Kylie Minogue certainly knows her way around an infectious dance pop bop. Look no further than the wild and campy "Padam Padam" — the lead single to her upbeat new album Tension, which arrives Sept. 22. 

It's the song of the summer that a large segment of Americans didn't even know about. In the U.S., the song reached No. 7 on Billboard's Hot Dance/Electronic chart. In the U.K., it was a No. 1 pop hit that the radio wouldn't play — a move that the song's writers, and Kylie herself, consider to be ageist (and sexist, because they do play David Guetta, who is also 55).

Yet when "Padam Padam" dropped this spring, it was an immediate hit within the LGBTQ+ community. "Padam" became a greeting, a verb, an adjective, and the inspiration for many, many memes.

A select handful of shimmering pop stars from every generation are adopted by the LGBTQ+ community (among them, Grace Jones, Cher and Beyoncé), and Kylie has maintained her status as a pop queen and gay icon for decades. It's something Kylie doesn’t take for granted, and she is deeply appreciative of the loyal support of the gay community.

"It's hugely important to me and so touching," Kylie recently told GRAMMY.com when we asked what their support means to her. "It's very genuine — long-standing mutual respect, support and love."

The second lead single and title track, "Tension," is another sexy dance pop banger, with a joyful piano house tilt. On it, she confidently encourages her lover to make her feel good while simultaneously reminding the world of her popstar status: "I'm a star babe-babe-babe / Do this all day-day-day."

The two lead singles showcase the vibe of the playful, upbeat album. Yet Tension, Kylie explains, had no theme. Instead, the album offered a space to be free in the music-making process with her beloved regular collaborators, Biff Stannard and Duck Blackwell.

Tension follows 2020's DISCO, a glittering pandemic album dedicated to the dancefloor and the genre it’s named after. DISCO: Guest List Edition continued the funky shimmer with remixes with fellow disco-loving pop artists (who she's inspired) Jessie Ware and Dua Lipa, along with disco legend Gloria Gaynor and nu disco champ Purple Disco Machine.

Back in 1988, a 20-year-old Kylie released her eponymous debut album, featuring her debut global hit single "Locomotion." Since making that first big splash, she's remained dedicated to the art of dance pop, dropping an album every couple of years. Her eighth studio album, 2001's Fever, made synthy waves around the globe, and its lead single "Can't Get You Out of My Head" remains her most memorable song. Fever's equally catchy "Love At First Sight" and "Come Into My World" were nominated for Best Dance Recording at the 45th and 46th GRAMMY Awards, respectively.

For those who somehow forgot about Kylie, or only know her as the "Can't Get You Out of My Head" singer, or were born after 2001, it’s the perfect time to allow her nearly endless catalog of dance pop jams to padam into your heart. The sessions that led to Tension began as Kylie's personal sonic escape, and now she's offering those 11 playful tunes for us to move our bodies to and maybe even make our own.

Ahead of the Tension's release, GRAMMY.com caught up with the Australian pop queen about its music and how it came together. Sometimes, when you get a short interview slot with a pop star, they repeat canned answers or avoid offering up too many details. Not Kylie. She gave thorough and thoughtful answers, demonstrating her care and love for the music she makes, her fans, and pop music itself.

Tension is filled with upbeat songs about joy and pleasure. What was your vision for this project and how did the songs make you feel?

Initially, there wasn't a vision. [Chuckles.] I just really wanted to feel. This was early 2021, so, COVID's still present and there were these windows where I can go to my happy place and be in the studio with one of my favorite collaborators. And if nothing came of it professionally, we love each other and we love to make music together. There was a gentle meander into that space. Maybe a couple months after that, I agreed with my label that, "Okay, this is happening, we're gonna make an album."

My previous album [2020's DISCO] was made largely in lockdown. It's like wanting to run out into the field and just going, Yes, I want to start fresh. No more lockdown videos, none of that stuff. I really wanted new material, vibrancy. And we ended up getting it.

There was a point where we were talking about the album thematically having a kind of '80s entrance point, but it just wasn't hitting the mark so we abandoned all that. I think the turning point for the album was the decision that there's no theme — go in, have fun. My A&R said to me, almost as an aside, "Just go in, write songs. Do a Kylie song." We know kind of what that is, but actually doing it's another matter. 

And he said, "As long as it's not boring." That's actually not the worst advice. Yes, you want it to be amazing and moving, or escapism or whatever, but I think we can safely say that we did our best to make sure it's not boring.

It's quite eclectic. I think you can feel that [sense of] feeling liberated with not having a theme and not being afraid to self-reference, either — '80s, '90s, '00s. And I ended up in a good space personally at the end of this album. In a year and a half, a lot happens, so there's moments in the album that attest to that. A strong DNA of my music is, even if it's a challenging subject or emotion, it remains hopeful.

I love that. I was reading that the album was recorded over five days or so in an Airbnb.

Not all of it, but a really important chunk of it. [Biff Stannard has] a perfectly amazing basement studio in which many hits for various artists have been written. It's a pleasure to be there, but we really wanted to have our own writing camp. Because of his phobia of flying, we agreed, "Okay, we can do South of France. You can take the ferry." I can't tell you how many places I looked at online that didn't work. It just got too complicated, so we ended up going about 40 minutes from where he lives.

We achieved what we hoped we would achieve. It was so glorious. Me, Bick, Biff, Duck [Blackwell], Jon Green, and another engineer. We woke up and talked about music. We had breakfast and talked about music. It was just all day, amazing love and creativity. We all had this sensation that it was a special time. "Tension" and "Things We Do For Love" were written on the same day, so we were jumping from different genres, different feelings.

It would be a shame to not talk about "Padam Padam." The gay community went super hard for "Padam" and made it a pride anthem. What does having the support of the queer community and being celebrated as a gay icon mean to you?

It's hugely important to me and so touching. It's a difficult one to unpack — I'm always asked, "How did you become a gay icon?" I don't have the answer. I don't want the answer. It's very genuine — long-standing mutual respect, support and love. 

It came to me many, many years ago. I can only imagine that the community saw something in me that made sense to them. I mean, I've had my own kind of struggles when I was starting out of being accepted in my field, which is very different to one's sexuality. But yeah, they pretty much adopted me. 

I hope that for that community and beyond, I just want to say I am open-minded and I want people to be happy in themselves. That community needed support and still needs support. I'm here. And they padamed for me. 

I had another question about "Padam" — 

My favorite meme. 

Which one? 

I don't know. There's so many. 

When you first heard the demo for "Padam Padam" what did you think? What was your reaction? 

Love. Absolutely loved. I know where I was, where I was sitting, what I was doing. I was getting glammed up for something in Miami. When they're outside songs — separate to songs that I'm involved with writing — it's always an exciting moment. My A&R sends me something and says, "Hey, what do you think of this?" I have no idea what to expect. In that moment, there's before and after, if it's a good moment. 

So already the title was intriguing; I already knew the Édith Piaf song "Padam Padam." Straightaway, I was in. At first, I couldn't understand every lyric, so I listened again and was like that is really, really clever. I called Jamie straightaway, "Yes, yes. I love it. I think it's great on its own, but what's more, I think it’s perfect for me. When can I get my vocals on it?" And the rest, as they say, is history. 

The thing with "Padam" is that it fed itself, it just kind of powered itself. The closest it would remind me of is "Can't Get You Out Of My Head," where it just took off like a rocket. I'm almost like a bystander. "Oh, Padam? Where have you gone?" It's utterly enthralling to watch that unfold in front of my very eyes from day one to day two, and still happening now.

 Did you have any idea that it would be received in the way that it was? 

Who could predict that? Who would even dare to dream of that? I finally get TikTok. Yes, I've been slow but I finally am there. Honestly, it took all of us by surprise. And I think it's telling that now I think opening myself up to that community and having that relationship will be fruitful in the future and I hope to continue having fun with that. But I think in that initial moment, they decided — you know, the grand they. It was really organic. I don't think you can force that. It happened and I loved every second of it.

Korean Pop & Film Star D.O. Exceeds 'Expectation' On New EP

The Britpop movement first gathered pace in 1993 — its pure optimism, laddish mentality, and colorful Union Jack aesthetic an attractive proposition for those who couldn't relate to the alienation and angst that defined grunge. Drawing from the classic guitar music of the 1960s, it was also steeped in nostalgia, and, perhaps more notably, a fervent belief that anything the Americans could do, the Brits could do better.

Unsurprisingly, the deeply patriotic scene didn't travel too well: only a handful of acts, most notably Oasis and Blur, made any notable impact across the Atlantic during its four-year golden period. On home turf, however, Britpop defined the zeitgeist, turning the London town of Camden into the nation's cultural hub, sweeping up everyone from future Prime Minister Tony Blair to sheep-preserving artist Damien Hirst, and sparking a chart battle so intense it made the BBC's Six O'Clock News.

And it continues to resonate. Oasis' Liam Gallagher and Stone Roses' John Squire recently topped the UK album chart with their collaborative self-titled LP. The middle episodes of Netflix's must-watch romantic drama One Day is heavily soundtracked by the scene's finest. And Dua Lipa recently cited its two biggest bands — as well as Britpop-adjacent acts Radiohead, Massive Attack, and Primal Scream — as a key influence on her new album Radical Optimism.

With the catalyst for Britpop's domination, Blur's Parklife, recently celebrating its 30th anniversary, what better time to look back at its finest contributions. Ignoring any acts that sat on the outskirts (like Manic Street Preachers or Saint Etienne), or who broke through post-1997 (see Catatonia, Embrace), and sticking to just one track per artist, here's a look at 10 songs that embodied the term Cool Britannia.

Oasis — "Live Forever"

How do you choose from the era's two biggest blockbusters, 1994's record-breaking Definitely Maybe and 1995's (What's The Story) Morning Glory? "Wonderwall" is by far Oasis most recognizable hit, "Cigarettes and Alcohol" summed up the Mancunians' hard-partying ethos in five glorious rock and roll minutes, and "Don't Look Back in Anger" remains the scene's greatest Beatles pastiche. And then there's game-changing single "Supersonic," orchestral sing-along "Whatever," and the truly epic "Champagne Supernova."

But it's the aptly titled "Live Forever," the third single from the Gallagher brothers' near-flawless debut, which has weathered the best. Showcasing the elongated delivery that would become his forte, Liam delivers both an all-time great vocal and a positive meditation that essentially serves as a Britpop manifesto. And unlike on the more bloated Oasis albums to come, Noel's wall of guitar sounds here is anthemic, evocative and downright thrilling.

Blur — "Girls and Boys"

The audience at this year's Coachella might not be particularly familiar with Blur's "Girls and Boys," much to frontman Damon Albarn's annoyance (it did only peak at No.59 on the Hot 100 30 years previously, to be fair). But anyone old enough to remember the spring of 1994 across the pond will know every word.

Ironically, one of the defining Britpop anthems has Mediterranean roots. It was inspired by the Brits-abroad debauchery that the scene's ultimate power couple, Albarn and Elastica frontwoman Justine Frischmann, witnessed during a vacation in Spain. And with its self-described "disco drums, nasty guitars, and Duran Duran bass," Parklife's gender-fluid, multilingual ("You get nasty blisters/ Du bist sehr schön"), and insanely infectious lead single was tailor-made to soundtrack such dance floor hedonism.

Pulp — "Common People"

Pulp had been plugging away on the fringes of the UK's indie scene since the late 1970s, but had to wait until the Britpop explosion to progress beyond cult concern. After making their long-awaited breakthrough with 1994's His N Hers, the Sheffield outfit then joined the big league with Mercury Prize-winning 1995 follow-up Different Class and an instant classic lead single that established eccentric frontman Jarvis Cocker as the scene's ultimate satirist.

As referenced by Rosamund Pike's prime suspect in Saltburn, "Common People" was inspired by a real-life barroom encounter with a privileged art student with ambitions of roughing it with the lower class simply for fun. Cocker initially indulges the unnamed woman in the hope of some bedroom action. But he eventually admonishes her lust for social voyeurism over an exhilarating flurry of guitars, violins and erm stylophones. A true one-off.

Supergrass — "Alright"

Although the impressive sideburns suggested otherwise, Supergrass — aka frontman Gaz Coombes, bassist Mick Quinn, and drummer Danny Goffey — were only on the cusp of adulthood when they released their debut album, 1995's I Should Coco. And saving the best until the last, its fifth single brilliantly encapsulated their youthful exuberance.

Just ask Steven Spielberg. After seeing the video for "Alright," where the trio get up to various japes while traveling across North Wales on a king size bed, the director propositioned the band with a The Monkees-esque TV show, an offer politely declined. The song itself, which did enjoy a taste of Hollywood as part of the Clueless soundtrack, is similarly mischievous, combining jaunty piano riffs and summery surf guitars with joyous tales of teenage kicks ("Got some cash, bought some wheels/ Took it out 'cross the fields/ Lost control, hit a wall/ But we're alright").

Suede — "Trash"

The lure of the Britpop world was so impossible to resist that even Suede, a band renowned for their sexual ambiguity, animalistic art rock, and odes to the seedier side of life, eventually jumped on board. Indeed, while their self-titled debut and equally nihilistic follow-up Dog Man Star had seemed designed for wallowing in student bedsits, third album Coming Up was a far more celebratory affair primed for the indie disco.

The unlikely blockbuster, recorded in the wake of guitarist Bernard Butler's departure in 1994, spawned five consecutive UK Top 10 hits, the most immediate of which was lead single "Trash." An outsider anthem written about the band itself ("Oh maybe, maybe it's the clothes we wear/ The tasteless bracelets and the dye in our hair/ Maybe it's our kookiness"), the David Bowie-esque glam rocker instantly made you want to become an honorary member of Brett Anderson's gang.

The Bluetones — "Slight Return"

As with Suede and Pulp, London-four piece The Bluetones didn't automatically fit into the Britpop landscape. Mark Morriss was at the more unassuming end of the frontman spectrum, his tender, softly-sung voice a far cry from the more boorish delivery of Gallagher, Albarn, et al. And their sound owed just as much to the jangly guitar pop of Teenage Fanclub and melodic songcraft of Squeeze as the Fab Four.

But their debut album, 1996's Expecting to Fly — which knocked (What's The Story) Morning Glory? off the UK top spot — proved that the Cool Britannia era wasn't entirely averse to something a little more sensitive. Flagship single "Slight Return" (very nearly a British chart-topper, too), was undeniably its piece-de-resistance, its intimate verses and propulsive, life-affirming chorus neatly encapsulating their everyman charm.

Babybird — "You're Gorgeous"

Perhaps Britpop's most misunderstood classic, Babybird's "You're Gorgeous" isn't a declaration of undying love tailor made for a first dance. As countless newlyweds may be horrified to learn, it's the tale of a creepy photographer sweet-talking his models into suggestive poses ("You took an instamatic camera/ And pulled my sleeves around my heart") with the false promise of worldwide fame.

Also featured in Saltburn (on this occasion, musically), the feminist statement briefly turned Stephen Jones' one-man-band into a major chart force — "Don't Look Back in Anger" was the only Britpop song to sell more in 1996. Although it proved to be something of a one-hit wonder, its subversive themes and bittersweet melodies — reminiscent of Echo and Bunnymen at their commercial peak — have aged far more gracefully than most of Britpop's more straightforward serenades.

Elastica — "Connection"

There was a brief moment in 1995 when Justine Frischmann looked as though she would equal, or even eclipse, the success of her then-boyfriend Damon Albarn. Elastica's self-titled debut album reached No. 1 in the UK, becoming the second fastest-selling ever in the process. And it reached a creditable No.66 on the Billboard 200, a chart which had completely eluded Blur.

Even so, thanks to a combination of crippling drug addiction, constant lineup changes, and lost momentum, Elastica's reign proved to be short-lived. Still, they'll always have one of the scene's greatest singles runs, encompassing "Stutter," "Line-Up," "No More Heroes," and their biggest US hit, "Connection." The latter also boasts the scene's greatest intro, a ferocious ball of energy which includes squalling synths, guttural grunts, and a primitive guitar riff brazenly borrowed from Wire's "Three Girl Rhumba." Britpop never sounded more explosive.

Ocean Colour Scene — "The Day We Caught the Train"

Occupying the same unapologetically retro space as Cast, The Boo Radleys, and the Godfather of Britpop Paul Weller, Ocean Colour Scene were never one of the scene's most fashionable bands. But breakthrough album Moseley Shoals' mix of '60s rock, mod, and Northern Soul spawned two undeniable classics.

Firstly, there was "The Riverboat Song," a triumphant pastiche of Led Zeppelin's "Four Sticks" that became the walk-on music for Chris Evans' zeitgeist-defining TV show TFI Friday. And then the Birmingham four-piece delivered the even more majestic "The Day We Caught the Train," a nostalgic ode to escapism ("You and I should ride the coast/ And wind up in our favorite coats just miles away") complete with a carefree sun-soaked video that foreshadowed the good vibes of Summer '96. Who cares about being cool anyway?

The Verve — "Bitter Sweet Symphony"

The general consensus is that Britpop died the day Oasis released their self-indulgent third album Be Here Now in August 1997. Released just two months beforehand, The Verve's crowning glory, therefore, was something of a last hurrah, a lush orchestral affair that briefly transformed a bunch of unsung psychedelic rockers into Britain's biggest band.

"Bitter Sweet Symphony" was famously built on a sample of Andrew Loog Oldham's version of The Rolling Stones' "The Last Time"; the band were forced to relinquish all royalties as a result. But there's more to the urban hymn than those sweeping strings — its emphatic beats, for one thing, Richard Ashcroft's vocal swagger for another. Let's not forget the iconic Hoxton Street video where Ashcroft displayed a staggering unawareness of personal space. The second highest-charting Britpop track Stateside (No. 12 on the Hot 100) and only the second to receive a GRAMMY nod, too, "Bittersweet Symphony" was  a majestic Britpop send-off.

Dua Lipa's Road To 'Radical Optimism': How Finding The Joy In Every Moment Helped Her Become Pop's Dance Floor Queen

Given that Beatport Chief Community Officer Sofia Ilyas has dedicated the last 15 years or so of her life supporting burgeoning artists, subgenres and underrepresented groups, it's somewhat surprising that she grew up in a household without music.

As a teen, a Sony Walkman with a radio and mixtapes featuring the likes of Radiohead were a lifeline to a world Ilyas' family didn't want her to participate in. She was even kept home during school field trips to the National Gallery museum in London, where she's since hosted her Piano Day music and art event, and will soon be curating a room for their 200th anniversary celebration.

Ilyas has had to sacrifice a lot — namely, a relationship with her strict Muslim family — to carve out a career in music, and hers is a story of patience and resilience. After leaving her home in Cardiff, Wales for London to pursue higher education (against her family's wishes), she found solace and connection in live music. She'd hang out around the sound booth and introduce herself and ask questions about how things worked. Slowly but surely, she befriended people that worked at labels and venues, and even artists — Four Tet grew to know her by name after she kept coming back to his shows.

After years of being a part of the London scene as a dedicated fan, at age 30, Ilyas became co-manager of indie record label Erased Tapes, where she helped popularize neoclassical music and one of its purveyors, experimental German pianist Nils Frahm. Alongside Frahm, Ilyas launched Piano Day, where a diverse range of artists help them celebrate the past, present and future of the instrument alongside contemporary dancers and painters.

Now, as the first Chief Community Officer at major dance music platform Beatport, Ilyas is building community within and across disparate global electronic communities. She aims to bring more women and people of color into the mix.

"We're living in a time where people are feeling incredibly lonely and disconnected from community," Ilyas tells GRAMMY.com. "I [want to] facilitate people to come in to hear from each other, especially women, in a room that feels safe to hold discussion."

GRAMMY.com recently caught up with Ilyas for an insightful, engaging conversation on her work to support women and people of color in electronic music, making piano cool, her hopes for a more equitable music industry, and much more.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

You recently hosted your Piano Day annual events in Melbourne and London — tell me your vision for Piano Day.

When we launched Piano Day in London with Nils [Frahm], it gave me an excuse to try my own events. I had the artists performing in different corners of the room and a painter in the middle, watching and being inspired. I've always looked at different arts and wondered why they can't also be present in the music world and why we can't support each other across various industries. I've had a contemporary dancer at almost every event I've done in London. Piano Day was my way of having my own event that I could own and really show off my curation. Even with the first event, people were saying the space was beautiful and the curation was so good. I felt really validated.

[For Piano Day,] I always ask artists what they can do that's a little bit different, beyond performing their album or recent EP. I had one artist who had never played piano before, and he made a few mistakes and everyone was applauding him like it's okay. It's really important to me that Piano Day offers something that maybe the audience will never see again and they feel they've experienced something very special. An even bigger extension of that is the lineup that I curate for the National Gallery; coupling a piano player with a dancer who had never met before, and multiple artists only ever played piano maybe three times. I love that the artists have felt safe to trust me and that it's the type of event where they can take a risk.

I'm always looking for acts that are open to trying something a bit different and to be challenged by the fact that it's solo piano predominantly. And to also be inspired by the space, the National Gallery is such a prestigious, iconic venue. It's quite an unusual event because you've got people who've come to see the artists and regular visitors who have just come to see the paintings and they happen to stumble across what's happening. What's even more special for me is the audience is full of children. [I've been wondering] how we can do more music events that kids can come to, because I saw how inspired they were.

You'll be returning to the National Gallery in May to help curate their 200th anniversary event. How are you thinking about everything it stands for while bringing it into the future with music and women and people of color?

I've always had an attachment to the Gallery because there were school trips to it and my parents would never let me go. So for them to email me, "Hey, we've been to a couple of your events, would you like to bring Piano Day to the National Gallery?" I was just overwhelmed and hugely complimented.

I went to each room, sat down and thought about the feelings [it brought up]. I ended up landing on the blue room, it's got a lot of English paintings in it. I liked the idea of English artists against old English paintings, sort of breaking that mold of stiffness and classical looks to be like, this is now the future of London coming into the gallery. We placed the piano right in front of this really famous huge horse painting to really make that statement.

I am very mindful of having a diverse and interesting lineup. I always have one artist that starts the event that is a nod to the traditional kind of way of playing [piano]. It usually evolves to some artists playing the neoclassical sounds and then it moves into more the dance element and vocalist and then it ends on "this is the future" type of thing. I always like having that momentum.

Let's talk about your new record label RISE. What's your vision is with it and who are the artists you're currently working with?

I started Rise last year for artists that want help to get to the next level and get the attention of the label they want. I wanted to do a label that was within my bandwidth because I have a full-time job. If there're artists that I can help get from point A to B, then they go on to C, that's a great thing. I have Frank Hopkins on the label, who's an electronic artist, and Kareem Kumar, who's a Black artist who is known for playing in the streets of London. [Kumar] has built an incredibly huge audience on socials that has been a real inspiration to so many youngsters during COVID. They played together for the first time at the National Gallery, where Frank added some really nice ambient sounds and Kareem played the piano.

Too often, labels are quite a stiff experience, they want to assign that artist forever. If there are any artists that want help on press releases, overall branding and PR, that's exactly what RISE is there for. We can help them release some records, sort their online profile and offer guidance to basically uplift the artist so they can get the attention of booking agents, a label etc.

I see the future of labels where they are this sort of incubator-type of model, where they help an artist and the artists can grow into their own team or go off into another label. I envisage more labels existing like mine, where they're helping the artists onto that next level.

What do you think needs to shift for the music industry to be more supportive — financially and otherwise — of artists, particularly young people of color?

One thing that could be great is the labels that are doing well commercially — I'm sure they do this to a certain extent — choose two artists every year for an incubator program and make it more visible. Right now, most labels' A&R is a very closed thing. I think [it would help] if the labels made a very clear way of sending them demos. I know it is difficult because these days, even [people at] labels are so overworked and they don't have time to think about things like this. Maybe a music organization or a body out there could pick this idea up and take it to some of the major labels.

On the live side, [we need] more community spaces where an artist can come by and play regularly to fans and bring their friends and family around. Most venues are so hard to get on the bill, [so there's a need for] smaller 100-capacity-or-so spaces that open the doors more to local artists. We rely on the same names over and over again, whether it's festivals or local clubs, etc.

With your work as Beatport's Chief Community Officer, what are you actively doing to bring in and celebrate more women and people of color in dance music?

I've always been aware of diversity and my color and who I am in the music industry. Especially when I was around all those white male composers who knew everything about production and I knew nothing, that was very daunting. Even things like drinking — I don't drink and the amount of times it feels uncomfortable to be in the music industry. Many people in South Asian communities, especially Pakistani, grew up in a non-drinking culture, and we should have awareness to make those people feel comfortable otherwise they're never going to join the music industry.

What's been incredible is that Robb [McDaniels, Beatport's CEO] and the team have been, "You own it, you do what you believe." In the first few months, I hired a DEI consultant named Vick Bain, who was an amazing mentor for me. I'm a real big believer in experts. I was able to really upskill myself very fast through having her around.

Putting aside diversity, we're living in a time where people are feeling incredibly lonely and disconnected from community. That's why I'm doing panel events with DJ sets with Beatport. I [want to] facilitate people to come in to hear from each other, especially women, in a room that feels safe to hold discussion.

First meeting of the year was at the National Gallery. Can’t wait to curate my piano event there this year 🥳 pic.twitter.com/RVNFNZWdTV

— Sofia Ilyas (@sofiailyas) January 5, 2024

How have you taken it upon yourself to bring more women and artists of color with you along the way, and do you make space and advocate for people?

It's always something that's on the top of my mind because being a South Asian woman in music is already quite difficult at moments. You look around wondering Is there any support for me? And with my journey of having walked away from my family, part of me is already exhausted from that experience and existing in the music industry in an environment that often feels very alien to me.

Just being a woman in a C-Suite position isn't not easy. I've never been in a role where the focus is to champion women and that's why I'm so grateful for Beatport.

Throughout my career, I've always given out a lot of free PR and guidance, and quite often that's been for women. I've always wanted to be available and I'm always happy to give my time. If anyone reads this, and they want to email me and ask me any questions, I'm always really happy to help.

What's some advice you have for young women of color that want to work in the music industry but don't know where to start?

What I love about the music industry is there are so many gaps, and so many observations you can make and sort of insert yourself in and create something quite special itself. Once you start getting to know your local community, [you can get] so much support from others. I made a lot of my friends by going to vinyl markets and going up to my favorite labels and saying hi. When I was trying to work in the music industry and sending a ton of emails, I got nothing in return. But as soon as I started being a bit more active in the live [music] side, I met so many people.

Don't think you need to do it alone. For so many years, I kept what I was experiencing to myself and I would always present this polished person on Instagram. Lately, I've started really opening up more about how I feel. When I turned 43 recently, I posted on Instagram about how I sometimes overwork to avoid [loneliness]. I was surprised by how many people, especially men, messaged me and said I feel that way too. I'm learning to be more vulnerable.

Don't be afraid to ask questions. You just have to get over ego and fear. I can't sugarcoat it; unfortunately, there are [some] people who are going to make you feel really stupid for asking. Lean on your friends and know you're on the right path. Know that we need more women and more diversity in the industry. Look at people that inspire you. When I used to look at Four Tet, I'd be like, Oh my God, an Indian man on stage, that's so cool. So, look for your inspiration points and be vulnerable with your friends, because it is going to be difficult sometimes. And you can definitely email me anytime. [Chuckles.]

What does a more equitable music industry look like to you?

Well, that's a big question. I think [it would involve] everyone being more conscious. Whether it's a booking agent or a label looking to sign someone, if everyone is thinking around diversity and consciously looking and making their spaces more open to women. I always think about open doors. How can everyone open their doors more while considering the space people are entering into. It's one thing opening your door but it's another thing if that person enters a space and doesn't feel safe.

For me, a place where everyone's consciously thinking about this, and it isn't just on the organization or a few artists or someone like me in my role to try and figure it out. I think if everyone was conscious of it, things would just happen more seamlessly.

How LP Giobbi & Femme House Are Making Space For Women In Dance Music: "If You Really Want To Make A Change, It Can Be Done"

This year's Met Gala invited guests to step into the enchanting "Garden of Time" at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, where fashion meets fantasy. Celebrating the Met's exhibit "Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion," the first Monday in May saw stars transform the red carpet into a vibrant display of sartorial storytelling. The theme showcased a collection too delicate to wear but alive with the stories of fashion's past.

From co-chairs Zendaya and Bad Bunny to Tyla and Jennifer Lopez, see how music icons and film stars embodied this year's theme with spectacular flair. The gala not only highlighted the sensory and emotional richness of fashion but also set the stage for a night of memorable styles — groundbreaking florals, tiered tulle and all. 

Explore the full spectrum of this year's enchanting looks from fashion's grandest night in the showcase below.

Bad Bunny

Jeff Kravitz/FilmMagic/Getty Images

Jennifer Lopez

Photo: Kevin Mazur/MG24/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue

Zendaya

Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue

Tyla

Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images

Donald Glover

Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images

Stray Kids

Photo: Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images

Jon Batiste

Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images

Queen Latifah

John Shearer/WireImage/Getty Images

Kylie Minogue

Photo: Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images

Christian Cowan and Sam Smith

Photo: Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images

Jack Harlow

Marleen Moise/Getty Images

Teyana Taylor

Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images

Ariana Grande

Kevin Mazur/MG24/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue

Rosalía

Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images

Laufey

Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images

Shakira

John Shearer/WireImage

Doja Cat

Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images

FKA Twigs, Stella McCartney, Ed Sheeran & Cara Delevingne

John Shearer/WireImage

Lana Del Ray

Kevin Mazur/MG24/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue

Karol G

Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for The Met Museum/Vogue

Lil Nas X

John Shearer/WireImage

Charli XCX

Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images

Cardi B

Gotham/Getty Images

Dua Lipa

Gotham/Getty Images

Lizzo

Dia Dipasupil/Getty Images

Eryka Badu

Gotham/Getty Images

Dua Lipa Is Confidently In Love On 'Radical Optimism': 4 Takeaways From The New Album

The explosive Latin music scene is moving in many directions: from brassy corridos tumbados to pounding perreo tracks. Yet another, slower movement is quietly brewing: Latin trip-hop and downtempo. 

Trip-hop originated in the 1990s and typically refers to downtempo music with a degree of electronic experimentation and an elusive sense of eeriness. While it's a contentious term that has been shunned by the very artists’ whose sound it was coined to describe (Portishead’s Geoff Barrow once tweeted "call it anything else but that";), it has been widely embraced in Latin America, which has imprinted on the genre since it’s infancy.

In 2001, the Franco-Argentine act Gotan Project poured tango into trip-hop musings to create their seminal record La revancha del Tango. Brazilian bossa nova has also featured heavily in the peripheral trip-hop scene: London-Brazilian outfit Smoke City’s 1997 Flying Away was awash with the rhythms of Rio de Janeiro. 

Latin GRAMMY winner Mon Laferte recalls listening to the sounds of Portishead in the 1990s, gazing out the window of her Chilean home in portside city Viña del Mar. "I loved Beth Gibbons’ voice," she says. "I remember the television was showing a Portishead concert, and I thought, Who is this captivating voice?"

That interest has followed Laferte throughout her career. On 2023's Autopoetica, Laferte brings back the Latin twist on trip-hop — drawing on traditional styles that have been a staple to her previous catalog (bolero, salsa, cumbia), then blending them into a downtempo electro canvas. "40yMM," a song that navigates the ups and downs of turning 40, begins with atmospheric strings, whispered vocals, and slow, pulsating beats, before unexpectedly branching into a rhythmic salsa. 

Laferte is one of a new wave of artists exploring the boundaries of traditional Latin styles through poignant, reflective experimentation — whether it be pasting a hypnotic double cumbia beat onto a trippy electro soundscape, or combining regional folk guitar with shuddering synths. Read on for five artists who are at the forefront of a new wave of Latin trip-hop and downtempo.

Karen y Los Remedios 

Hailing from Mexico, Karen y Los Remedios is a Mexican trio that makes "existential Cumbia." Their 2023 debut album, Silencio, is a gorgeously dark exploration of the realizations that occur through silence. On "Cartas Marinas," Ana Karen G Barajas asks "What would your voice be without mine?/What would your hand be without mine?"; her profound, prophetic tone that chills the spine.

The trio, formed by Barajas, guitarist Guillermo Berbeyer and producer Jonathan Muriel (Jiony), first met on projects under Jiony's Mexico City label, VAA, which specializes in electro, techno, funk and traditional Latin sounds. The trio eventually teamed up to put out two EPs, cumbia-driven Botanas, Vol15, in 2020, and lo-fi hip hop effort Recuerdos de Expiación in 2021.

Federico Aubele

Singing with shivering stillness, Federico Aubele’s music is soft, pensive and haunting. Mixing jazz, trip-hop and folk, the Argentine is signed to ESL Music, which is headed by U.S. electro act Thievery Corporation. His musical footprint is similarly global: Aubele released his debut album, Gran Hotel Buenos Aires, in 2004 while living in Berlin, and then spent time making music in Barcelona, before settling in New York.

His latest album, 2023's Time Drips On My Bed, is a meditative reflection on the past inspired by his early life in Buenos Aires, a city he grew up in, but is at once a stranger to. His music is informed by Latin classical guitars, nodding to the tango and folk styles present in Argentina, and mixing in contemporary electronic elements to hone his eclectic and exploratory style. 

Luiza Lian 

Signed to international independent label ZZK Records, Luiza Lian is a Sao Paulo-based musician who toys with experimental techniques, bouncing basslines and erratic vocal arrangement. On the latest album, 7 Estrelas | quem arrancou o céu?, she uses voice manipulation to explore themes of reality and deception, holding a mirror up to a consumerist world to question where our real values should lie. 

Lian’s deep mediations on the record translate to an immersive live show that has won awards in her native Brazil. With frantic projections, flashing lights and costume design that form part of the stage backdrop, she creates a deliberately disorientating and harrowing mood, encouraging viewers to join her reflection on humanity. 

Natalia Clavier

Like Abuele, Buenos Aires vocalist Clavier is another protegee of the Thievery Corporation and spent a large part of her early career as the band’s lead vocalist. Clavier kindled a love for singing as a child after listening to her grandmother’s jazz records and eventually grew to love electronic music after discovering the sounds of Massive Attack, Björk and Portishead. 

After spending the first chapter of her music career as a session and live vocalist, Clavier released her debut album, Nectár, in 2008. She's since crafted a body of solo work that combines hushed, jazzy vocals with gorgeously downtempo tracks. Her most recent album with Thievery Corporation’s Eric Hilton, 2023’s Corazón Kintsugi, combines Bossa Nova, dub, and trip-hop into a rich soundscape. 

Céu 

Maria do Céu Whitaker Poças, known as Céu, is a Sao Paulo musician whose music veers into a particularly dub vein of downtempo. 

Since releasing her first self-titled album in 2005, Céu has worked with a mixture of jazz, reggae and samba, her blissfully smooth vocals weaving between the genres. The self-titled album was a critical success, earning her a Latin GRAMMY nomination for Best New Artist in 2006, and a GRAMMY nomination for Best Contemporary World Music Album in 2008.

Céu continues to make soft, blissfully melodic music with an electronic edge. On 2024 single Coração Âncora, she teams up with producer RDD to sing a breezy, summery ode the "anchored heart," committed and assured. 

6 Artists Reimagining Flamenco For A New Generation: María José Llergo, C. Tangana, Mëstiza & More

**"I’ve got an obsessive mind," admits producer Danny L Harle. "I often can't sleep at night because I've got melodies circling in my head. I get haunted by melodies, and I think that's why some people trust me, because they know that I will not let it go unless I think it's absolutely perfect."

That dedication to crafting powerful pop melodies has resulted in a treasure trove of earworms on Dua Lipa’s new album Radical Optimism. Harle was recruited by Lipa as one of the album’s co-producers, alongside Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker and songwriters Tobias Jesso Jr and Caroline Ailin.

It's no surprise that Harle was recruited to craft a record that seeks to find light and happiness where darkness prevails. Since his 2015 debut EP Broken Flowers, Harle has created dance-pop that examined the relationship between melancholia and euphoria, as well as the grandeur and escapism of a rave. 

After releasing a string of singles via PC Music, Harle dropped his first album, Harlecore, in 2021 with Mad Decent. The ecstatic spirit of Harlecore, which is centered around a virtual rave headed by four imaginary DJs, echoes in Harle’s latest collaboration as co-writer and producer of the UK’s Eurovision song, "Dizzy" by Olly Alexander. 

"There is good pop music and more algorithmic pop music, pop music which is more guaranteed to work and is less interesting," Harle says. "I just really like good pop music, and that, for me, always seems to start from my research with people."

It was Harle’s naturally synergistic approach to collaboration that led to his work with Lipa. He has also worked with yeule on their album Glitch Princess, and the likes of Charli XCX. But it was his production and writing on  singer Caroline Polachek's  debut solo album that caught Dua Lipa's ear. "She appreciated the spirit of collaboration with that album and wanted me to make her album."

Read below to get a taste of how Danny Harle made Radical Optimism and other earwormy, dancefloor hits.  

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Hey Danny! What’s that cool instrument behind you?

It’s an electric double bass, which is my main instrument: bass guitar and double bass. I use that on some of the Caroline Polachek stuff. There's certain artists who come into the room and see that and they're like, "We have to use that." And some people try to pretend it doesn't exist.

It’s fascinating; I used to play that instrument when I was younger, and then gave it up. There was a 10 year gap, and then I found a place much later in my life where it could fit in. I stopped playing bass guitar at one point as well. 

Then I found myself in a session with NAO, and she was like, "Can you play bass guitar?" There was one literally on display outside, the Squire bass, so I picked it up and we made a track together. She was in a session with Nile Rodgers the next day playing it to him, and he loved it, and then it was on the Chic album [It’s About Time]! At that point I lost any preconceptions I had about needing good gear to make a great sounding music.

Did you do a lot of the bass work on Dua’s album?

I did a fair amount of it, but a lot of it is a collaboration with me and Kevin Parker. All that time he's spent touring and playing the bass live is time that I've spent in front of a computer. So it's hard to compare bass skills, as much as it's my instrument. 

Alongside being a great live player, Kevin has a particular skill for making an instrument sound great when it is recorded, which is a completely different thing. There were some times where I was like, "I prefer the way that it sounds when you do it." And then sometimes he would ask me to do it as well. It was a really nice, trusting partnership. 

The process of the album was very trusting; a sense of being able to say when you think something could be better, but also understanding that trusting someone else is good at what they're doing. It was a very rare environment, but the atmosphere of respect and trust was quite an incredible thing to experience. If you hear what anybody says involved in that process, they'll say those are some of the best sessions they’ve ever had in that respect. 

We were talking about this key Motown idea, which is that happy songs go best over a sad melody. It doesn’t have to be the melody, it can be the music sounding sad; "Tears Of A Clown" by Smokey Robinson is a good example. There's something very resonant in that combination. 

"Houdini," "Training Season" and "Illusion" are all in minor keys, aren’t they? It makes for such melodically rich stuff that’s different from your average four chord pop progression.

Yup. It’s not as simple as happy song, happy chords. It adds richness to the emotional landscape of the song, and that was a key element in that. 

It was a room full of people who are excited by hearing new melodies and approaches and structures. That’s why you don’t really hear the same melodic patterns that music’s fallen into these days on the album. I find that particularly inspiring. 

You’ve written with stars like Charli XCX and Rina Sawayama before, but this is your first extended project with a pop star. You first made pop music to engage people as a virtually unknown musician, but now that attention is guaranteed. Did that change the way you think about pop?

Not at all. My approach to this stuff, especially these days, is that I can just do my thing. I'm very honored to work with the people I've been working with. Very early on in my career when I was trying to make pop music in that way, it would always go horribly wrong. Whereas now I just try to make good music. 

Some people can just make a pop song and I can't do that. I'm like, "Let's make a good song." I personally believe that there is good pop music and more algorithmic pop music, pop music which is more guaranteed to work and is less interesting. I just really like good pop music, and that, for me, always seems to start from my research with people just trying to make the best music. 

How did you make this record more personal to Dua in terms of influences and not just lyrically?

It all stems from her at the center of it; so much stuff happens to her. It’s insane, the amount she’d have to say before every session — [like] "These tracks are actually making points." 

Then it would be a case of finding an instrumental with a certain emotion, and out of natural conversation, there’d be a sense of connection [from] a phrase someone would hit on. [But] it would always stem from her as the center of the whole thing. It was just a very organic way of writing and we were very privileged with the rich life Dua leads to draw from. 

This record was a tight songwriting team — where did you fit into it?

I was contributing to all of the tracks in all factors: lyric ideas most rarely, but also melodic ideas, songwriting ideas, mainly from a production standpoint.  

I would be in the corner on my computer, and I would constantly be in conversation with everybody. We might have Kevin on a guitar, and then I’d be making some electronic arpeggios to go with that. I’d be constantly AirDropping stuff to Cam Gower, the greatest vocal engineer in the world, and he would be stacking what we had in ProTools. Sometimes I would take Cam’s session and put it into my computer — like with ‘Illusion’, because there’s stuff that goes on that affects the whole track in a way that I needed to do to get that dancey feel. 

It's quite a global, almost old-fashioned producer role I was taking. I think that was a valuable thing for Dua in certain cases, because I would know about every song on the album. If we were writing with new writers, I'd be like, ‘we already said this idea in that song.’ I would have an eye on the whole thing and be a soundboard for the overall project. 

Let’s start with the opening track, "End Of An Era" is unexpectedly calming and gentle. What prompted you guys to make this the opener?

I just love the idea of starting an album with the track called "End Of An Era"; it is quite an alarming thing to see. I love the tone of the track, the joy of it, but also the fairy-godmother-style commentary going over it as well. 

It's about that heart-eyes emoji feeling of knowing you're irrationally in love in the moment where you rethink everything about your life. I just thought the emotion fit really well. The album has a story to it, and it's a great opener for that story.  

The track "These Walls" expands Dua’s voice in a way I haven’t heard her sing before. Could you walk me through the production of that song?

With that song, I didn't want to get in the way of the purity of the message. It’s very important to understand when a track does not need to be a production showcase, you are in service of the storytelling. 

It was all about making space for the great emotion of the song and having occasional moments of departure, and always being relevant to what is being said. When she says "Did you really mean it when you said forever?", the track disappears into a strange fantasy synth moment. That idea is [that] your mind might get taken away by the thought of forever, just for a moment, as a sort of impossible idea. That's what the music's doing — it takes you out and it lands you straight back into the track.

There’s also a moment of self-deprecating humor: "If these walls could talk / they’d say you’re f—ed.". Was that humor fostered by the close relationship all the songwriters had?

Absolutely. That kind of thing is often the most memorable bit of a song, if placed correctly in the most tasteful area. There’s a track on the yeule album Glitch Princess, where it’s these big Charles Ives chords I wrote. It sounds like it’s gonna be a nice piano ballad, but the first line is "feels like s—." [Laughs.] It takes you by surprise, but it fits with the mood of the track. 

With Dua, it’s tastefully placing it where it fits in the story, and that point in the chorus, it felt perfect. It also reminds me of this idea in the [software] engineering world: the rubber duck principle. They have a rubber duck there because engineers will want to ask a question, but often when you’re asking the question, you’ll realize the answer to it. The rubber duck is there so you can ask the question and it’ll tell you the answer because you already knew it. ‘These Walls’ reminds me of that; if these walls are saying I’m f—ed, you know you’re f—ed. 

The climax of the album is "Falling Forever." It’s super ballsy, and the drums are mixed so loudly. Tell me about how this track came to be.

It’s a beautiful one, that one. A great thinker said it sounds like a thousand galloping horses. That one came about in the sessions with [producer and songwriter] Ian Kirkpatrick. He came in with the chords you hear at the beginning, and I really enjoyed the idea of having a galloping rhythm. You don’t hear the gallop very often, I can’t think of one other song that’s done that in recent history. 

I also thought up the "how long" thing — I thought it would be fun to make the word ‘long’ really long. Those were my key contributions to the song. Ian Kirkpatrick, his drums are so fantastic. You’ve gotta let him get on with it. 

The vocals are also so close — there’s subtler production going on earlier in the album, but this song punches you right in the face.

It’s so great. It’s very much an approach that I have with singers where I want them to do a thing that makes their voice sound f—ing amazing. The first time I thought I achieved that with Caroline was with "Parachute," using everything her voice can do: the runs, the high register, the emotional low register. This is a showcase. "Falling Forever" does that with Dua. "These Walls" is an interesting comparison as well, it shows a real range of emotion that Dua is capable of in a way I find really exciting. 

It’s indescribable to hear her sing in the room. I had the privilege of having her recording demo vocals on an SM-7 [microphone] like this sitting in front of her. It is unbelievable to hear that: just a human making that sound in front of you, it’s like nothing else. It’s like witnessing a wonder of the world. Also to use the specific, occasionally metallic sound she can make with her voice, to use it when necessary as part of an expression of something, the way she phrases things is incredible as well. 

Does the message of Radical Optimism — of finding grace in the chaos — match the euphoria you want to explore in music?

There is a sense of melancholic euphoria as well, the Elizabethan side of things. I would say there's a Venn diagram of euphoria that fits with Dua. 

On the track "Happy For You," there are certain ravey things going on where Dua was like, "What’s that sound?" It’s these chords Kevin wrote, and I start stuttering them. 

Also the flute mellotron in the song "Maria," she was immediately like, "Yep: I love it." I was so happy because it’s so my thing, that cyclical melody. Also, the bit in "Illusions" before the chorus where it goes to a major chord before the chorus, I love the sound of the unexpected major chord. Having repeated moments like that, I think, was the reason why I was asked to stay on the project; we clearly had chemistry, but it was interesting how macro it was. 

That unexpected major chord moment also appears in your Eurovision song with Olly Alexander, doesn’t it?

I've written some more tracks with him that do that. I've really been enjoying that with Olly because his voice is so agile and can really make sense of more complicated chord sequences. 

Another thing I've been enjoying with him is when there's sparseness and letting the vocal melody spell out the harmony and maybe occasionally go minor and major over one bass note, which is something I really, really enjoy. 

I've always been a big fan of Olly Alexander, I’ve wanted to work with him my whole career. I believe I tweeted at him in 2009 saying hi. But I think people who like my stuff could hear that he has the kind of voice that I really like: a very virtuosic, melodic voice. [We] just had immediate chemistry, musically. We've written a fair amount of music and he’s a very exciting artist to be involved with. 

The UK has a pretty shaky track record with Eurovision. Did you feel any of that pressure?

No, there wasn't that thing in my head. I just love Olly’s voice. And collaborating with him is just fantastic. I've had ideas for Olly for years now, and it was a dream to be able to actually enact some of them.

What’s next in store for you?

My own album. I've got another one that I'm finishing up at the minute that I'm very excited about. It was delayed by two and a half years because I got all of my dream projects offered to me at the same time and I wanted to make sure that I did them all properly. But now I can get back to doing my own stuff. 

It feels so good to be back at the grindstone, sitting in my studio writing beautiful things, making beautiful objects to present to the world. It’s the dream, really.

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