A&R Factory conducts exclusive interviews with independent bands, musicians, and artists from around the world. We converse with musicians about their upcoming releases, planned tour dates, and other topics that make them unique and stand out from the crowd!
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Kacey Fifield has never been one to shy away from emotional authenticity. With her latest EP, Seeing Stars, she threads the constellations of heartbreak, healing, and newfound connections with striking clarity. In our interview, Kacey opens up about the spontaneous yet deliberate creative process behind the EP, the emotional tightrope of personal songwriting, and the nostalgic, cinematic weight that closes the collection. She also speaks candidly about her growth as an artist from her teenage years to her college life, and what fans can expect when she brings the project to life on stage. If you’re ready to step into a world where vulnerability meets synth-driven indie pop, this conversation with Kacey is one you won’t want to miss.
It was a spontaneous songwriting process, and the storyline became clearer with each song I wrote. “Seeing Stars” tells a story: from the pop-rock opener, “HOLD UR PEACE,” which brutally slams an “addict” to “no commitment” for their mixed signals against guitar shredding and energetic drum fills, to the vulnerable ballad “Right Past Me” which describes a sense of regret over one’s own mistakes in a relationship, all the way to the upbeat, synth-filled “In Between” which depicts the excitement and nerves of connecting with someone new. “secrets” closes out the EP by emphasizing how past relationships continue to impact us as we “cling” onto the memories shared with that person.
Working with multiple producers was fun and kept things interesting. Since I wrote all the songs (with a few co-writers), it was relatively easy to keep the emotional tone cohesive. My EP blends the soundscapes of indie pop, synth pop, and classic rock to create a dreamy world focused on the intricacies of falling in and out of love, showcasing the various ways in which we metaphorically “see stars”.
The anthemic melody, nostalgic background vocals, and synth solos in “secrets” create a soundscape that resembles the end of a coming-of-age film and spotlights the lyrics as they describe the process of finding closure and being at peace with the fact that former heartbreaks stick with us over time. I thought that it was a great closing song that would leave listeners emotionally engaged.
I have always enjoyed quiet moments of reflection. Stargazing, songwriting, playing my guitar or simply walking in the park are all needed outlets in the way I process my thoughts and feelings.
I always write personal lyrics and don’t overthink it much in terms of will the song be relatable to others. I find a lot of comfort in the fact that, if I am going through a certain emotion or experience, there are probably other people going through the exact same thing. We are never alone in our feelings or thoughts.
Yes, definitely! I feel like I have grown as an artist and this EP reflects that more than anything. The songwriting process was challenging, but so was selecting which songs made the cut. I wouldn’t say there was one particular song that sticks out as especially challenging, but the overall process of shaping my music into a cohesive story for the EP definitely took time.
When I wrote my album, I was still a teenager trying to find my way in the music world. Through trying different styles, I found the voice and sound I liked. Both “Nostalgia Hunts Me” and “Seeing Stars” reflect me at a given moment in time as a person and an artist. The progression is me growing up from a senior in high school to a sophomore in college who is documenting life and growing pains. Growing and developing as an artist and writing the music that I want to listen to is key.
Playing my music live is my absolute favorite thing ever! Seeing Stars is definitely a project that requires a ton of energy so there will be loads of dancing, jumping, and audience engagement. I can’t wait to play the songs live!
Find your preferred way to stream the Seeing Stars EP via Kacey Fifield’s official website.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Photo credit: Maiya Buck Photography
Olav Larsen & The Alabama Rodeo Stars may not have set out to redefine Americana from the fjords of Norway, but through Stream of Consciousness Vol. 2, he proves how much weight a quiet voice can carry. In this interview, the seasoned singer-songwriter reflects on how the record’s textured soundscape and broader emotional range were born from the same creative well as his earlier, stripped-back work. The conversation moves through questions of artistic longevity, genre fidelity, and the unshakable pull of honest songwriting. Olav offers rare clarity as he addresses the absurdity of social media-fed narcissism, the tension between restraint and revelation in lyrics, and how communal voices helped carry his songs past what he could reach alone. If you’re curious about what it means to stay real in an industry obsessed with reinvention, you’ll want to read this to the final line.
Thanks for having me. It’s always nice when people take the time to listen and engage with the music.
The songs themselves called for it. While Vol. 1 was initially recorded mostly in one room with a couple of vintage mics, just me and my guitar, this time I felt the stories needed a broader palette, even though most of the songs were written at the same time as the ones on Vol. 1. The band and I had a few loose sketches from earlier sessions, and we built on those with intention. I wanted to preserve the rawness but stretch out sonically. The choir, the organ, the layered guitars all serve the emotion rather than cover it up.
I think it comes down to honesty. I grew up on country, gospel, soul, and folk music, and those genres were always about truth-telling. I’m not trying to recreate the past or chase trends either. I just write what feels real to me, in the moment I’m in. If the bones of a song are strong, you don’t need to dress them up too much. It’s in the heart of the song where tradition and now can meet.
I remember hearing “There Was a Light” by Chris Bell for the first time. That wrecked me. It wasn’t blues, but it had the same ache and beauty I heard in the old records my father played. That song opened a door for me. It was fragile but certain, and I knew I wanted to write something that made someone else feel like that.
Both, to be honest. Early on, people weren’t quite sure what to make of it. Americana wasn’t a big thing in Norway when I started out. But over time, I’ve seen it connect with people on a deeper level than genre. A good song is a good song. And now there’s a growing scene here that embraces those roots, so it’s been encouraging. We even have a name for it: Norwegicana or Nordicana, I believe they call it. Check out the likes of Malin Pettersen, Darling West, and Sugarfoot, to mention a few.
I don’t sit down with a theme in mind. I write to process, to reflect, to figure things out. But of course, the times we live in seep into the writing. The world feels fragile and loud. I wanted to make something that holds space for both anger, frustration, and beauty and grace. I think we’re all craving a bit more meaning and connection. These songs came from that place.
Restraint is key. A line can hit harder when you trust the silence around it. I always try to write from a place of clarity. That doesn’t mean every emotion is tidy. It just means I aim to say what needs to be said and let the listener meet me halfway. And yes, I do sometimes want to overexplain or tie it up in a bow, but that’s usually when I know I should pull back. On another note, this particular song is written with a sense of my own humorous taste. Even though I feel the negative, almost narcissistic energy we all bring to the table through the lens of social media, and I write about some of the interhuman results of this on this record, I also see that same energy in many singer-songwriters’ work these days, including my own, and I do find that to be a bit funny.
The choir is something I’ve always been fond of, but this was the first time it really became an important instrument in helping build the songs’ crescendos. The songs were reaching for something bigger than myself, and I wanted other voices to carry that weight with me. Working with friends and fellow musicians is always a blast. It wasn’t about perfection, but rather about feeling. And it surprised me how much that lifted the songs beyond what I had imagined.
You stay curious. You stay open. I’ve never had a five-year plan, but I’ve always tried to show up fully for whatever season I’m in. Some years you feel like you’re climbing a mountain. Other times it flows like a river. But if you keep writing a little bit every day, keep listening, and keep learning from the masters, I guess the spark keeps finding you. Longevity, for me, isn’t about staying relevant. I honestly do not care about staying relevant. It’s about staying real.
Stream the latest releases from Olav Larsen & The Alabama Rodeo Stars on Spotify now.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Francesca Pichierri builds entire sonic landscapes to face discomfort head-on. With Cellule Stronze, she captures the fractures, weight, and strange poetry of living alongside cancer. In this exclusive interview, she speaks with unflinching honesty about creating Amen, a track that laces biting critique into dancefloor-ready rhythms, and explains how it fits into her wider narrative on presence, pain, and human connection. Francesca opens up about the emotional labour behind the production process, the tension between vulnerability and performance, and how the album became a tool for confronting both social silence and personal grief. From the conceptual construction of each track to the grassroots independence that powers her vision, this conversation gets to the heart of an artist who refuses to prioritise comfort over truth. If you’ve ever sought refuge in music that actually says something—this is for you.
Thank you for having me! I really appreciate the opportunity to share more about this project, which is deeply significant to me.
Amen is one of the most rhythmically engaging and ironic tracks on the album, yet beneath its groove lies a sharp critique. It confronts the phenomenon of “cancer ghosting”, when people disappear in the face of suffering, shedding light on a crucial aspect of the album’s narrative. The album title, Cellule Stronze, Italian for “bastard cells” or “bitchy cells”, carries a dual meaning: it refers both to the relentless nature of cancer cells and the social “cells” of human connection that can fracture under the weight of adversity. Amen plays a pivotal role in exploring this theme, highlighting the contrast between words and the much harder act of showing up when it truly matters.
Sonically, I wanted the track to embody this contradiction. I fused elements of disco, synth-driven dance-pop, and funk with gospel and soul influences to create something danceable yet thought-provoking. The infectious groove serves as a stark counterpoint to its bitter message, mirroring the dissonance between outward expressions of support and the silence that often follows. Even if you don’t immediately catch the critique in the lyrics, you can still move to the beat and get lost in the rhythm: music has that power to pull people in, sometimes before they realize what they’re feeling.
The experience of being by my mother’s side as she navigated illness gave me a profound perspective on the complexities of cancer, physically, psychologically, and socially. It’s an emotional rollercoaster, one that’s difficult to fully grasp unless you’ve lived through it. I wanted to capture that complexity by focusing on key moments in our journey, those that felt particularly significant and revealing.
Musically, I aimed to reflect the fluid, multifaceted, and ever-evolving nature of human emotions in every piece. Rather than confining myself to a specific genre, I wanted the sound to follow the emotional depth of the experience. Structuring the album as a sonic bookallowed me to craft a cohesive narrative where each song functions like a chapter: distinct yet deeply interconnected.
During production, I made intentional choices to mirror the different stages of this journey. The haunting stillness of Gelo reflects the shock of diagnosis, while the defiant irony of Amen captures a different emotional shade. But even for listeners who haven’t experienced illness firsthand, these moments tap into universal emotions: grief, resilience, frustration, hope. This approach ensured that each track stands on its own while contributing to a larger, immersive listening experience, one that unfolds like a story meant to be heard in its entirety.
That’s such a thoughtful question, thank you! I would say that the writing phase was, in a way, the “safest” part of the process: fast, liberating, and private. It became my solitary space where I could let go of my emotions and try to make sense of what was happening. When you’re a caregiver supporting someone with cancer, there’s often a feeling that your own worries don’t matter; you’re fully focused on the person you love. Writing the album, however, gave me a space to process everything, almost like a form of therapy.
The songs were written between 2021 and 2023, during the first few years after cancer entered our lives. It was an incredibly painful and confusing time, and music became my way of regaining a sense of control in the chaos. Expressing those emotions through music was cathartic and helped me cope.
The hardest part for me, though, was the production phase. Once the songs were written, I had to dig deeper into them, re-live those feelings, and re-connect with the raw emotion behind each track. There were moments when it became too much, and I had to step away to regain my emotional balance. But the real challenge was and still is performing the songs. When I step on stage, I have to somewhat detach myself, like I’m not me anymore. It’s a strange balance between being fully present and not allowing the emotions to overwhelm me. If I let them take over, I could lose control of my voice or the performance itself.
But even through the difficulty, I found strength in knowing that these songs could resonate with others facing their own struggles, even if they aren’t directly related to cancer. Listeners have shared that the songs reminded them of their own personal hardships, the pressure of constantly holding it together, and the fear of not being accepted for who they truly are. After all, at its core, this album is about human connection: what it means to truly exist, to face the vulnerability of being alive, to love and support, to navigate the tension between holding on and letting go, and to find acceptance in the spaces where we’re confronted with the uncertainty of life.
That connection is what keeps me grounded and motivates me to perform, even when it’s emotionally difficult. Of course, I still get overwhelmed at times; certain songs, like “Il Nemico Dentro” and “Nel Dolore Cerca La” (which will be released with the album), carry such raw, personal energy that every time I hear them, I feel like I’m reliving those moments. But that’s also the beauty of music: it allows us to process, to remember, and to share those emotions with others in a way that words alone often can’t.
It often starts with something that captures my attention: an experience, a story, or an idea I feel drawn to explore. Sometimes, it’s just a few words that spark inspiration or a real-life scene that lingers in my mind. That initial spark gives me direction, shaping the foundation of the track. From there, I experiment, follow the sounds, and let the music and words unfold naturally.
But the process isn’t always linear or premeditated, it’s more like a conversation. At times, the meaning of a song reveals itself to me as if I’m uncovering something I’ve carried all along. Sometimes, inspiration strikes unexpectedly, while training my voice or working through guitar, piano, or drum exercises. It’s a constant balance between intention and discovery, structure and spontaneity. Writing, for me, is a space of freedom, but there’s always a story at its core, one with a vivid, thoughtful construction and deep emotional exploration.
As a narrative-driven songwriter, the story and its meaning shape the direction of the music rather than fitting into a specific genre. The concept plays a crucial role, especially in the production and arrangement phases. But above all, authenticity is key: every sound and vocal nuance must serve the emotion and the story, whether I set out to tell it from the start or discover it along the way.
Yes, and those responses have been deeply moving. People have shared their own stories with me, and it has reinforced the importance of creating music that speaks to these realities. Knowing that this album is helping others feel seen brings me a deep sense of fulfillment. It’s not just my story, it belongs to everyone who has felt the impact of illness in their lives, or, more broadly, the challenges of confronting complex, life-altering experiences.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on these questions again: How personal should a songwriter be? How much should we invest in the social purpose of our work? And how do we balance emotional honesty with self-care? It’s not easy being so vulnerable, fully immersing yourself in raw emotions and real experiences, sharing them, talking about them, listening to others’ stories. Promoting the album on my own also means often revisiting the pain behind the songs.
But despite the emotional weight, I believe that authentic and fearless art has the power to create real impact. Comfort doesn’t change the world, but honesty might. And if being honest in my music helps others feel understood, then every challenge along the way has been worth it, especially in a time when empathy seems to be in short supply.
It’s definitely a challenge in an industry that prioritizes instant gratification, but I believe in the power of full-length storytelling. Some experiences can’t be condensed into a three-minute single, they need space to unfold, to be fully felt. Cellule Stronze is for listeners who crave depth, who want to sit with an album and let it reveal itself over time. I imagine an audience that values music not just as entertainment, but as a profound emotional and artistic experience, something to engage with, reflect on, and return to. I know that in today’s fast-paced world, time is scarce, but there are still those who cherish these richer, more immersive experiences.
As an independent artist, I’ve always cherished the freedom to follow my vision without being bound by external pressures to conform or prioritize commercial success. I’m grateful that I have the ability to finance my work and make the kind of music that feels true to me, without the fear of not fitting into the industry’s conventional molds. This freedom allows me to create with authenticity and purpose, without the pressure of chasing returns.
There were moments of hesitation, but the urgency of the subject always outweighed my fears. My mother’s story, our story, deserved to be told in a raw and honest way. Vulnerability can be terrifying, but it’s also what makes art impactful. I knew that if I held back, the music wouldn’t be true to what we’ve lived through. So I embraced that discomfort and let it fuel the authenticity of the album.
I feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. This release feels like both a culmination and a beginning: a culmination because I’m eager to share the full body of work and hear how people connect with it; and a beginning because every release opens new doors. I’m proud of what I’ve created despite the challenges, but I’m also someone who is always evolving, studying, and refining my craft.
Cellule Stronze is a handmade album, an artisanal work shaped over years of writing between 2021 and 2023. With any creative process, you grow, and a part of me is ready to close this chapter and move forward. But right now, my focus is on making sure this story is heard and reaching the people who need it.
Of course, I hope it resonates widely, but at its core, this album exists to give voice to an experience that is often overlooked. If it sparks conversations, provides comfort, or simply makes someone feel less alone, then it has done what it was meant to do. I want this music to be a reminder that we’re all in this together, even when it feels like we’re not.
The album also challenges traditional approaches to music-making by demonstrating how artistry can transcend conventions, becoming a vehicle for profound meaning, emotional depth, and storytelling. It’s about prioritizing authenticity over industry expectations, embracing the rawness of human experience. What excites me most is seeing how people respond to a project that pushes boundaries in favor of something deeply personal and unapologetically real.
Beyond the emotional themes, I want listeners to fully immerse themselves in the sonic landscape of the album, whether it’s the raw intimacy or the unconventional nature of a vocal performance, the interplay of electronic and organic sounds, or the unexpected genre fusions. I want this album to be an experience that resonates long after the final note, not just in its meaning, but in its sound as well.
After all the work that went into it, I also want to fully enjoy this release: I’ve poured so much into it, and I can’t wait to finally share it!
I also want to take this opportunity to thank you for all the incredible support you’ve given to this project so far, and for the beautiful words you’ve shared about my music. Super grazie.
Discover the latest releases from Francesca Pichierri on Spotify.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
At just 21, the Birmingham-based artist CreeZon has pioneered GRIP HOP, a bold fusion of Grime’s razor-sharp lyricism and Hip Hop’s soulful storytelling, layered with melodic choruses and orchestral intensity. In this candid interview, CreezOn reveals how his formative influences—from breakdancing to Ghetts, from gospel to J Dilla—have led him to redefine UK rap’s sonic identity. Fresh from performing alongside Lady Leshurr and JayKae with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, he opens up about crafting music rooted in authenticity over virality. CreezOn also shares insights on the cinematic concept behind his forthcoming EP and how his music, including standout track ‘Chosen One,’ is finding its natural place within film, TV, and gaming.
Across my journey, I’ve been influenced by and dabbled in many music genres, both as an artist and as a producer. When I first started recording music, I made quite a few Afro-swing, Trap and Drill tracks, cos that’s what was trending at the time. But as I grew older, and more confident in my sound, I started asking myself deeper questions. I asked myself, “Even though I’ve proved to myself that I can make music in any genre, what culture do I truly resonate with? How do I want to be seen?
My life has always been rooted in Hip Hop, Grime, RnB, Gospel, Neo-Soul, and Reggae. I even grew up B-boying (breakdancing). Hip hop and Grime have always been my biggest loves, closely followed by Neo-Soul. Once I realised that, I naturally leaned into those sounds. It became a transition, a step into maturity and self-discovery. These genres give me the space to express myself fully, both emotionally and lyrically. Unlike most people my age, my lyricism has always been inspired by Grime, from writing bars at 13 to tracks like Treble Clef’s Ghetto Kyote. A lot of my peers caught onto the Drill wave heavier than Grime, but this wasn’t the case for me.
For me, these genres all carry a rawness, a distinct soulfulness. And that rawness, that authenticity, is what I believe real creativity is about. I think UK hip-hop has lost a lot of that authenticity ….and this is evident by the repeated lyrical content, visuals and similar sounding beats. That’s not to say people aren’t still out here making substantial, out of the box and raw UK Hip-hop music. Don’t get me wrong, there are still artists making music that’s substantial, original and powerful… … it’s just clear to see that the music pushed in front of the industry today is more based on its virality than its substance. Overtime, music has become more in the background of life, like a multitasking activity, as opposed to an activity in itself, where you actually sit down, LISTEN to your favourite album, and take it in, layer by layer. As attention spans have shortened and talent is often judged by stats over substance, I think we can all agree that UK hip-hop could use a breath of fresh air. GRIP HOP represents that. It demands your full attention, or none at all.
My signature style, which I showcase through GRIP HOP, has been shaped by many influences, both internal and external. Internally, I’m surrounded by creatives every day: producers, MCs, dancers. Within my close circle of friends, the way we make music naturally leans toward that GRIP HOP sound. Because we all listen to Grime, Hip Hop, and Neo-Soul/Jazz, a lot of our beats end up sounding like J Dilla-influenced Grime- raw, soulful, and layered. Externally, my biggest influences in Grime and Hip Hop have been J-Dilla, Busta Rhymes, Ghetts, and Dot Rotten (Zeph Ellis). Their sounds, energy, and approach to creativity have played a big role in how I express myself musically
GRIP HOP is the result of me sitting alone in a studio I owned in 2023, creating music from the most raw and honest part of myself at the time. From the production to the lyrics, even down to the mixing and mastering, this project is authentically me. The fusion of Hip Hop and Grime, with a fresh spin of melodic choruses, has been a powerful journey, and one I’m genuinely excited to share. When we talk about Hip Hop, we’re talking about a movement not just about rap music – we’re talking about a culture.
Hip Hop consists of five core elements:
That’s why, with GRIP HOP, my goal was to include enough substance to feed into all of these elements – from the loose, off-grid drums for the dancers, to the storytelling and concept-deep diving for the knowledge seekers. I’ve crafted this EP with real depth and precision, with the intention of bringing ART back in style – not just “making a tune and releasing it, tryna go viral.” Instead, I’m focused on how deeply I can move people. That, to me, is worth way more than any numbers on a screen. I’m coming from a unique angle. I’m only 21, but I’m heavily influenced by the past. I’m resurfacing what came before me and giving it a fresh, modern twist. Ultimately, I’m trying to explain something that’s just a feeling- it’s intuitive, and if you know, you know. GRIP HOP is a major restoration of that feeling.
This performance is easily my biggest milestone so far, and honestly, I’m both grateful and a bit shocked that I was chosen. Because my style and approach are so unorthodox, it can sometimes feel like people don’t fully get it yet. But to see that I’ve made enough of an impact to be placed on a major stage, next to major names, is a big confirmation for me. This is what I’ve been waiting for. Performing is one of my strengths as an artist, I enjoy it . I’ve just been waiting on a stage that’s ready for me.
So, the central theme is, of course, the sound of GRIP HOP itself. The EP serves as both a demonstration and an introduction to my self-crafted, raw sound. But beneath that, each track tells its own story.
1.“Not Everything” – The smooth introduction to GRIPHOP. “Not Everything” has a confident vibe, balancing self-growth and personal ambitions with relationship pressures.
2.“Three Shots” – A Triumphant, bold, cinematic anthem celebrating wins and victory through hardship.
3. “When It Rains” – A deeply personal story-telling track about resilience through broken family structure
4.“Chosen One” – A grime-hip-hop fusion with mysterious, orchestral intensity. perfect for film, gaming, and brand placements.
5.“Hit Record ft. Varntae”– An ethereal anthem about confidence, self-belief, and overcoming adversity with spiritual strength and purpose.
That moment was a huge boost for me. It happened back in 2022, I was 18 at the time, and it honestly felt surreal. It was like… one night I went to sleep with not much going on, and the next morning I woke up to a shout-out from Ghetts. We’ve crossed paths and spoken multiple times since, and every time, it’s a vibe of mutual respect. I’m genuinely and wholesomely grateful for his support. Ghetts has been my favourite MC for years, and I’ve learned a lot just by studying his craft. As for unexpected opportunities? Let’s just say… there’s more to come.
That collaboration came about in a super unorthodox way. So, long story short… my mum went to uni with Delroy Corinaldi, the Founder and CEO of an organisation called The Black Footballers Partnership (BFP). Delroy needed a catchy theme tune for BFP; they had a major campaign coming up focused on the 2024 European Cup. My mum was working with BFP at the time and recommended me and my cousin Ke4t (bad boy producer) for the job. We made the track — and Delroy loved it. One of BFP’s Co-Founders, Eartha Pond, is friends with Toddla T, so Delroy linked us up and arranged for me and Ke4t to head down to Toddla’s studio in London for post-production and mastering. That’s also where Sky Sports came through and interviewed us. The Guardian got involved too — about a week later, they came up to Brum and interviewed us at No.5 Barristers’ Chambers, who support BFP and let us use their space for the piece. Big up BFP for the opportunity. Since then, me and Toddla T have been proper bredrins. We even dropped a freestyle challenge recently on a beat I made at his studio, The Steeze Factory. So yeah… big shout out to my mum, for real. None of this would’ve happened without her. She’s a real action taker.
Reason 1 – Musical IQ. To put it bluntly, and I don’t say this lightly, being good at music is a form of creative intelligence, just like being good at English, Science or Maths. You can learn to be good at music, but the realness, the instinct, that’s something you’re either born with or not. Rhythm is felt. It’s resonance. That level of musical IQ, the ability to arrange layers of sound with true depth and intention, is rare. And without classical or theoretical training, not many artists are able to take orchestration or cinematic elements to that next level.
Reason 2 – Fear of standing out. Let’s be real, people are scared to step outside the box of what’s considered ‘normal’. If one person starts dancing in the street alone and no one joins in, what do people say? “It’s embarrassing.” “They’re crazy.” Exactly. That’s why not many take creative risks. They’re waiting for someone else to move first.
It’s not a task for the weak. Seriously. But the one thing that has kept me grounded and motivated along this path is… my own music. My creations are like my babies. When I listen back to them, I think to myself, “I can’t leave this world without putting these out.” I just know the feeling my music gives is valuable and not just the feeling, but the thoughts it provokes too. I genuinely believe it would be a disservice not just to myself, but to the universe if I didn’t share my music with as many souls as possible.
“Chosen One” has given me shivers up my spine more than once. The dark yet luminous harmony of the instruments and vocals, especially on the chorus, makes me instantly picture an intense, emotional, action-packed movie trailer. The outro breakdown, where the track strips back to just drums and e-piano, adds this powerful, cinematic tension that I think would land perfectly in a trailer or dramatic scene. If you listen closely to the project, you’ll notice there’s a recurring theme of rain, both sonically and symbolically. So any intense, meaningful media with a visual rain theme – whether that’s a film, series, or high-concept game – would pair really well with “Chosen One.”
The EP drops on April 25th, right in the middle of both the Birmingham and London CBSO shows. Big waves are moving right now – don’t miss the ride
Discover CreezOn on all major platforms via this link.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Cami Bear marks her return with the unapologetically sharp single, matchacoldbrew, ushering listeners into a fearless new era defined by confidence and contradiction. Rejecting expectations to fully embrace intuition, Cami unpacks her fresh artistic philosophy, inviting us into a creatively liberated space that feels both vivid and deeply personal. Partnering with Atlas Lens Co., whose cinematic credentials include groundbreaking films like Everything Everywhere All at Onceand The Batman, she crafts an emotionally tactile universe steeped in glamour and grit. Through this conversation, Cami candidly discusses the tension between digital experimentation and human imperfection, the courage behind creative reinvention, and the importance of celebrating chaos as much as polish. With characteristic wit and honesty, she offers a look into her newest chapter, challenging her audience—and herself—to boldly claim their own contradictions.
This shift came from finally giving myself permission to create without overthinking. I used to mold myself to expectations—whether industry, aesthetic, or sound—but matchacoldbrew is me trusting my instincts. It’s playful, sassy, and layered, like me. I wanted to reintroduce myself with something that felt effortless yet intentional, letting the music and visuals speak before I did.
I don’t see reinvention as abandoning past versions of myself—it’s more like evolving them. Every chapter of Cami Bear thus far has been real to where I was at that time. I let my instincts guide what stays and what gets left behind. The key is staying honest. If a sound, a look, or an idea doesn’t feel real to me anymore, I don’t force it.
The collaboration happened organically, Atlas Lens Co. teamed up with talented director and editor Max Lin to carry out this submission-based initiative called “MONTH2MONTH” where they hand-picked brands and artists to sponsor a video for and spotlight monthly. I submitted a pitch earlier this year and Max replied the next day, the rest was history. Having their lenses shape this video gave it a timeless quality. It means everything to know that a company of such high calibre, behind some of the most powerful films today (Anora, Everything Everywhere all at Once, The Batman) and ever is now part of my story too. I’m so grateful to their whole team and everyone involved. I’m still wrapping my head around it.
It had to feel tactile like you could step into it. I wanted viewers and listeners to relive that night and that morning with me. Channeling something so oddly specific through art is challenging but we stuck to our gut and opted for the details that bring you to that place, no matter how niche. Cinematic lighting and movement were non-negotiables. In terms of visuals, we wanted it to transport you to the darkest places of the morning after while still keeping it fabulous, this goes for styling as well. Emotionally, I wanted a balance of dreaminess and sass—something surreal yet unapologetically me. I played with contrast a lot: soft moments with sharp edges, fantasy with reality. It’s all about duality for me.
High contrast is my thing, we really wanted to make it pop here. To put it in the most simple terms this whole song is about embracing the good in the bad. I took my Sunday Scaries spin on that. I asked my creative team: How do we make the ugly look and feel glamorous? How do we make lyrics about bad times feel cute? Listen to the song today and watch the video on April 18th, I think we did a great job at answering those questions.
I’ve always said that a huge part of my mission as a creative is to bridge the gap between technology and emotions. I play with technology a lot. Technology allows me to explore textures and moods I haven’t quite found the words for. But no matter how much I experiment, I always leave room for imperfection. That’s where the human side comes in. I’m drawn to first takes, breaths between words, things that feel alive, and visuals that don’t feel conventionally perfect.
I think my audience is growing with me. They’re seeing me take creative risks, and hopefully, that’s making space for them to do the same in their own lives. I want them to take away the idea that reinvention isn’t about fixing yourself—it’s about uncovering who you’ve been all along. That means embracing your mistakes, your boldness, your messiness—every unpolished and chaotic part of yourself. I want them to feel unapologetically them and to take up space without second-guessing it. And honestly, I just think it’s hilarious that I’m conveying all of this through the time I walked home from a one-night stand. I love art!
Collaboration keeps me inspired. I’ve been working with people who challenge me in the best ways, pushing me outside my comfort zone. Also, daily rituals—matcha in the morning (of course), working out, and spending time offline. Protecting my energy is key to keeping this momentum going.
Stream Cami Bear on Spotify.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Moroccan-American artist XXLTARIK is storming through Jersey’s music scene with his spectral and darkly sultry approach to RnB, creatively spliced with alt-pop sensibilities and contemporary funk grooves. His latest single, ‘RUNAWAY’, sidesteps the usual pitfalls of superficial hooks, pulling listeners instead into a deeper, emotionally raw narrative that feels hauntingly personal despite the slick, polished production.
XXLTARIK’s ability to alchemise genuine emotive candour with melodies flooded with unflinching momentum turns ‘RUNAWAY’ into an infectiously arresting anthem—guaranteed to hype any listener, whatever their backdrop. His vocals refuse pretence, showcasing flawless command as authenticity surges through each note, effortlessly oscillating between gritty vulnerability and smooth sophistication.
The track confronts the human tendency to expose our vulnerabilities to those least worthy of them. Through this emotional transparency, XXLTARIK makes ‘RUNAWAY’ resonate as both confession and cautionary tale, exploring the shadows we willingly inhabit for fleeting connections.
With funk-driven rhythms underpinning his dark wave alt-RnB textures, XXLTARIK ensures ‘RUNAWAY’ is a tour-de-force, defined by its depth and cross-over appeal.
‘RUNAWAY’ is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify.
Review by Amelia Vandergast
Ginger Winn composes to crystallise the moments that cut deepest. With Freezing warming the airwaves and Freeze Frame poised to follow, the Nashville-born artist sat down with A&R Factory to reflect on how loss, love, and legacy have shaped her evolving sound. In this interview, Ginger opens up about the personal grief that seeped into the fabric of her latest work, the creative freedom she found with co-producer A.J. Yorio, and how years spent ghostwriting laid the groundwork for her most honest record to date. From the catharsis of returning to a heavier sound to the role of art as emotional excavation, this conversation is for anyone who understands what it means to hold on while letting go.
-Freezing is a reminder to cherish the people you love while you have them. We all have memories we wish we could freeze in time. When I flew out to Ohio to record with AJ Yorio (co-producer of Freeze Frame), he had written a piece of music, but no lyrics were coming to him. So he sent it to me. Around the same time, Matt (my co-writer and half of Keep Good Company, my label) had just sent me the lyrics to a new song. I immediately thought, “1+1=2”—these two pieces fit together. And that’s how Freezing was born. I had just lost my dad very unexpectedly, and this song became incredibly therapeutic for me during the worst of it.
-As I mentioned, my dad passed away in November of last year. Unfortunately, he chose to leave us. It was something I always knew might happen, but nothing can prepare you for how it feels when it actually does. That loss inevitably shaped the underlying tone of Freeze Frame. The most ironic part is that this would have been my dad’s favorite album of mine—he loved indie, alt, and rock music.
-When I first started making albums, I was about 12. My mom and I would write an album every year for almost ten years. Up until around 2020, I had a bit of an old-school rock sound. Then I decided to try pop music. Freeze Frame is really just a return to the sound that first rooted me.
-Me and AJ in the studio was like watching two kids throw paint on a canvas to see what happens. It felt like we had complete freedom to try anything, and I think that really comes through in the music. I walked in with ten fully produced demos, and Matt and I gave AJ the freedom to experiment with anything he heard—rearranging, changing chords, whatever.
-I always enjoy playing at the Colony in Woodstock, mainly because of the sound quality, but also because the aesthetic is spectacular. Catch me and AJ there on May 1st. It’ll be a special treat because he’s coming all the way from Cincinnati!
-I’ve been doing music since before I can remember—literally. My dad gave me a ukulele when I was a baby, and since then I’ve always had one to play. When something deeply affects me, I write about it. It’s funny because until I was about 17, I was afraid I couldn’t write lyrics. Melodies always came easily to me, but my mom handled the lyrics in the beginning. I should have realized that my only issue was that I had nothing to write about—I hadn’t lived enough yet. I say that jokingly, but it’s kind of true.
-When I moved to Cape Town, I needed to make money, and music was one of the few things I was really good at. High school dropouts aren’t exactly qualified for much! Living in Cape Town felt like living in a different reality—six to seven hours ahead of my family in the U.S., experiencing summer while it was winter back home. I changed a lot there. I stopped dreaming of stardom and fame and focused on making great music, whether for myself or others.
For the most part, I was writing and producing for others because, like I said, I needed the money and they were paying. I learned how to write and produce for different artists—I even filmed and directed a music video for someone. Those two years in Cape Town felt like four years of college because I was producing, writing, and singing for eight hours a day. I went a full year without taking a single day off. It was the definition of grinding, and honestly, I only did it because I had to.
When Matt and Tina came into my life and decided they wanted to make an album with the music we had written together, I was like, “Alright, sounds good.” I didn’t take it seriously until about a month before they flew me to New York to record with David Baron. Then it all suddenly became very real.
-All gigs kind of feel the same to me. It’s not that I don’t like performing, but it’s not my favorite part of the business. I’m a bit of a homebody sometimes. My main focus when performing is creating a great experience for the audience—keeping listeners on their toes and sharing the message to cherish the moments and people in their lives because you never know when they’ll be gone.
-I want them to take away my personal mantra: cherish what you have now. The people, the moments, the situations—because we never know what the future holds. The greatest gift you can give yourself is to love the people in your life right now. Be open, reach out, push yourself outside of your comfort zone. Life is beautiful, but only if you choose to see it that way.
Discover Ginger Winn’s discography on Spotify.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
ShadowHart’s debut LP Get In, I’m Driving tips its hat to early 2000s pop punk and drags it through a contemporary lens with orchestral flourishes, polyrhythmic guts, and a lyrical backbone that pushes past adolescent angst and into something more redemptive. In this exclusive interview with A&R Factory, the solo creative force behind ShadowHart opens up about the intricacies of building a sound that’s as technically bold as it is emotionally grounded. From composing music that tells a story before a single lyric is laid down to embracing the absurdity of mental clutter, ShadowHart isn’t playing it safe. If you’ve ever wondered what pop punk could sound like if it were rebuilt from the ground up with intention, invention, and a solid dose of self-awareness, this is one interview you won’t want to miss
The first rock band I ever joined was an emo cover band. I hadn’t really experienced the genre before then – I grew up learning guitar via classic rock, and I was fascinated by metal music. But then I started listening and learning the tracks for the emo band and found influence from both of my favorite genres: melodic choruses and harmonies fused with high-energy distorted guitars. It was the perfect blend to stay musically interesting while reinvigorating the head bang. The audience that grew up on pop punk music wants to feel the nostalgia from when that music was popular, but ShadowHart sees a need for resolution from the angsty lyrics and depressive themes of the 2000s.
This record is exactly that – a ride full of excitement. ShadowHart takes you on a journey from a core sound and pushes the genre uniquely on each track, a hub-and-spoke approach to composition. If you listen carefully, you can hear influences from all corners of rock, punk, and metal music in this album. As ShadowHart’s debut record, Get In, I’m Driving invites listeners to experience the resurgence of their favorite anthems under a new, refreshing light. ShadowHart’s message is centered on finding triumph in the human aspects of life, like having friends who forgive you when you make mistakes, or recognizing your weaknesses and being able to laugh about them. There’s a track entitled “Looks Like We Made It” that acknowledges the struggles this generation grew up with and encourages listeners to look around and recognize everything they’ve accomplished. The album opens and closes with the same theme for a reason: there are plenty of songs about breaking up, but nobody sings about the good experiences we often forget to appreciate.
Sting said it best in an interview with Rick Beato, where he alluded to the “circular trap” of modern music, which enables songs and lyrics to continue endlessly into one another, but you never get a sense of release musically or lyrically. He was specifically referring to the observation that most songs no longer have a bridge, which is usually a key change that resolves the tension in the song. I found that discussion inspiring, and I realized that in today’s music, a song itself can be a resolution from the past 20 minutes… or 15 years… of angst. ShadowHart takes the sounds listeners love and provides hope in the wake of societal crises that we’re all facing every day.
The trait that sets ShadowHart apart from other genre enthusiasts is the complexity of the music. Each mix is robust and powerful, revealing secrets in its own special way, but they all maintain a central, core feeling. Nobody’s going to make the next “Dear Maria, Count Me In,” despite how hard many artists are trying. The challenge with making an impact today is giving the people something different musically while making them feel something they remember. Guitars, bass, and drums aren’t enough for a rock hit in 2025. I used influence from all ends of the musical spectrum – not just pop punk – to make these tracks, including references from bands like ERRA, Memphis May Fire, and even One Direction. Why? Because people LIKE it. Listeners think they know what they like until they hear something truly striking. Each track in Get In, I’m Driving pushes the boundary of modern music with the intent of achieving that movement in the listener’s soul – movement that they didn’t know they weren’t prepared to experience.
The hardest part of doing everything yourself is quite honestly that it’s impossible, especially if you work full time. You can’t possibly record, mix, master, promote, and market yourself while simultaneously playing live, coordinating photography, designing merch, running advertisements, securing copyrights, and everything else that comes with the music industry. When you are working alone, every commitment is a trade-off. As an example, I quit performing live for nearly a year in order to complete this studio album, because I recognized it needed that level of dedication.
That said, ShadowHart is backed already by mentors, producers, media workers, and other musicians who have helped me on my journey. The next step is to take my digital presence to a live setting, which means I’ll need a band. I’m moving to Oklahoma City this summer in hopes to find like-minded and skilled musicians to collaborate with. ShadowHart’s biggest limitations are time and money. I’ve been grinding at this for over 3 years and made massive strategic moves, setting a foundation to build an empire, but I can only accomplish so much by myself. I’ll need a dedicated team including musicians, publicists, digital media coordinators, and investors who are all willing to go the distance both in and out of the studio to make ShadowHart a global reality.
An old mentor of mine, Shelly Berg (phenomenal jazz pianist, by the way) once told me, “Every song has a story.” When I begin writing a new track, I first think of the story I want it to tell – the emotion I want the listener to feel – and I compose from there. The goal, and the challenge, is to tell the story musically before ever adding the lyrics. If you listen carefully in “Trains, Planes, and Automobiles” there’s a breakdown section where the rhythm guitars start chugging along like a steam train’s exhaust, then a second guitar comes in with a “train horn” (minor 7th chord) over the top, followed by an octave “dinging” from the piano, like the station departure bell. Similarly, “Calcified” is a 4-chord song, but the main vocal harmony note is actually a major 2nd interval, creating dissonance over a major chord that pulls on your heart, like forcing a fake smile. In both cases, I’ve painted the picture with the music before ever adding lyrics, so the process is fun and exciting for me from the beginning.
Regardless of the nature of the feeling, ShadowHart is designed to make you feel – a concept which is often left out of contemporary radio hits. “Trains, Planes, and Automobiles” may seem goofy at first, but beneath the surface is a very real and embarrassing mental struggle that many young adults deal with. If you dig deeper into “Calcified,” you’ll find we never actually lyrically discover what happened to the narrator, just the numbness and sorrow he feels. People who thoughtfully listen to Get In, I’m Driving will discover that every track has a very meaningful message behind the curtain.
We’ve refined the sound pretty deliberately over the past few years, so at this point ShadowHart is looking outward. The ripped heart logo means something very real, and the next step is to find buy-in from others. I’m reaching out to similar artists with the intent to collaborate on some studio work – so if anyone is interested in featuring ShadowHart on your next track, please feel free to reach out!
Every ShadowHart song online was designed to be played for a live audience, “The ShadowHart Experience,” if you will. The mixes are massive, and the tracks encourage audience participation, bringing energy that multiplies in the presence of more people. If listeners commit to enjoying ShadowHart the way it’s intended, I promise anyone will have fun. I intend to bring ShadowHart to the stage now and set the conditions for fanbase investment. Step one is to build an awesome band.
Hear ShadowHart’s latest releases on Spotify and find out more about the artist via their official website.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
Between smoky stage setups and stripped-bare blues ballads, JohnnyTheWidower is steering independent music into a space where authenticity is the standard. In this interview, he opens up about the heartbreak-fuelled pulse of Broken Piano, the intimate electricity of his live shows, and the broader mission powering FLOWCEx Music. There’s no PR gloss or industry fluff here—just an artist building a legacy out of grief, grit, and grassroots growth. From the Kickstarter campaign that’s setting the stage for a wider movement to the way each show becomes a live-wire retelling of personal rebirth, Johnny offers a candid and compelling glimpse into what it really means to be a modern DIY artist with a message. Whether you’re new to his music or already part of the VIBE sessions, this is one read that’s worth sticking with to the final note.
The album comes to life as a story—a journey through loss, loneliness, and heartbreak, but also resilience and rebirth. Broken Piano is deeply emotional, but it also lays the foundation for my next album, JTW Come Alive, which represents that turning point—stepping out of the darkness and into light.
On stage, I want the audience to feel that transformation. The scene opens dark and intimate—a dimly lit bluesy setting with an upright piano, upright bass, drums, and guitar quartet. There’s a bottle of whiskey on the piano, shot glasses on the table, cigars in the air. That’s where I introduce “My Lady Is Gone”, the song that truly defines JohnnyTheWidower.
From there, the emotion deepens with “I Never Let Go”, the second single from Broken Piano, followed by “Be My Friend”, a song from my COVID Universe album that shifts the mood toward connection and hope.
This set isn’t just about performing songs—it’s about immersing the audience in my world, taking them through the pain, but also showing them the strength to move forward.
Expansion, without a doubt. If you check out my YouTube channel, you’ll see that I’ve already started building something bigger—I’ve done two episodes of JohnnyTheWidower: The Reality Series, I host open mic events, and heck, I even do Shakespeare!
VIBE has been about connecting with listeners in an authentic way, and my live performances will only elevate that experience. The energy, the storytelling, the raw emotion—it’s all about bringing people into my world in real time.
Moving forward, I’m evolving VIBE with new segments to deepen that connection:
Musicians Speak – A platform where studio musicians and struggling band members can share their journeys, talk about their grind, and promote their work.
The Healing Power of Music – A holistic segment where we’ll meditate and explore how music can heal, uplift, and transform lives.
At the core of everything I do, whether it’s VIBE or my live performances, the goal remains the same: to create an experience that resonates, inspires, and connects people through music.
It’s all part of the creative process. Mixing My Lady Is Gone myself was an important step, but when it comes to mastering the full album, I need fresh ears on it. It’s like being a doctor—you don’t want to be the one diagnosing and treating your own condition. I’ve been hands-on with my music for years, but this time, I want outside expertise to make sure Broken Piano reaches its full potential.
For a long time, my music was stagnant, and I know that’s due to one of two things:
1️-Lack of marketing and promotion (which I strongly believe is the issue)
2️-Mixing & mastering quality (which could play a role, but I won’t know until I remove that variable)
That’s why I’m making the investment in professional mixing and mastering—to eliminate doubt and give these songs the best chance to shine.
And hey, if you know anyone who’ll do it on spec—send them my way!
Absolutely—“Somebody’s Gonna Win, Somebody’s Gonna Lose” is built for the live stage.
It’s a blues jam session at its core—loose, raw, and unpredictable. This is one of those songs that can go on and onbecause every time I perform it, it takes on a new energy. I swear, I’ve never played it the same way twice—which my guitarist loves because he gets to rock out, but my drummer and bassist? Not so much.
But that’s the beauty of it. In a live setting, this song breathes—it becomes its own thing. And the audience feels that freedom, that spontaneity, that real musicianship happening in the moment.
When Broken Piano hits the stage, this track is gonna be a show-stopper.
With FLOWCEx Music in motion, do you see your upcoming gigs as a platform for showcasing other artists under your wing, or will the focus be on cementing your own presence first?
I’m only as good as my roster—my team. My project is out front right now because it was the most cost-effective wayto set the stage for FLOWCEx Music.
Since September 2024, I’ve produced:
Two full albums (8 tracks each) on myself
A 10-track compilation featuring 8 different artists
If I had tried to launch with another artist first, I’d still be working on one album—and I would have spent twice as much already.
This was strategic—I needed to establish the standard, create the blueprint, and launch a promotional campaign that will eventually filter other artists through the pipeline.
So when I perform, if my artists are available, they’re on that stage with me. Every time. Because FLOWCEx Music is bigger than just me—it’s a movement.
Right now, my touring is local out of practicality—we’re a startup label, so I’m not booked on a national tour… yet. But that doesn’t mean I’m not making strategic moves to expand my presence.
I perform regularly at Kingston Public House, a whiskey bar in Brooklyn, and this spring/summer, I’ll be hitting Prospect Park at the BandShell.
Beyond that, as the creator of Performing Artists in Real Estate—a group of artists who also sell real estate—I’ll be performing at our monthly mixers, tapping into a network that blends business, art, and entertainment.
And I’m always on the hunt for bigger stages. I plan to throw my name in the hat for opening slots at major venues like The Barclays Center, Billie Holiday Theatre, Madison Square Garden, and Brooklyn Academy of Music.
That’s where the Kickstarter and marketing push come in. This campaign—and interviews like this—aren’t just about funding. They’re about building visibility and momentum. The more people engage with my movement, the more leverage I have to secure bigger opportunities and bring FLOWCEx Music to a wider audience.
Music is meant to make you feel good—but nowadays, a lot of it vibrates at an aggressive frequency. When you come to my show or listen to my music, I don’t want you to feel aggressive—I want you to feel happy, warm, loved, inspired, amused, and thoroughly entertained.
I want to make you smile and cry at the same time. I want to tell a story that keeps you riveted, one that stays with you long after the last note fades.
Most importantly, I want my audience to feel loved. When I cook for people, I do it with love—choosing the best ingredients for the most flavorful outcome. I approach music the same way. Every lyric, every melody, every performance—it’s all crafted to nourish the soul.
That’s what I want people walking away with—an experience they’ll never forget.
My bigger vision is to run FLOWCEx Music as a full-fledged independent label. Right now, I’m out front, performing and pushing the movement, but ultimately, I want to fall back from constant gigging and shift my focus to mentorship, artist development, and strategic growth for the label.
The young, hungry artists on my roster? I want them gigging non-stop. That’s what they want, and that’s what I want for them. My job is to make sure they have the right opportunities, the right support, and the right platform to shine.
At my core, I’m a builder and a guide. I’ve walked this path, I know the struggles, and I want to pave the way for the next generation. FLOWCEx Music isn’t just about me—it’s about creating a legacy of independent artists thriving on their own terms.
Stream JohnnyTheWidower’s latest single on Bandcamp now.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
The days when crowdfunding was hailed as the saviour of independent musicians feel like a distant memory. Back in 2012, Amanda Palmer turned heads by raising nearly $1.2 million on Kickstarter to fund an album, tour, and book, sparking hopes that the platform would change the industry forever. Fast-forward to 2025, and Kickstarter’s latest ‘Creative Download’ report barely acknowledges music. While games, comics, and tech continue to rake in millions, musicians are finding it harder than ever to meet their funding goals.
The stark reality is that crowdfunding is no longer the golden ticket it once was, and artists are facing the brutal challenge of financing their careers in an era where everything costs more, and attention spans are shorter than ever.
Music is still the second-largest category in terms of successfully funded projects on Kickstarter, but that statistic means little when most of its biggest success stories belong to the 2010s. Major campaigns from artists like De La Soul, Delta Rae, TLC, and even Palmer herself have long since passed, leaving little in their wake. Where once musicians could rally fans around an ambitious project and watch the pledges roll in, the platform has been overrun by board games, tech gadgets, and comic books.
Part of the shift comes down to visibility. Kickstarter’s algorithm now favours what’s trending, and it’s rarely a DIY musician trying to press a vinyl run or fund a tour. The crowdfunding model still works, but only for artists who can generate significant engagement before their campaign even launches. Even those with a solid fanbase struggle to cut through the noise, especially when competing against projects that promise backers flashy physical rewards rather than just a download link.
Crowdfunding isn’t just failing because of changing trends—musicians are also up against an economic climate that makes financing their careers a nightmare. The cost of existing as an independent artist has skyrocketed, making every aspect of releasing music and touring more expensive than ever.
For many artists, the financial squeeze means choosing between paying rent or funding a new project, leaving Kickstarter and other crowdfunding platforms as a last resort rather than a viable business model.
Despite the bleak outlook, crowdfunding hasn’t completely lost its potential—artists just need to be smarter about how they use it. Here are a few ways to increase the likelihood of success:
If Kickstarter isn’t delivering, artists need to explore other revenue streams. Here are a few options:
It’s easy to say, “Get creative with your funding,” but the reality is that surviving as an independent musician in 2025 is brutally difficult. The industry has never been more saturated, the cost of creating and distributing music has never been higher, and platforms that once felt like lifelines—Kickstarter, Bandcamp, even streaming—now seem to be working against artists rather than for them.
Crowdfunding is still an option, but it’s no longer the safety net it once was. Those who make it work do so through relentless engagement, smart marketing, and diversifying their income streams. For everyone else, the choice is stark: adapt or get left behind. While the industry continues to demand more from musicians while paying them less, the fight for sustainability is far from over.
Article by Amelia Vandergast