listen to songs that remind you of them. The nostalgia is immediate and new emotions emerge as you also try to find your traction with a new routine, struggling as you relearn time alone.

Post-tour life is the hard part; your day job doesn’t wait for you to readjust to the normalcy of home-life. For Aramis, that's asking if you have a preference of tequila with your beer; LaDaniel, thatʼs cooking a steak to your liking; Eli, bicycling you to your destination with a smile; and Nathan, screening your latest shirt.

Most of your anxieties from your daily life seem to fall away while out on the road.. You race to sustenance with the five minutes and two gas stations at your disposal. You’re not wasting time looking at Yelp reviews or taking extra time to split the check evenly; it’s grab and go and don’t be the last one out. It’s not luxurious but that van-ham-egg-and-cheese hits different.

Less familiarity. When you explore something new itʼs stimulating and energizing. A city, its food, the local venue's green room amenities. You never know what to expect and the mystery keeps you curious. When you return back home, you attach memories to places, residuals of the past that come with biased feelings. Sometimes it even feels like groundhogs day.

As we take our seats on the final flight from Brick City, Bellies full of Jersey pizza, The mandatory screaming child cues up tears as soon as he notices the lack of screens on the headrest in front of him: “I AM NOT OKAY”. We all feel that way sometimes, but more than anything, it's an example of how expectations and familiarity can set you up for disappointment. We laugh under our breath in surprisingly good spirits after a Newark airport delay that kept us at our gate for five hours.

“Are you guys like a rock skate band?” Asks the crying kid's dad. He claims that he also used to skate and snowboard, all to the dismay of his wife, sitting next to Aramis. Eli offers the kid a shirt and he lights up like a fucking Christmas tree.

Sometimes, we all just need a little disruption in our lives to brighten the day.

Less options of music to choose from; drivers choice. Less time to think about the future. Doom today's performance and get to the next venue; that's all that matters.

Less self centered thinking. When you're with the band for 7 days you have to be considerate. You gain a community in return. Seven thousand randoms and the same five youʼve come to always count on. Toro [y Moi] and They Hate Change are super chill and dealing with the same circumstances we all are. It's like a music summer camp curated by Chaz himself, sans Donkey Lips and public humiliation.

You sleep wherever thereʼs space and whenever thereʼs time. Hotel floors and pass-through living rooms; Blankets and pillows optional, fleas and AC as well. The temperature breaks three digits with east coast humidity drizzled on top. Despite all of this, I sleep better on the road than from my bedroom and king size bed thatʼs big enough for the whole band plus luggage. I’m even falling asleep on the couch at home now. TV is trying to replace the feeling and exhaustion that a day’s end on the road brings and I’m unsatisfied.

We now miss the Deez nuts jokes in the legless middle seat; No more chugging pedialyte or instruments cramping your feet. Instead of billboards or skylines moving through my eyeline from the van window, I scroll and binge the world from my living room couch. With as much personal space as I could ask for, I find myself wanting less.

In the days leading up to my meeting with Izzy Spears, I was told several times that I was “in for a treat.” Now, as I find myself stationed in the dimly-lit lobby area of the Brooklyn building he’s staying at, it’s difficult to tell whether this was a word of encouragement or a warning.

Spears’ in-your-face (literally), ruthlessly provocative mystique has grown to be such an integral part of his aesthetic makeup, that by the time you make it to the door (if you manage to get that far), the already-potent I-don’t-know-what-I’m-in-for anxiety has hardened into something molten, and it’s bound to begin to show. It’s exactly this that Kendre Swinton, Spears’ longtime friend-slash-manager, must be picking up on, when — standing across from me in the foyer with a mischievous grin — he asks me to make my best guess as to what Spears is like in person.

Necklace R13, bracelets MARTINE ALI and BERNARD JAMES

Spears’ music, a primary focus of his over the past few months, is cut from a similar cloth to his unforgiving aesthetic. In the two singles he’s released in tandem with Shayne Oliver’s Anonymous Club, his voice rattles into a growl, yelling itself hoarse through half-threatening, half-obscure mantras like “hold my motherfucking cock,” on Hollywood Meltdown, or “all these n***as are bleeding out,” on Bleedinout. He performs on stage with the same high-energy, punk-informed hardcore penchant that defines his public-facing persona — whether donning a mohawk and a leather jacket, or spaghetti straps and a skirt, everything comes out of him in grand, roaring fashion, leaving only the question I’m sweating in this Brooklyn high-rise to hopefully find an answer to: what is “everything”? With my only hints being his obscurely glorious, carnal creative footprint, I have just as many leads now as when I didn’t know who Izzy Spears even was.

Moments after Swinton gets the question off, a teasing whistle comes from the top of a winding staircase, and it looks like it’s time for answers. Today, Spears is fresh off of an international tour with Yves Tumor, a frequent collaborator now helping him to piece together his upcoming debut musical project. For all it seems, the non-stop work isn’t near finished. When Swinton and I are led to an expansive, sunlit suite, we’re greeted by a pair of studio headphones sprawled out on a cowskin rug, a switched-off TV, and Spears’ spiked leather boots, which lay glamorous claim to the sense that, although the tour is over, the show must go on. Even the pets are busy — for most of our interview, a rugged black cat is intently swiping away at doomed houseflies on a window.

For a proven multi-hyphenate like Spears, being a busybody is somewhat on-brand. At 24, he’s been handpicked by Shayne Oliver to take part in the aforementioned creative powerhouse Anonymous Club, and mastered a raucous stage presence as unnerving as it is enticing. These days, he’s on to the next challenge — his first ever sonic release — and although he throws me a simple “no,” when I ask him if he’s scared of anything, it isn’t as though the road ahead is a certain one. On a humid Friday morning in June, Spears opens up about people’s opinions of him (spoiler alert: he doesn’t care), motivation, and the art of just doing it.

Jacket and Pants Y/PROJECTS, Shoes BOBBY DAY NYC, Headpiece and Mask STYLIST’S OWN

Samuel Hyland – Post-tour, can we do an existential check-in? Where is Izzy at in life right now?

Izzy Spears – Resting, but also, the work hasn’t stopped. I’m doing Boiler Room, I’m doing this [interview], I have a studio session, [and] right when we leave, I have to go around the corner to work on my set… so, yeah. I’m just more ready than ever to put my project out. We’ve been working on shit for months. I’ve been working on this EP since November. Been working on videos, working on a bunch of shit. So I’m just ready to put it out and go to the next step, which is touring some more. I’m super tired, but I feel like I haven’t earned a full vacation yet.

“Earned”… that’s interesting. What do you feel like you have to do to “earn” a full vacation?

Reach my goals. I skipped a couple levels. My EP’s not out, I haven’t been on a [headline] tour — those are all goals. But I think the main goal is just feeling the accomplished feeling of putting out my first project, and living my project. That’s, like, the main goal. And even after it comes out, I feel like more goals will open up. So I’m not really planning, or seeing, a vacation moment in my future anytime soon. Not next year.

Necklace R13, bracelets HANREJ and MARTINE ALI

You have a lot of avenues that you release creativity in. Did they all kind of come around the same time, or did they each grow as you came into your own as a creative? 

IS – My brother had a rap group when I was a kid, and I was always writing raps to try and get him to let me in the group. He never did. But I started making music in high school with a couple of friends. As I got older, I started throwing parties called the ‘House of Lotus’ in Atlanta. Once I started curating those parties, people started asking me to help with casting. [From] that, production opportunities came up, and I started working on sets. As I got more experienced, I took a break from music and started working on production, and managing someone else, and then casting. And then last year, or the year before that, I just completely stopped casting to work on music. For the first year, it was just trying to figure out who would take me seriously enough. And then Anonymous Club came through, and we worked on a couple singles. But Anonymous Club was working on multiple projects with multiple artists, and there wasn’t enough focus on me specifically. So I took it upon myself to leave and go to LA, and just get away from everything I was doing. As soon as I got there, I started hanging out with Yves [Tumor] a lot more, and he put me in the face of all my producers now, and everyone who’s helping me. Things started happening as I got older, but since I was younger, I knew. I dropped out in the tenth grade. I checked out in the seventh grade. Not that I knew it was gonna happen, but I knew that this was the direction I was going in. I got face tattoos as insurance. Like, I’m not ever gonna be no cashier, or at a desk, or some shit like that. So it’s like I have to… not like I have to, but just ensuring that I’m going to follow this route. Kind of like forcing myself to achieve what I want.

Shirt TELFAR, Jeans WILLY CHAVARRIA, Shoes BOBBY DAY NYC, Necklaces HANREJ and MARTINE ALI, Bracelets MARTINE ALI; Top YOUTHS IN BALACLAVA, Shorts DIESEL, Boots HOOD BY AIR, Jewelry MARTINE ALI

You mentioned feeling like you weren’t being taken seriously, and I wonder if that’s still true to an extent?

Yes and no. I mean, I’m doing it. I’m doing everything I set my mind to. Whether I’m being taken seriously or not, I’m gonna do it still. For now, if you aren’t gonna take me seriously, I’m just gonna go somewhere else and find the people that believe in it for real.

Is it your goal at any level to be taken seriously?

I don’t give a shit if you take me seriously. It’s not really a goal. I feel like wanting people to take you seriously – and for that to be a goal – defeats the purpose of doing it for yourself. You can miss the train, but we goin’.

In that case, how much would you say your music is for you, and how much would you say it’s for your consumers?

Well, this EP specifically is very cryptic and very personal. It’s all for me. I love all the songs. They’re not Anonymous Club songs, so maybe they’re not what people are fully expecting. But it is fully, fully personal. Personal, but designed for consumers.

If you could choose between hating the record and having it sell, or loving the record and having it flop…

[Laughs] The charts. Money. I could keep making shit for me all the time. But I want to make hits. I want to be a pop star. A lot of people want to be cool, and they want to make cool music that their friends would love — and that’s cool, I want to make music that my friends would love — but there’s a goal to be successful. And you can define success in different ways, but my version of success is charts… endorsements… money.

At least you admit it.

I’m not ashamed of it. I come from dirt poor. Mom got eight kids. All of us in the same house, by ourselves. I want to get her out. It could be for fun and all that stuff, but I’m a grown-ass man. I gotta eat.

You’re two different people, on-stage versus IRL. How does that interplay work? IS – Before I get on stage, I get nervous, so literally right before, I’m just like “Oh, you have to go out there.” You go out there, what are you gonna do, choke on stage? Be like, “Oh my God,” and run off? You have to just do this shit. You have to do it, and you have to do it to your fullest capacity. Once I get on, I kind of just let go. Whatever People are gonna love it, people are gonna hate it that got me going crazy, I kind of just let go of it all, because I have to do this right now. Everything just comes out in whatever way. It comes out in that moment because the adrenaline kicks in, and I’m taken by the adrenaline.

What is the “everything” that comes out?

All the energy. And just being a performer. Even though I may dress a certain way, it’s a fucking show. You can be the outfit. You can embody the thing. You can’t just go on stage in a fucking skirt and a mohawk and be like, “Um… this next one is called…” Nah. It all comes out.

Jacket, Shirt and Tie BURBERRY

How much is the outfit an extension of you, and how much is it a “Jekyll and Hyde” situation? Like another brain that’s working against the version of you that wants to blend in?

My look is a really big part of me. That’s why no matter where I go, people are always saying something to me. That’s why when I miss, I’m like, “Oh, I need to change,” or, “I need to go,” because I don’t feel represented. It is a really big extension, the outfit. I mean, I could still give the show naked. A lot of my look, Izzy Spears, is naked anyway. It’s not like a must, but it is an important part of my look to have the accessory, or the little peek-a-boo piece, the little take-off reveal, you know what I’m saying? It’s all part of it. I like to show layers of myself. Sometimes I’d go out in a full trade fit, big baggy, and other times I’m going to wear a skirt and a little fucking spaghetti-strap tank top. It’s all the same message in the music regardless — it’s masculine, it’s feminine, it’s whatever.

That version [of me] is always present in my head, but I never show it. There was an interview where Rihanna was asked, “What do you do if you’re just not feeling it?” And she was like, “Fake it, bitch. Act like you’re feeling it, the fuck?” That’s pretty much the concept there. I won’t always feel like, “Yah-yah, but I look like it.” It’s not something super intentional every day, because it’s just me, the way I dress, whatever the fuck comes out. It’s just who I am. I’m always going to look the way I look. Unless I burn my whole wardrobe and start over.

Something you mentioned earlier was about having checked out of school in seventh grade, and actually having left in the tenth grade. What was that time between seventh and tenth like? What led up to you–

[Laughs] Weed. And just being a fucking hooligan. Skipping school, selling weed, doing bad stuff, not being gay. Not like, being straight, but just pretending that I wasn’t gay. Doing every retarded thing I could think of that would draw the attention away from me being gay. I was really figuring out that I was gay, but trying to fight against it in every way possible. Selling drugs… hitting licks… partying every day… doing a bunch of drugs.

When did you stop trying to fight being gay? 

Seventeen. I was high on Xanax. Me and my friends, six boys, six girls, we were all at the house just talking. And they were like, “Oh, she likes you, you aren’t fucking with her? On Xanax, you just don’t give a fuck about anything. So I just said it: “I’m not fucking her, I’m gay!” And then I got too excited, and I got on Facebook, I wrote a long-ass paragraph, I sent it to my sisters, and then the next morning I woke up, not remembering anything, got on Facebook, had thirteen messages. I was like, “What the fuck?” My whole family was going crazy. So I didn’t really consciously choose. It was fully a surprise.

KENDRE SWINTON – [Laughs] Going crazy. What does that mean?

They were just tripping. They were like, “Oh, I can’t believe this.” Now, everybody’s super happy for me. But yeah, like seventeen. I could have been like, “Oh no, my friends did that, they’re assholes,” but I was just like, “Shit, it’s literally now or never. You’re gay. Get over it.” It was just too much drama going on. Too many rumors. I was like, I haven’t been [in the house] for three years, I don’t have to be here, so I’m not going to be here.

Necklaces HANREJ and MARTINE ALI, bracelets MARTINE ALI

And you never went back?

Have there been any challenges in recording the new EP?

Just being patient. I didn’t want to put the EP out just to drop it on SoundCloud, or put it through DistroKid, or something like that. What I wanted was a very cohesive, very industry-proper way of doing things. Then I guess another challenge was just… I do think about putting myself out there, and how it’s going to be received. Just being real on the track, and not taking anything out, or being worried about being too vulnerable, or saying too much, or people being able to piece what I’m saying into moments in my life. It was a challenge to just let that shit go. Put it out. Write it. Most of the hardship comes from breaking mental barriers.

How do you normally address challenges?

Just doing it. I could sit there and dwell on it. But if I am dwelling on it, I’m thinking of a solution, and most of the time, the solution is just doing it.

You’ve done a lot of work the past few months. Touring, then jumping straight into finishing your EP. Does it feel any different when the work is for you, and not for someone else?

I’ve done a lot of work for other people. This is my first music project. As soon as you finish a job for someone else and it’s done, it’s like, What’s the next job? Working for myself doesn’t end. As soon as the EP’s done, there’s more to do. I think that’s the biggest difference. I don’t see an ending. There’s not an ending point, or a final payout, or next thing.

Creativity is something you never really retire from. With a lot of artists, you can never buy it when they say they’ve retired from music. Is it like that for you? Full-time all the time?

Yeah. Even if I stopped doing music for a little bit, it would be something else for sure. I mean now that I’m doing music, I feel like it will be able to open up different opportunities and avenues for different work. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Even if I take a break or something, it would be another project happening.

Do you want there to be an ending?

Not yet. I mean, obviously eventually. But no. Not really. I could perform for a long time. I’ve got a lot more of that left in me. I don’t see an ending anytime soon.

Necklaces HANREJ and MARTINE ALI, Bracelets MARTINE ALI, Cuffs R13, Underwear CALVIN KLEIN

They did everything to make a n***a turn from god not knowing every n***a is a god. Perception? We never see ourselves until we’re left staring naked in the mirror; dick limp. It wasn’t the alcohol but it wasn't him either.. Often am I perceived as “aloof” by the men I don’t want in my life or have ditch ed. I am the opposite of whatever a steady fuck is, they assume. What I conceal from you enables my evolution. First n***a through the door always got a key, but I left it open and I want to be touched.

I regret everything I left in the closet. I gained myself respect after I tossed everyone else’s morals on self-esteem and now everyone’s so proud of Izzy. Now everybody want a piece of Izzy. But I'm not for those looking for a thin slice.

Sacrificing religion to get to the finish line, my Mohel knew I was destined for greatness. Raw is law. Too many half asses out here and i aint one unless im over the kitchen sink. To be understood, is never to be expected. My duality of man; my masculine, my feminine. We have both and I use my chromosomes. To my dear ones, I’m known as Isaac. Benyamin is my family name, it’s better than a Welsh last name. My last name might suggest I’m not one of Europe’s black possessions, but, heard by the wrong Ashkenazi and he’ll be quick to remind me I'm no African prince, either. The key to a tale is to be found in who tells it. Still n***a.

IZZY wears Shirt TELFAR, Jeans WILLY CHAVARRIA, Shoes BOBBY DAY NYC, Necklaces HANREJ and MARTINE ALI, Bracelets MARTINE ALI, glasses FLATLIST; LEFT wears Shorts BRYAN JIMENEZ; MIDDLE wears Shorts WILLY CHAVARRIA

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