Browsing Tag

new music

Front Porch Panache Met Boom Bap as Wolf Richards Unveiled ‘Memphis Delta Rap’

Wolf Richards shipped boom bap down the Mississippi Delta in his latest single, Memphis Delta Rap, a track that lets hip-hop history and Delta blues heritage sit in the same smoke-filled room. The baritone guitar strings that sound as though they have rusted in the humidity of the production introduce the single before a deep, heavy groove locks everything into motion.

Following his instrumental album Epic Tales, Richards completes his 2026 hip-hop trilogy with a release that stretches across more than a century of Black American sound. After the Caribbean-bossa-nova flavour of Take It Slow and the jazz-blues big-band energy of Blue Note Bap, Memphis Delta Rap closes the circle with slide guitar, harmonica blows and roots-deep Americana symbolism wrapped around old-school hip-hop weight.

The percussion stays electric while the strings evoke front-porch panache and leave the roster of emcees enough space to bring their own flavour of fire. It would be easy for the release to fracture into a showcase reel, but the swampy Americana alchemy paired with Richards’ musical intelligence enmeshes the individual character of the bars with complete cohesion. It is as though the emcees have gathered around the same mythic porch light.

If another artist explored this intersection of seemingly contrasting genres, it could easily fall into novelty experimentation, but Richards knows exactly how to finesse the fusion into a synergy of soul and swagger. The crucial distinction is that the blues is played for real; it breathes through the performance, giving the track a living root system beneath the boom-bap reverberations.

Memphis Delta Rap succeeds because it respects both traditions while chasing a fresh form from the dust between them.

Memphis Delta Rap is now available to stream on all major platforms, including YouTube.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

TROUBLE Twisted Pop and EDM into an Untameable Dancefloor Rush with ‘that’s the way’

With their sophomore single, that’s the way, the already iconic duo TROUBLE unleashed another earworm that will stick around for long enough for you to be tempted to charge it rent. This time, TROUBLE locked their sight on the dancefloor and dropped the ultimate chameleonic floor filler. Few dancefloor DJs will fail to be seduced by the bordering feral glamour of the single.

After an intro which harbingers an intense burst of rhythmically injected energy, just when you think they have delivered a quintessential, messy Y2K EDM pop anthem, there is a seamlessly radical shift into a bass-heavy house floor filler before TROUBLE experiment with hyper funk elements and come into their own through a Latin pop twist courtesy of the bilingual vocals.

Built from glossy pop production and club-ready energy, the Nashville duo have already established an irreplicable artistic identity where infectious hooks meet bold visuals and unapologetic confidence. That willingness to lean into every strength gives **that’s the way enormous commercial appeal while preserving the personality that makes TROUBLE impossible to overlook. The mainstream could claim them, but they could never tame them, and that is exactly why we are obsessed with them

For fans of Charli XCX, COBRAH, Slayyyter.

that’s the way is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify. 

Review by Amelia Vandergast.

Bitten Tongues Become Dreamy Alt Indie Rock Catharsis in Bushwick Princess’ Latest single, Temkins

Brooklyn trio Bushwick Princess channelled the pulled teeth of compromised peace into Temkins, a reverb-rich alt indie rock allegory steeped in post-grunge, melodic 90s rock and shoegazed art rock. The fourth single from their EP carries the strain of relationships stalled by stubbornness, pride and too much shared history, where potential remains visible while honest conversation stays trapped behind bitten tongues.

Matt Francini’s vocals drift through spectral Thom Yorke-esque harmonies and Cornell-reminiscent gravel, holding onto their honeyed vulnerability as angular guitars and choral bass movements swell around him. Kane Delaney’s drums give the arrangement shifting physicality, while Andrew Miller’s bass and synth work deepen the sense of emotional suspension. Every contortion in the production visualises the strain of loving someone through an impasse, accepting imperfection while swallowing the words that might disturb a fragile peace.

Francini’s classical background, years spent moving through blues, rock, alternative rock and industrial music, and later vocal training feed directly into the song’s precision and emotional reach. Recorded through a 100% DIY ethos in his Brooklyn apartment, Temkins carries the intimacy of something lived at close range. Its universalised alienation pulls the listener from a tiny interpersonal world into a spiralling vortex of connection, delivering a deliciously timbral, multisensory, synaesthesia-inducing experience with the philosophical force of discovering Kafka, Camus or Dostoyevsky for the first time.

Temkins was officially released on July 16th and is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

oO5 Dynasty Interview: Inside the Haunted Architecture of Ghost Wav

In a rare exclusive interview, oO5 Dynasty, the creative alias of Jamel Marshall Pearson, opened the door to Ghost Wav with the rare clarity of an artist building a genre from lived history, memory and self-defined philosophy. Across this expansive interview, he traces the roots of the sound through early productions, family legacy, filmic atmosphere, dance, design, archiving and the tools that helped shape his musical language. The conversation moves through originality, preservation, creative ownership and the refusal to let algorithms flatten art into disposable repetition.

What follows is a manifesto for independent thought, emotional movement and a future where Ghost Wav grows through contribution rather than imitation.

Question 1

A&R Factory asked:
Ghost Wav is being positioned as a standalone genre rather than a loose sound or aesthetic. What was the first moment where you realised this had its own identity, rules and future?

Ghost Wav Wasn’t Created Overnight. I Had Been Chasing It for More Than 20 Years.

There are moments in life when your past suddenly begins making sense.

I’ve been experiencing that lately.

Every day, driving to and from work, I listen to my old productions. Records I made nearly twenty years ago with artists like Legend of New York, Pody, A.O. Baker, Gemstar, Arlis Michaels, and collaborations featuring Staxx Paper.

Most people probably haven’t heard these songs in years.

But I have.

I listen to them faithfully because they represent something much deeper than nostalgia.

They represent discovery.

As I replay those records today, I don’t hear old beats.

I hear the beginning of Ghost Wav.

## Before I Had a Name for It

Back then, I didn’t know music theory the way I do today.

I wasn’t thinking about pivot-chord modulation.

I wasn’t intentionally writing songs that ascended and descended emotionally.

I wasn’t thinking about cinematic movement as a philosophy.

I simply kept trying.

Every beat was another experiment.

Every song was another question.

Every recording session was another opportunity to discover something I didn’t know yesterday.

Looking back now, I realize something incredible.

I wasn’t trying to copy anyone.

I was following emotion.

That made all the difference.

## Trying Is One of Humanity’s Greatest Superpowers

People often believe creativity begins after enough tutorials.

I don’t.

Some of the most important work I’ve ever created came before I understood why it worked.

I had very little experience.

Very little formal understanding.

But I had curiosity.

I kept experimenting.

I kept building.

I kept failing.

Then trying again.

There’s something extraordinary about what happens when a human being focuses completely on one problem without worrying about everyone’s opinions.

That process teaches lessons no tutorial can.

## Listening With Twenty Years of Experience

Today I hear those records differently.

I hear melodies reaching for places I didn’t yet understand.

I hear arrangements trying to move instead of remaining static.

I hear atmosphere.

I hear emotion.

Most importantly…

I hear movement.

Not movement because I knew the theory.

Movement because that’s what felt right.

Ghost Wav didn’t suddenly appear in 2020.

The seeds were already there years earlier.

I simply hadn’t discovered the language to explain what I was hearing.

## The Artists Made Me Believe Even More

One thing continues to amaze me.

The artists sounded different on my productions.

Legend’s flow felt more natural.

The records breathed differently.

The music seemed to invite performances instead of forcing them.

Those same artists could rap over traditional boom bap, trap, drill, or downloaded industry instrumentals.

But something happened when they stepped onto my productions.

The songs became conversations instead of performances.

Looking back, I think it’s because the music itself was already telling a story before the vocals ever arrived.

## Ghost Wav Is the Evolution of That Discovery

Today I no longer depend on samples to create movement.

Now I can compose it.

I can change keys naturally.

I can guide emotion from one section to another.

I can layer orchestration.

I can build atmosphere through texture.

I can use reverb as an emotional instrument instead of just an effect.

I can shape space itself.

Everything I admired in great records—the movement, the tension, the release, the unexpected turns—I now understand well enough to build intentionally.

Ghost Wav isn’t replacing who I was.

It’s revealing who I was becoming all along.

## Looking Back Is Sometimes the Greatest Teacher

People often think progress only comes from looking forward.

Sometimes it comes from looking backward.

Listening to those old productions reminded me that my instincts were leading me long before my knowledge caught up.

That’s one of the greatest gifts experience gives you.

You begin understanding the younger version of yourself.

You stop judging your early work.

Instead, you appreciate its honesty.

You realize that your vision existed before your vocabulary.

## Ghost Wav Is More Than a Genre

People may hear Ghost Wav as a new genre of music.

I hear something different.

I hear twenty years of unanswered questions finally finding answers.

I hear every late night producing.

Every recording session.

Every artist.

Every melody.

Every mistake.

Every experiment.

Every moment I simply tried.

Ghost Wav isn’t just a sound.

It’s the destination my music had been walking toward long before I knew its name.

Sometimes your greatest creation isn’t something you invent overnight.

Sometimes it’s something you’ve been building your entire life without realizing it.

And one day…

You finally hear it.

“Ghost Wav isn’t a composition system. It’s a creative philosophy with a musical foundation.”
— oO5 Dynasty

 

Question 2

A&R Factory asked:
You describe Ghost Wav as combining cinematic atmosphere with groove and movement. How do you balance the filmic, almost world-building side of the sound with the physical pull that makes people want to move?

Ghost Wav Isn’t About Balancing Genres. It’s About Understanding What Each Genre Leaves Behind.

When people first hear Ghost Wav, they often ask the same question.

“How do you balance cinematic atmosphere with groove and movement?”

The truth is…

I don’t.

That question assumes I’m trying to combine two existing worlds and find a middle ground between them.

I’m not.

Ghost Wav was never created by balancing genres.

It was created by understanding them deeply enough to know what they were missing.

Every Genre Already Has Its Strengths

Hip-hop already has groove.

Reggae understands rhythm in a way few genres ever will.

Film scores have mastered atmosphere.

Cinematic music understands psychology.

Classical music understands harmony.

None of those things needed me to reinvent them.

They already existed.

The question wasn’t how to balance them.

The question was:

What happens when you remove the limitations each genre has?

That question changed everything.

Hip-Hop Taught Me Movement Through Rhythm

I grew up around hip-hop.

I grew up around reggae.

I danced.

I produced.

I performed.

I watched what music did to people.

When a beat drops…

People move.

When the groove locks in…

People stop thinking and start feeling.

Hip-hop has always understood physical movement.

But after years of producing, I noticed something.

Many songs became trapped inside their first loop.

The groove stayed.

The emotion didn’t always evolve.

The body of the song remained relatively static.

That wasn’t a criticism.

It was simply an observation.

I wanted music to keep moving emotionally the same way dancers move physically.

Cinema Taught Me Psychological Movement

Then there were movies.

I’ve always loved films.

Not just the stories.

The sound.

The silence.

The atmosphere.

Sometimes a sound happens before you even see what’s coming.

Sometimes one distant texture changes your emotional state before a single character speaks.

Film composers understand something incredible.

Music can move your emotions without saying a word.

That fascinated me.

But cinematic music often serves the picture.

It isn’t usually built around groove.

It creates atmosphere beautifully.

It doesn’t always invite your body to move.

Ghost Wav Began With Subtraction

This is where Ghost Wav started.

Not by adding everything together.

By subtracting.

I asked myself:

What if I removed stagnation from hip-hop?

What if I removed the lack of groove from cinematic music?

What if movement itself became the foundation?

Ghost Wav wasn’t built by combining genres.

It was built by removing the walls that kept those genres from reaching each other.

Music Theory Opened the Door

Once I understood that movement was the destination, I needed a way to create it intentionally.

That’s when music theory became essential.

Learning pivot-chord modulation changed everything.

Instead of remaining in one emotional space, I could guide a song naturally from one key to another.

A section could ascend.

Another could descend.

A major key could become a minor key.

A chorus could feel like it was lifting into the sky.

A verse could quietly fall back to earth.

Every four or eight bars, the emotional landscape could change without feeling forced.

The music itself began traveling.

That’s what Ghost Wav is.

A journey.

Movement Exists Beyond Melody

Movement isn’t only harmonic.

It’s spatial.

Most producers understand panning from left to right.

I became fascinated with another dimension.

Front to back.

What I think of as north and south.

Reverb stacking became one of the ways I explored that space.

Instead of simply making sounds “wet,” I began placing them at different emotional distances.

Some instruments feel close enough to touch.

Others sound like they’re echoing from the horizon.

Sometimes a texture appears once in an entire song and never returns.

Not because it needs repetition.

Because it only exists to move the listener emotionally at that exact moment.

Every sound has a purpose.

The Instrumental Should Already Tell a Story

One philosophy guides everything I create.

The instrumental should already be telling a story before the artist ever begins singing or rapping.

When vocals finally arrive, they shouldn’t create the story.

They should continue one that already exists.

That’s why Ghost Wav doesn’t feel like a collection of loops.

It feels like traveling through scenes.

Each section reveals another piece of the journey.

Ghost Wav Is About Human Emotion

People sometimes assume Ghost Wav is defined by cinematic textures.

Or reverb.

Or modulation.

Or orchestration.

Those are tools.

The real foundation is movement.

Psychological movement.

Emotional movement.

Physical movement.

Ghost Wav asks one simple question throughout every composition:

How can this next moment make the listener feel something different from the last?

When every section answers that question…

The song begins to float.

Like a ghost.

Not because it’s haunting.

But because it’s always moving.

Never standing still.

“Marketing Shows Possibilities. Research Reveals Purpose.”
— oO5 Dynasty

 

Question 3

A&R Factory asked:
Your creative background stretches across production, recording, filmmaking, design, choreography and content creation. How much of Ghost Wav comes from seeing music as something visual, physical and architectural at the same time?

Ghost Wav Was Already Inside Me. My Life Simply Gave It a Voice.

One of my favorite questions people ask is how my background in production, recording, filmmaking, design, choreography, and entertainment shaped Ghost Wav.

I like the question because it goes deeper than asking what software I use or what inspires a particular song.

It asks something much bigger.

How does a lifetime become a genre?

For me, the answer is surprisingly simple.

Ghost Wav didn’t come from looking outward.

It came from looking inward.

Your Genre Might Already Be Inside You

One thing I’ve tried to encourage creators to do throughout my career is to stop looking for themselves in other people’s work.

Today, we’re surrounded by tutorials, algorithms, trends, and social media telling us what successful music should sound like.

People spend years studying existing genres.

Very few spend time studying themselves.

That’s backwards.

Hip-hop isn’t my genre.

I love it.

I grew up with it.

I’ve produced it.

I’ve danced to it.

I’ve lived it.

But I didn’t create it.

The same is true for cinematic music.

I love film scores.

I love the way they manipulate emotion.

I love how they create atmosphere before a single word is spoken.

But I didn’t create that either.

Ghost Wav came from asking a different question.

What does my own life sound like?

Every Experience Leaves a Fingerprint

People often think inspiration comes from listening to more music.

Sometimes it comes from paying attention to your own life.

Everything I experienced found its way into Ghost Wav.

Music production.

Recording sessions.

Songwriting.

Graphic design.

Filmmaking.

Dance.

Graffiti.

Photography.

Watching movies.

Listening to background scores that many people never even notice.

Even the way I watch a film is different.

Some people leave the theater talking about the actors.

Some leave talking about the story.

I often leave thinking about a sound that lasted three seconds.

A distant texture.

A subtle melody.

A single musical phrase that completely changed the emotional weight of a scene.

Those moments stay with me.

Eventually they became part of my music.

Ghost Wav Existed Before It Had a Name

One realization changed everything for me.

Ghost Wav didn’t suddenly appear when I named it.

It was already inside me.

Looking back at productions I made in the early 2000s, I can hear it.

Not perfectly.

Not fully developed.

But it’s there.

The emotional movement.

The atmosphere.

The desire to escape repetition.

The instinct to let music evolve instead of remaining static.

At the time I didn’t understand why I kept chasing those ideas.

I had no theory.

No terminology.

No philosophy.

I was simply following instinct.

Years later I finally understood what those instincts had been trying to teach me.

Creativity Is an Organic Process

People sometimes ask me which skill influenced Ghost Wav the most.

Was it dancing?

Producing?

Film?

Design?

Music theory?

The honest answer is…

All of them.

And none of them individually.

Ghost Wav wasn’t built by selecting one discipline over another.

It emerged naturally from the totality of my life.

Every experience contributed something.

Every mistake contributed something.

Every success contributed something.

Every late-night studio session.

Every conversation.

Every performance.

Every experiment.

It all accumulated until one day I finally recognized the pattern.

Protecting My Own Voice

Throughout my career I was fortunate enough to work with talented artists and spend time around people who had already achieved remarkable success.

Those experiences taught me a great deal.

But one lesson mattered more than any other.

Never lose your own voice.

It’s easy to spend your life chasing the next trend.

Boom bap.

Trap.

Drill.

Afrobeats.

Whatever dominates the moment.

There’s nothing wrong with appreciating those genres.

The danger comes when they replace your own identity.

I never wanted to become someone else’s echo.

I wanted to discover what was uniquely mine.

Ghost Wav became the result of that decision.

What If Everyone Looked Within?

Sometimes I wonder what music would sound like if more people stopped trying to fit into existing categories.

What if every creator spent less time asking,

“What’s popular?”

and more time asking,

“What already exists inside me?”

Maybe we’d discover genres that don’t exist yet.

Maybe we’d hear sounds no one has imagined.

Maybe music would continue evolving instead of repeating itself.

That’s one of the reasons I openly share the philosophy behind Ghost Wav.

Not because I want people to copy it.

Quite the opposite.

I hope it encourages people to discover something that’s uniquely theirs.

Ghost Wav Is My Life in Musical Form

When people hear Ghost Wav, they’re hearing more than a style of music.

They’re hearing decades of experiences converging into one creative language.

Dance.

Film.

Design.

Architecture.

Psychology.

Production.

Emotion.

Curiosity.

Persistence.

None of those things existed separately inside me.

They always belonged together.

I just needed enough years, enough failures, enough victories, and enough understanding to recognize the language they had been speaking all along.

Ghost Wav wasn’t something I invented by looking at the world.

It was something I discovered by finally listening to myself.

“A foundation should support imagination, not limit it.”
— oO5 Dynasty

 

Question 4

A&R Factory asked:
Before oO5 Dynasty, there was Legacy, Legendary Team and a whole earlier era of work. What did that chapter teach you about discipline, authorship and protecting your own creative language?

Before I Became oO5 Dynasty, I Learned How to Help Someone Else Build a Dream

People often ask me what my years as Legacy and my time with Legendary Team taught me.

Most expect me to talk about the music industry.

The truth is…

The greatest lesson wasn’t about music.

It was about becoming useful.

I Didn’t Start With Talent

When people look at me today, they see someone who produces music, writes songs, builds websites, designs graphics, creates videos, researches music theory, and documents history.

It can look like those skills simply appeared.

They didn’t.

I started with almost nothing.

My twin brother, Tywan Mitchell Pearson—known professionally as Legend of New York—already knew what he wanted.

He wanted to become a recording artist.

He spent countless hours writing lyrics, developing his craft, and chasing his dream.

I looked at that and asked myself a different question.

How can I help?

That single question changed my life.

Every Problem Became an Opportunity to Learn

If Legend needed beats…

I learned how to make beats.

If he needed artwork…

I learned Photoshop.

If he needed a website…

I learned HTML and CSS.

If he needed someone to understand contracts…

I studied business.

If I needed a deeper understanding of the recording industry…

I enrolled at the Institute of Audio Research in New York City.

Every challenge became another skill.

Not because I wanted to collect talents.

Because I wanted to remove obstacles.

Looking back, I realize I wasn’t just helping build Legendary Team.

I was building myself.

Legacy Was Given to Me

One thing many people don’t know is that I didn’t choose the name Legacy.

Legend gave it to me.

Because he was Legend, he looked at me one day and said,

“Your name should be Legacy.”

At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate what that meant.

Years later, I understood something important.

Not every part of your story is chosen by you.

Some opportunities find you.

Some names find you.

Some responsibilities find you.

Life isn’t only about creating your own path.

Sometimes it’s about how you respond to the path that’s placed in front of you.

Consistency Built Everything

People often ask what the secret is.

There wasn’t one.

I simply showed up.

Every day.

I made another beat.

Designed another graphic.

Built another webpage.

Went to another recording session.

Took another photograph.

Learned another lesson.

Most of those early beats were probably terrible.

Most people will never hear them.

But they served their purpose.

Every bad beat taught me something the next beat needed.

Progress wasn’t glamorous.

It was repetitive.

Being Present Was an Education

Even when I wasn’t the featured artist…

I was there.

Even when I wasn’t the lead producer…

I was there.

Even when I wasn’t speaking…

I was listening.

Recording sessions became classrooms.

Conversations became education.

Watching professionals work became part of my training.

Sometimes the greatest lesson isn’t being the person in the spotlight.

Sometimes it’s simply being in the room long enough to understand how greatness is built.

Legendary Team Became My University

People often think education only happens inside schools.

For me, Legendary Team was another kind of university.

Working alongside artists.

Producing records.

Filming.

Designing.

Traveling.

Problem-solving.

Building.

Failing.

Trying again.

Those experiences taught me things no textbook ever could.

By the time people started recognizing my work, they were seeing the result of thousands of invisible hours.

Legacy Built oO5 Dynasty

People sometimes separate my past from my present.

I don’t.

Legacy didn’t disappear.

Legacy evolved.

Without those years…

There would be no Ghost Wav.

There would be no documentaries.

No websites.

No archives.

No production philosophy.

No oO5 Dynasty.

Everything I create today stands on foundations that were built years earlier.

Becoming the Ultimate Human Being

One philosophy has guided me throughout my life.

I never wanted to become the best at one thing.

I wanted to become the best version of myself.

Every new skill became another tool.

Photography.

Music production.

Graphic design.

Filmmaking.

Dance.

Web development.

Business.

Writing.

Research.

None of those disciplines compete with one another.

Together, they make me a more complete creator.

They allow me to contribute wherever I’m needed.

Success Isn’t Just About Yourself

Looking back, I don’t think Legacy was only preparing me for a career.

It was preparing me for a philosophy.

Helping someone else taught me how to help myself.

Building a team taught me how to build a vision.

Learning one skill taught me how to learn anything.

The music industry showed me success.

It also showed me disappointment.

It showed me loyalty.

It showed me betrayal.

It showed me creativity.

It showed me imitation.

Every experience became another layer of understanding.

Today, people know me as oO5 Dynasty.

They see Ghost Wav.

They see the music.

They see the philosophy.

But none of those things appeared overnight.

Before there was oO5 Dynasty…

There was Legacy.

And Legacy taught me that the greatest investment you can ever make isn’t into a trend, a platform, or even a career.

It’s into becoming the kind of person who can keep growing, no matter what life asks of you next.

“If everyone creates identical Ghost Wav… then Ghost Wav has failed.”
— oO5 Dynasty

 

Question 5

A&R Factory asked:
You’ve been releasing archival productions, including songs produced for Legend of NY. What does preservation mean to you in a culture that keeps pushing artists to chase the next trend instead of documenting what already mattered?

I Didn’t Start Documenting My Work Because I Wanted Fame. I Started Because I Learned What It Feels Like to Lose History.

People often ask why I’ve spent so much time archiving my music, documenting my work, and preserving projects that many creators would have left behind years ago.

The answer has very little to do with music.

It has everything to do with history.

Following Is Human Nature

I don’t believe people wake up one morning and consciously decide to become followers.

I think it happens naturally.

From the day we’re born, we’re taught by someone else.

Our parents teach us how to walk.

How to speak.

How to read.

How to understand the world.

Following is one of the first things we ever learn.

As adults, that instinct often continues.

Only now we’re following trends.

Following algorithms.

Following influencers.

Following whatever everyone else is doing.

Most people aren’t trying to lose themselves.

They’re simply repeating what they’ve always been taught.

Then, for some people, something changes.

It’s almost like waking up.

You suddenly step outside the crowd and realize…

“I’ve been following everyone else’s path instead of discovering my own.”

That realization changes everything.

I Never Planned to Build an Archive

People sometimes assume I always intended to preserve everything I created.

I didn’t.

I simply never wanted to throw it away.

Old hard drives.

Music sessions.

Photos.

Videos.

Graphics.

Projects.

They stayed with me because getting rid of them never felt right.

I wasn’t building an archive.

I was simply holding onto pieces of my life.

Years later, I realized those pieces had become history.

Losing My Mother Changed the Way I Value Memory

When I was a child, my mother passed away.

Afterward, much of what we had in our home disappeared.

Photographs.

Personal belongings.

Memories captured in physical form.

Gone.

Some relatives later found and shared a few photographs with us.

Without them, many moments would have existed only in memory.

That experience stayed with me.

I don’t think I understood it at the time.

But looking back now, I believe it quietly shaped the way I treat everything I create.

I learned early that once history disappears…

Sometimes it never comes back.

The Internet Taught Me Another Lesson

Years later I began speaking publicly about creativity, originality, and what I eventually called the Copy and Clone Generation.

As those conversations grew, people naturally asked questions about my own history.

“Where’s your proof?”

“What have you done?”

“Where’s the evidence?”

At first, I wasn’t bothered.

Because I knew what I had lived.

But then I realized something important.

If your work isn’t documented…

To the outside world, it might as well not exist.

That wasn’t a painful realization.

It was an educational one.

I had spent years producing records.

Designing.

Filming.

Building websites.

Creating graphics.

Working behind the scenes.

Helping artists.

But because much of it had never been publicly documented, people couldn’t see it.

Not because it wasn’t real.

Because it wasn’t preserved where others could discover it.

A Digital Museum

That realization completely changed my philosophy.

I no longer wanted to simply create.

I wanted to preserve.

That’s when the idea of building a digital museum emerged.

Not a museum about fame.

A museum about evidence.

A place where music…

Photography…

Design…

Dance…

Film…

Writing…

Ghost Wav…

And every chapter of my creative life could exist together.

Not because I need validation.

Because history deserves preservation.

Trends Eventually Disappear

One reason I never became interested in chasing trends is because trends have expiration dates.

Today’s viral sound becomes tomorrow’s forgotten algorithm.

History works differently.

History compounds.

The more accurately it’s documented…

The more valuable it becomes.

I’d rather spend twenty years building something people can study than twenty days building something people scroll past.

Documentation Is an Act of Respect

Today, I don’t archive my work because I believe every project is perfect.

I archive it because every project represents a moment that can never happen again.

Every song.

Every photograph.

Every interview.

Every website.

Every documentary.

Every experiment.

Together they tell a story that no single project ever could.

That’s why I continue documenting.

Not because I’m chasing trends.

Not because I’m chasing fame.

But because I finally understand something I learned many years ago.

When history is lost…

Part of us disappears with it.

When history is preserved…

Future generations can still hear our voice.

 

Question 6

A&R Factory asked:
The idea of structured digital archives, websites, publications and media platforms feels central to what you’re building. Are you thinking of Ghost Wav as a music genre, a historical record, a creative institution, or all of those at once?

Ghost Wav Isn’t a Rulebook. It’s a Foundation for Human Creativity.

One question I often receive is whether Ghost Wav is becoming more than a musical genre.

People ask about the websites.

The documentation.

The articles.

The archives.

The diagrams.

The philosophy.

Sometimes they assume I’m trying to create a rigid structure around Ghost Wav.

The truth is…

I’m trying to do the opposite.

Every Structure Needs a Foundation

I believe every meaningful creation needs a foundation.

Ghost Wav is no different.

That foundation isn’t a specific instrument.

It isn’t a specific tempo.

It isn’t a specific chord progression.

It isn’t even a specific sound.

The foundation is movement.

Movement through harmony.

Movement through emotion.

Movement through psychology.

Movement through the body of the song.

That’s why I talk about pivot-chord modulation, key changes, emotional transitions, ascending, descending, texture, atmosphere, rhythm, and groove.

Those ideas aren’t rules.

They’re ways of encouraging music to keep evolving instead of standing still.

Everything Beyond That Belongs to the Creator

Once the foundation exists…

The rest belongs to you.

Maybe your Ghost Wav begins with a piano.

Someone else’s begins with a violin.

Another producer starts with field recordings.

Another begins with an acapella voice.

Someone else may begin with artificial intelligence before transforming it into something deeply personal.

None of those approaches automatically make or break Ghost Wav.

Because Ghost Wav doesn’t begin with the tool.

It begins with the person using it.

Documentation Doesn’t Define Ghost Wav

People sometimes look at my websites, articles, and archives and assume they’re part of Ghost Wav itself.

They’re not.

They’re documentation.

They’re simply the tools available in today’s world.

If the internet didn’t exist…

I’d be writing everything in notebooks.

Drawing diagrams by hand.

Publishing books instead of websites.

The medium would change.

The philosophy wouldn’t.

Ghost Wav doesn’t exist because of websites.

The websites exist because Ghost Wav already exists.

Freedom Is Part of the Design

One reason I believe Ghost Wav has so much potential is because it refuses to force everyone toward the same destination.

A producer in Brazil won’t hear Ghost Wav exactly the way I do.

Neither will someone in Japan.

Or Australia.

Or Chile.

Or New York.

And I don’t want them to.

Every person carries different experiences.

Different emotions.

Different cultures.

Different stories.

Why should every Ghost Wav composition sound identical?

It shouldn’t.

Even Ghosts Are Experienced Differently

I’ve always loved the symbolism behind the name Ghost Wav.

Ask ten people what a ghost looks like…

You’ll probably hear ten different answers.

Some imagine a glowing white figure.

Others imagine something transparent.

Some imagine a glitch.

Some don’t see anything at all.

They simply feel a presence.

A cold breeze.

A shift in atmosphere.

Ghost Wav works the same way.

The experience matters more than the appearance.

My Goal Isn’t to Create Followers

One thing has remained consistent throughout my entire creative journey.

I’m not interested in creating followers.

I’m interested in helping people discover themselves.

That’s why I encourage musicians to look inward instead of outward.

Ghost Wav isn’t asking people to imitate me.

It’s asking them to understand themselves deeply enough that something original begins to emerge.

If everyone creates identical Ghost Wav…

Then Ghost Wav has failed.

A Living Culture

People sometimes ask whether Ghost Wav is simply a genre.

I think it’s capable of becoming something much larger.

Not because I control it.

Because I don’t.

A culture grows when people contribute their own experiences.

Their own interpretations.

Their own emotions.

Their own perspectives.

Ghost Wav has room for all of that.

The foundation remains.

Everything else continues evolving.

The Invisible Architecture

When people ask me what Ghost Wav really is…

I don’t think about websites.

I don’t think about articles.

I don’t think about archives.

I think about a feeling.

A vibration.

A piece of music that refuses to remain emotionally still.

Something that moves.

Something that breathes.

Something that changes.

Just enough to make the listener feel like they’re traveling instead of simply listening.

The documentation simply explains the philosophy.

The music is where Ghost Wav truly exists.

And that’s exactly where I believe it should stay.

 

Question 7

A&R Factory asked:
You’re currently using the Roland FA-06 and MPC Live to create original Ghost Wav compositions. What do those tools give you that software alone can’t, especially when you’re trying to build something with its own signature DNA?

Ghost Wav Didn’t Come From Expensive Gear. It Came From Understanding My Tools.

One question I’ve been asked is why I continue creating Ghost Wav with a Roland FA-06 workstation and an MPC Live.

Most people expect me to answer by talking about hardware.

That’s not really the answer.

The answer is understanding.

The Tool Was Never the Destination

For years, I watched people argue about equipment.

Which sampler is better.

Which workstation sounds better.

Which plugins are better.

Which company makes the best keyboard.

Eventually I stopped asking those questions.

Instead, I asked something much simpler.

“What is this tool actually designed to do?”

That single question changed my entire creative process.

Marketing Shows Possibilities

Research Reveals Purpose

Modern music technology is surrounded by incredible marketing.

Beautiful videos.

Finger drumming.

Flashy demonstrations.

Influencers.

Product launches.

Endless feature lists.

There’s nothing wrong with any of that.

But marketing teaches you what a company wants you to see.

Research teaches you what the tool actually is.

I became fascinated with understanding the inner architecture of the instruments I already owned.

How they processed sound.

How they handled sampling.

How they layered instruments.

How reverb actually behaved.

How pre-delay affected emotional space.

How stereo width changed perception.

The more I understood the tools…

The more they disappeared.

My Roland FA-06 Waited Patiently

One of the biggest lessons in my journey came from a keyboard that spent years sitting in the corner of my room.

My Roland FA-06 collected dust.

I even have photographs of it sitting there untouched.

At one point I cleaned it until it looked exactly the way it had the day I opened the box.

Then something changed.

Instead of seeing it as another keyboard…

I began seeing it as an orchestra waiting to be explored.

That’s when Ghost Wav truly accelerated.

Building My Own Musical DNA

I stopped searching for someone else’s sounds.

I began building my own.

My own layered strings.

My own trumpet sections.

My own orchestral textures.

My own studio sets.

Names like…

oO5 Elven Forest

oO5 Trumpets

These weren’t presets.

They became part of my own musical language.

Every sound carried a purpose.

Every layer became another color on my palette.

Eventually I realized something beautiful.

I wasn’t collecting sounds.

I was building a vocabulary.

Then the MPC Found Its True Purpose

Around the same time, I stopped asking the MPC to become something it wasn’t.

Modern technology often encourages us to use every feature simply because it exists.

I chose a different approach.

I allowed the MPC to excel at what made it legendary.

Sampling.

Performance.

Capture.

Workflow.

The workstation remained the workstation.

The sampler remained the sampler.

Instead of forcing both machines to become identical…

I allowed each one to become exceptional at its own job.

That’s when the workflow finally clicked.

Understanding Creates Freedom

Once I understood the foundation…

Everything became possible.

An entire composition could grow from one string section.

Every four or eight bars the harmony could evolve.

Pivot-chord modulation could move the emotion.

A piano could enter.

Then disappear.

A choir could quietly emerge.

An eagle could begin in the left speaker…

Travel across the stereo field…

Fade into the distance…

While layers of carefully controlled reverb pushed it farther toward the horizon.

Those aren’t effects for the sake of effects.

They’re movement.

Every decision serves the journey.

Ghost Wav Lives Beyond the Equipment

People sometimes assume Ghost Wav exists because of specific instruments.

I don’t believe that.

If tomorrow I lost every piece of equipment I own…

Ghost Wav would still exist.

Because Ghost Wav doesn’t live inside the hardware.

It lives inside understanding.

The instruments simply help me express it.

Respect the Tool. Discover Yourself.

If there’s one lesson my creative journey has taught me, it’s this.

Respect your tools enough to understand them.

Respect the people who built them.

Learn why they exist.

Learn what they’re actually good at.

Then…

Forget about the equipment.

Bring yourself into the music.

Because no workstation…

No sampler…

No synthesizer…

No software…

Can create your identity for you.

Only you can do that.

The tools simply help reveal what was already waiting inside.

 

Question 8

A&R Factory asked:
In an era dominated by algorithms, imitation and disposable trends, your work places huge value on originality, independent thinking and intellectual property. What does the long-term Ghost Wav ecosystem look like once the releases, archives, visuals and documentation all start speaking to each other?

Ghost Wav Doesn’t Belong to Me. It Belongs to Everyone Who Builds Upon It.

One of the most fascinating questions I’ve been asked is about the future of Ghost Wav.

People want to know what the long-term ecosystem looks like.

The websites.

The archives.

The music.

The culture.

The community.

The truth is…

I can’t answer that question.

And I don’t think I’m supposed to.

A Creator Doesn’t Own the Future

I know where Ghost Wav began.

I know why I created it.

I understand its foundation.

But I don’t know what Ghost Wav will ultimately become.

Because that part no longer belongs only to me.

Every person who experiences Ghost Wav will see something different.

Every producer will hear different possibilities.

Every songwriter will tell different stories.

Every culture will contribute different emotions.

That’s exactly how it should be.

A Foundation Shouldn’t Become a Cage

Everything in our world is built around structure.

Schools.

Governments.

Jobs.

Laws.

Organizations.

Most systems teach people where they are allowed to go.

Ghost Wav asks a different question.

“Where haven’t you gone yet?”

The foundation exists.

Movement.

Emotion.

Growth.

Psychology.

Originality.

Everything beyond that is exploration.

Ghost Wav Encourages Discovery

I’m not interested in telling another producer which chord progression they must use.

Or which instrument they should begin with.

Or which emotion they should express.

Ghost Wav begins with one simple idea.

Bring yourself into the music.

If your journey leads somewhere unexpected…

Go there.

If your imagination finds a sound no one has heard before…

Follow it.

That’s not breaking Ghost Wav.

That’s fulfilling it.

One Song Can Contain Many Songs

One realization changed the way I compose.

Most songs revolve around one primary musical identity.

Ghost Wav doesn’t have to.

An introduction can become its own world.

A verse can introduce another.

A chorus can completely transform the emotional landscape.

A bridge can reveal something entirely unexpected.

By the end of a single composition…

You haven’t simply repeated one great loop.

You’ve explored multiple musical worlds connected by one emotional journey.

Sometimes I think about it this way.

A truly successful Ghost Wav composition doesn’t contain one song.

It contains many songs living together.

Each section could inspire an entirely different creation.

Each loop could become its own record.

That’s one reason Ghost Wav feels so alive to me.

Every section has its own identity.

The Possibilities Continue Expanding

Because Ghost Wav is built around movement rather than limitation…

Its possibilities continue expanding.

Films.

Television.

Video games.

Commercials.

Background scores.

Orchestral performances.

Hip-hop.

Reggae.

Music that hasn’t even been named yet.

Every new creator adds another possibility.

Every new interpretation expands the language.

That’s how living cultures evolve.

My Goal Was Never Control

Some founders want complete ownership over everything their creation becomes.

I don’t.

If Ghost Wav depends entirely on me forever…

Then I haven’t created something living.

I’ve created something fragile.

I’d much rather see Ghost Wav become something people continue exploring long after my own journey is finished.

Not because they copied me.

Because they discovered themselves.

Ghost Wav Belongs to Everyone

People often call me the founder of Ghost Wav.

That’s true.

History should accurately remember where it began.

But history shouldn’t stop there.

Ghost Wav doesn’t become meaningful because I continue speaking.

It becomes meaningful because other people eventually have something meaningful to say through it.

That’s the future I’m excited about.

Not ownership.

Contribution.

Not imitation.

Discovery.

Not repetition.

Evolution.

Ghost Wav began with one person’s imagination.

Its future belongs to everyone willing to bring their own.

Closing Remarks

Thank you again for creating questions that encouraged reflection rather than promotion. This interview became an opportunity to define Ghost Wav not only as a genre, but as a creative philosophy with a musical foundation. I sincerely appreciate the opportunity to share my story.

Respectfully,

oO5 Dynasty
Jamel Marshall Pearson

Interview: Mitch Freimark on Finding His Country Rock Voice Through Technology

Mitch Freimark sits right at the fault line where traditional country storytelling, Southern rock voltage and AI disruption collide. In this interview, he speaks plainly about using SUNO and his AI vocal character Cade Nichols to finally give decades of unheard songs the voices he had been carrying in his head. Freimark also pushes back against the “AI slop” argument, making a case for lyrics, guitar parts, lived experience and human authorship as the real foundation of his work.

Welcome to A&R Factory, Mitch Freimark, we’re excited to have you here as your new music opens up a huge conversation around AI vocals, real musicianship, and keeping the soul of Southern rock alive. 

You’ve been clear that the songs, lyrics, guitar parts and playing are yours, while AI helped you find the voice each track needed. What made AI feel like the right tool after years of these songs sitting unheard? 

All these years sitting on songs only I believed in and knowing I wouldn’t do any of them justice with my limited vocal range was frustrating and finding the right vocalist to bring them to life was impossible.  Hiring singers, studio musicians, and producers for every song simply isn’t realistic for an independent songwriter.

When I discovered SUNO, I didn’t see it as a shortcut—I saw it as an opportunity. It allowed me to finally hear my songs the way I intended them to be sung.  More importantly, allowed me match each song with the voice bouncing around in my head that fit the emotion and personality of the story I was trying to tell.

I don’t believe I have a “style” in the way I write because every song has its own identity. Some need a gritty rock vocal, some need a modern country voice, and others need something more emotional and vulnerable. AI gave me the ability to experiment and find the voice that best served the song rather than forcing every song into the limitations of the resources I had available, me. LOL

At the end of the day, the songwriting is still the foundation. The lyrics, melodies, guitar work, and overall vision come from me. AI didn’t create those songs—it helped me finally share them with the world in a way that felt complete.

AI became the bridge between ideas that lived on paper and finished recordings people could actually hear. For me, it wasn’t about replacing musicianship—it was about removing barriers that kept my music locked away for years.

There’s a lot of knee-jerk anger around AI vocals, with people writing songs off before listening properly. What do you think those critics miss when they dismiss your music as ‘AI slop’? 

I want to be very clear, I’ve never shied away from the fact I’m using AI. I think a lot of critics hear the words “AI vocals” and stop listening.  They assume the computer wrote the song, felt the emotion, and did all the creative work. In my case, the songwriting is still all me. The stories, lyrics, themes, melodies, and production decisions come from me. AI is simply the voice delivering the performance.  But that doesn’t matter to the hardcore No AI Allowed.

To address the ‘AI slop,’ it’s their opinion, but I’d ask them to judge the song itself.  Do the lyrics connect? Does the melody stay with you? Does the story mean something to someone? Those are the same standards we’ve always used for music.  FYI, I normally run my new songs by my musician friends, my brother Todd and my sons Nick and Mitchell – if they like it, I know it’s a winner.

What critics don’t see is many independent artists now have access to ways of bringing their songs to life that would have been financially impossible a few years ago. I don’t use AI to replace creativity—I use it to amplify it. Nobody calls a photographer less of an artist because they use Photoshop, or a filmmaker less creative because they use CGI. Technology changes, but creativity still matters. AI is just another tool in my arsenal of creativity.

Since all my songs all start with a blank page and AI can’t replace having something meaningful to say.  Example: “Jesus Musta Been Country” honoring hardworking ranch women, or “Middle of Nowhere”(to be released in July)  built around a personal South Dakota road-trip experience.  The emotion in my songs comes from real experiences, real people, and real places. AI didn’t grow up around ranches, drive across South Dakota, or meet the people who inspired those stories. I did. The technology may sing the words, but it didn’t live them.

Your fans clearly connect with the songs, regardless of the voice being AI-generated. Does that reaction feel like validation that the writing itself was always strong enough to reach people?

Absolutely! If there’s one thing this journey has reinforced for me, its people connect with my songs because of how it makes them feel, not because of the technology used to create the music. Listeners don’t know the countless hours spent writing lyrics, reworking melodies, refining guitar parts, and shaping a story until it says exactly what you want it to say. They just know whether a song moves them.

I’ve always believed, Great Songs will find their way to the listeners.  Not all of my work will be considered great, but its close and people enjoy listening to it and for me that’s all that matters.

When someone messages me saying a song reminded them of a person they love, a place they miss, or a chapter of their life, they’re responding to the writing. They’re responding to the story and the emotion behind it. That’s incredibly validating because it tells me those songs had something worth saying all along.

AI never created the fan connection—it simply helped remove the barriers that kept my songs from being heard. The response from listeners has confirmed what I hoped for years: that the strength of a song ultimately comes from the idea, the story, and the emotion behind it. Everything else is just the vehicle that carries it to the audience.

Cade Nichols may be AI, but you describe him as the voice that finally brought the songs to life. How did you know that specific vocal character carried the country feeling you had in your head?

When I started experimenting with AI vocals, I went through countless variations. Some sounded technically good, but they didn’t feel authentic to the stories I was telling. Then I found a vocal style that became Cade Nichols, and something clicked. The voice had the balance I was looking for—modern enough to fit today’s country music, but rooted enough to carry themes of family, hard work, small towns, faith, heartbreak, and resilience.

The best way I can describe it is that I stopped noticing the technology and started hearing the song. That’s when I knew I had found the right voice. Cade wasn’t created to replace the music; he became the vehicle that finally allowed the music to sound the way I’d been hearing it in my head for years.

At the end of the day, listeners don’t connect with Cade because he’s AI. They connect because the voice serves the story. If people believe the emotion, believe the character, and believe the song, then the voice is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.

You learned guitar in a wonderfully non-traditional way, starting with that VFW gig at 15 after Boyce Bender got your mum’s permission. What did that night teach you about playing for real people?

This memory is vivid; and like a movie I can replay it anytime in my mind.  I was scared shitless.  Never having played in front of people.  Boyce owned the crowd and I learned that making mistakes was okay, laugh it off and move on.  You learn how to play when you play live.  I was Boyces lead guitar player for 4 years until my sophomore year of college and I learned “how” to play guitar from that man.

Your sound sits in raw country storytelling and Southern rock energy. What do you still want modern country music to uphold?

I hope modern country music never loses its commitment to honest storytelling. Trends change, production styles evolve, new technology will continue to shape how music is made, but country music has always been at its best when it tells real stories about real people.

The songs that have stayed with me throughout my life weren’t necessarily the biggest hits, they were the ones that made me feel something. Songs about family, hard work, heartbreak, faith, small towns, sacrifice, and resilience. Those themes are timeless because they’re part of the my experience.

Whether it’s a traditional country ballad, a Southern rock anthem, or a song created with modern tools like AI vocals, what matters most to me is that the listener believes it. If the story is honest and the emotion is genuine, then country music is doing what it’s always done best: connecting people through shared experiences.

You’ve spent decades writing songs that no one seemed to want until now. How does it feel to finally hear them standing up, breathing, and finding listeners?

I’ll admit, I shed a tear when “Jesus Musta Been Country” was finished.  It was the hand of God that helped write that song.  The song “Daddy” was written 16 years ago, but the final verse only made sense in 2026 now that both of my sons are young men.  So yes, the feeling of seeing these songs take their first steps is very emotional because each one of them is about real places, real people that shaped me into the person I am today.

In a way, it feels like watching old friends finally get their chance to speak. Some of these songs waited years, even decades, for the right moment and the right voice. They carried stories about people, places, heartbreak, hope, and life experiences that mattered to me. Now they’re finding their way into other people’s lives, and that’s extremely gratifying for me.

What I’ve learned is that a good song doesn’t ever expire. Sometimes it just has to wait for the world to catch up to it—or in my case, me, the songwriter, to finally find a way to let his songs be heard.

As more artists start experimenting with AI, where do you personally draw the line between useful creative technology and something that loses the human heart of the song?

Great question btw.  My humble pie opinion is the moment technology starts replacing the human perspective instead of supporting it, we all lose something important and its easily felt in the so called “Push Button Song” AI can create.  That’s my line in the sand, that’s your AI Slop.

AI can generate words, but it hasn’t fallen in love, lived through a divorce, or watched a parent die from cancer, buried a friend, worked a difficult job, or stood in the “Middle of Nowhere” wondering what comes next. Those are human experiences and what gives songs meaning.

In my own work, I view AI is a tool, not the author.  AI helps me find the voice that can carry those stories, but it didn’t create the reasons those stories needed to be told.

I think listeners can sense the difference.  If technology helps artists express something genuine rather than manufacture something empty, I think it has a place in music.

The next generation of music producers, I hope they learn to write their own songs, to play the instruments, and if blessed, use their own voice.

–

Discover the artist’s discography on Spotify. 

Interview by Amelia Vandergast

Interview: MissHearMeClick Revealed How a Place with No Walls Became a Song-Shaped Home for Belonging, Motherhood and Healing

In this exclusive interview, MissHearMeClick opened the tender emotional world behind A Place with No Walls, a song that began as a simple celebration of friendship before growing into a far deeper reflection on belonging, acceptance and home. She traces how the track evolved across years of personal change, health struggles, healing and motherhood, with her daughter becoming the living centre of what safety, comfort and unconditional love can mean. She speaks with piercing honesty about living far from her roots, searching for a place to feel understood, and finally realising that home can be found in the people who let us exist without fear or judgement.

Welcome to A&R Factory, MissHearMeClick, we’re so happy to have you here as A Place with No Walls opens up a refreshingly tender world of candour and sonic healing. A Place with No Walls began as a song about friendship and belonging, then grew into something much deeper over several years. What first planted the seed for it?

The original inspiration came from a group of friends who found comfort in each other through laughter, conversations, and music.  At the time, the song was intended to be a simple jingle celebrating the group’s anniversary, called “A Place to Feel at Home – Chill Family.” It was inspired by the idea that sometimes the people around us become a safe space where we can truly be ourselves.
As I continued developing the song, I realized that I was also searching for that feeling of belonging in my own life, which eventually led the song in a much deeper and more personal direction.

The idea of “a place with no walls” feels beautifully open, almost like an emotional shelter rather than a physical location. What does that phrase mean to you now?

Today, “A Place with No Walls” means a space where you can be completely yourself without fear of judgement or barriers.  When I first started the song, I thought of it as a place where friends could gather and feel at home.  There were also times when I imagined it as a physical place where I could truly feel at home, especially since I have been living far from my roots.  But over time, the meaning became much deeper for me.

I came to realize that home isn’t always a physical place.  Sometimes it’s a feeling of acceptance, love, and connection.  It’s the people who make you feel safe enough to be yourself.  In many ways, “A Place with No Walls” became my way of describing a space where every story, every difference, and every person belongs.

You’ve said the song evolved alongside your own personal experiences, struggles, healing and growth. Was there a moment when you realised the song had changed meaning?

Yes, I think the turning point happened when I became a mother.  Before that, the song reflected my search for belonging and a place where I could truly feel at home.  Even though the song started from a positive idea about friendship and connection, there was still a sense of longing behind it because I was searching for something I couldn’t quite define.

When my daughter came into my life, the meaning of the song gradually changed.  I began to understand that home isn’t always a place we find.  Sometimes it’s a feeling we discover through the people we love.  The song stopped being about searching and started becoming about finding.  That’s when I realized it had become something much deeper than what I originally intended.

Becoming a mother seems to have reshaped the emotional weight of the track. How did motherhood change the way you think about comfort, safety and home?

Motherhood changed my understanding of comfort, safety, and home in ways I never expected.  Before, I often thought of home as a place or something I was still searching for, especially since I’ve spent much of my life living far from my roots.

Becoming a mother made me realize that home can be feeling created by unconditional love, connection, and acceptance.  My daughter has a way of making me feel safe and loved in the most genuine and innocent way. During difficult periods in my life, especially while facing health challenges, she became a source of strength, hope, and comfort.

Through her, I learned that comfort isn’t always about where you are.  It’s about who makes you feel seen, loved, and accepted.  That’s when I truly understood that home isn’t necessarily a place.  Sometimes, it’s a person.  In my case, I was fortunate enough to find that feeling of home through my daughter.

The song carries such a warm sense of acceptance. Were you writing towards someone specific, or towards the feeling of finally being understood?

It was more about the feeling of finally being understood.  While certain people influenced the song at different stages of its journey, I wasn’t writing to one specific person.  I was writing toward a feeling that I think many people search for, the feeling of being accepted, valued, and loved for who they truly are.

Of course, my daughter became a very important part of that realization, but the song is really about creating a space where people can feel they belong.  Like many people, I’ve experienced moments of doubt and emotional struggles.  There were times when I questioned my own feelings and wondered if it was all just in my head, which was difficult because I’ve always tried to be a strong and positive person.

What changed was the way my daughter loved and accepted me so naturally.  Through her, I felt a kind of acceptance that didn’t require explanations or conditions.  That experience helped me understand what “A Place with No Walls” truly means.

If listeners hear the song and feel seen, understood, or welcomed, then I think it has achieved its purpose.

When a song takes years to become what it needs to be, how do you know when it is finally ready to be released?

For me, it wasn’t about reaching perfection.  It was more about reaching a point where the message felt complete and honest.

Because this song grew alongside my own life experiences, there were times when I wan’t ready to finish it because I was still living through the questions it was asking.  As the years passed, the meaning became clearer to me, and so did the story I wanted to tell.

I knew it was ready when I finally felt at peace with what the song was saying.  The person who started writing it was still searching for a place to belong.  The person who finished it had found a deeper understanding of what home truly means.  Once I was able to express that journey through the song with a sense of hope, gratitude, and positivity, I new the emotional journey was complete and it was time to share it with others.

A Place with No Walls feels built around emotional generosity. What do you hope listeners feel when they hear it for the first time?

I hope listeners feel comfort, connection, and hope when they hear the song for the first time.  More than anything, I hope they feel that they are not alone in whatever they may be going through.

I believe these are feelings many people can relate to.

If someone listens to the song and feels seen, understood, or reminded that they belong somewhere, then I think the song has done what it was meant to do.  To me, “A Place with No Walls” is an invitation to be a little kinder, more open, and more understanding toward ourselves and others.

Looking back at the earliest version of the song and where it has ended up now, what does A Place with No Walls reveal about who MissHearMeClick has become?

Looking back, I think “A Place with No Walls” reveals that I have learned to embrace vulnerability, authenticity, and the beauty of human connection.

When I first started writing the song, I was still searching for where I belonged.  There were questions I hadn’t answered yet, emotions I was still trying to suppress or understand, and experiences I had not fully processed or made peace with.  Over time through life’s challenges, healing, and becoming a mother, I gained a deeper appreciation for what it means to feel accepted, loved, and truly at home.

The song’s journey mirrors my own journey.  What started as a song about finding a place to belong became a reflection of discovering that home can be found in connection, love, and acceptance.

I think it reveals that MissHearMeClick has become an artist who is no longer afraid to be honest about life’s struggles, but also someone who chooses to find hope, gratitude, and meaning within them.  More than anything, it reflects my desire to create music that reminds people they are not alone and that there is always a place where they belong.

–

Stream MissHearMeClick on SoundCloud.

Interview by Amelia Vandergast

Kace Interview: A View into the Mind of a Man Turning Hardstyle into Exposure Therapy for Anyone Afraid to Be ‘Cringe’

Kace is only two releases into his career, yet with DJ OFF, he’s already dropped a manifesto for anyone tired of being hyper-aware of how they are perceived. Built from heavy bass, hard techno, hardstyle, ridiculous lyrics, and a refusal to stay polished for the sake of respectability, the track became a kind of exposure therapy against cringe culture. In this interview, Kace opens up about growing up around judgement, finding self-expression through loud music, using production to unlock confidence, and wanting ravers to dance like phones have ceased to exist. he’s also reflects on Gen Z perfectionism, AI-era imperfection, nihilism, sexuality, desire, Hollywood party fantasies, and why being real matters more than being flawless

DJ OFF is the kind of track that allows everyone to collectively forget about real life for a few minutes. What sparked the idea behind the track, and when did you realise it needed to be silly, heavy, and completely unashamed?

DJ OFF was made for letting loose. What sparked the idea was my fear of being perceived by others. That fear made me hold back from releasing a lot of music, so putting out an unapologetic song early on helps me not overthink my work. I also feel like my generation, Gen Z and even Gen Alpha, are too serious. We label something cringe if it doesn’t fit a box or a narrative. I am guilty of that too.

How did it feel to lose all sense of pretence and embrace chaos with the lyrics in DJ OFF? 

It felt really freeing and fun. Writing outlandish lyrics over a heavy beat is healing in a way. I used to feel caged in, worried about being seen as cringe, but DJ OFF became a kind of exposure therapy for me. Letting go of pretence was exactly what I had been missing.

Was that freedom something you had been missing in your music before this release?

Definitely, even though I grew up listening to Kesha, Sophie, and Kim Petras, I still struggled to pioneer a sound or to be able to express myself freely like the artists I mentioned. Expressing yourself can be done through more serious and slow ballads, of course, but I’ve always gravitated towards upbeat music.

At only 20 years old, and still at the stage of releasing a sophomore release, you’ve got your whole creative career ahead of you. What feels most exciting about being at this raw, early stage where nothing has to be too polished or over-explained yet?

Even though being this early in a creative career isn’t easy, it is always rewarding. The most exciting thing is definitely gaining an audience slowly but surely, growing a community, and finding like-minded people.

Before producing, you said you struggled to express yourself. What was it about heavy bass, hard techno, and hardstyle that finally gave you a way to say what words could not?

I find heavy bass music very unapologetic. I grew up in a very closed-off environment where music like this was frowned upon and demonised. Getting to a point in my life where I can express myself without feeling othered is very freeing. The music says what I never could.

Loud music can make people feel powerful, feral, euphoric, or completely untouchable. What does that kind of sound unlock in you when you are creating it and when you’re the one in the crowd/wearing the headphones? 

I often find myself living vicariously through loud music. On those low days when I feel self-conscious, I open my project file before I even know what I want to say. Making music brings up my mood and my confidence. I feel like I have unlocked a higher version of myself.

When you imagine people hearing DJ OFF in a crowd, what kind of moment do you want them to have?

I want people listening to DJ OFF to dance like phones do not exist. I want their energy to be just as ridiculous and outlandish as the beat and the lyrics.

A lot of young artists feel pressure to sound serious or fully formed straight away. How important is it for you to keep that playful, chaotic, still-figuring-it-out energy alive in your music?

It is extremely important. I am guilty of fearing how I am perceived or criticised, and that is something artists deal with throughout their careers, especially at the start when we do not know if our music will even be tolerated. Releasing experimental, playful music is my middle finger to that feeling.

Why do you think there’s so much pressure for artists (and everyone else) to maintain the illusion that they’ve got everything figured out?

I think social media made us believe everyone else is living a perfectly planned life. At the end of the day, it’s only human nature to want to put the best version of yourself out there.

But I feel like there is definitely a shift culturally towards less curated, more raw sounds and imagery with the rise of AI , when “perfection” is accessible, imperfections starts getting valued

What do you think DJ OFF says about who Kace is right now, and what do you hope it opens up for your next releases?

Not to come off as too deep, but DJ OFF represents my nihilism and my desire to be myself because life is too short. It says that I would rather be real than perfect. I hope DJ OFF opens the door for me to take bigger creative swings without second-guessing.

I have a ton more fun dance pop songs coming up that explore different themes of sexuality, desire, and fantasizing about partying in Hollywood.

–

Connect with Kace on all major platforms via this link.

Interview by Amelia Vandergast

The Adel Gomez Band – As Soon As Tomorrow: Soul-Sugarcoating 70s Pop Rock

The Adel Gomez Band

Woozy with nostalgia, rock-fuelled pop reached its pinnacle with the latest release by The Adel Gomez Band, ‘As Soon as Tomorrow’. Hit play on the swoon-worthy single, and you’ll instantly feel as though your whole world has been sugar-coated.

In spite of the shimmering, glossy, full-bodied production which wraps around the traditional foundation of real instrumentals, As Soon As Tomorrow resonates like the kind of single that high school students would have fallen in love to in the 70s, paying tribute to how The Adel Gomez Band can bring back the swing and soul of 70s pop while steering clear of pastiche through their passion for retro aural aesthetics.

As for the vocals, it’s a timbre all boy bands would kill for; there’s an instantly lovable, cheeky purity to the delivery as it goes through the motions of diehard romanticism. Hints of Badfinger, The Raspberries, and Bay City Rollers flicker through the guitar-driven glow, yet the band hold tight to their own sweet-hearted charisma and their distinct way of playing with the anatomy of sincerity.

Could You Lie is now available to stream on all major platforms, via this link.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

Anyone Else Interview: How Omaha Pop-Rock Sparked Back to Life with ‘This Could Be Dangerous’

Anyone Else is wired with the kind of renewed pop-rock electricity that comes from a band finally operating at full force again. After two years as a six-piece shaped by stop-start momentum around singer Meghan’s Air Force duties, the Omaha outfit now sounds fired up, focused, and ready to widen their reach. In this interview, they talk about the reignited energy within the group, their six-track EP This Could Be Dangerous, the tension and chemistry of six different musical tastes, and how producer Sean Tillman helped their songs hit with fresh force. They also touch on Omaha’s local scene, shaping space around Meghan’s voice, summer shows, label hopes, and the stubborn joy of making art they genuinely believe in.

You have been a six-piece unit for two years now, but the stop-start pattern caused by your singer’s Air Force duties clearly shaped that early phase. Now that she is finally back from her long posting, how different does the creative energy feel within the group?

Having the break actually seemed to bring us an unexpected new energy. When Meghan came back, the fire was reignited and burns even harder now. We’re writing new music, setting clear goals, and of course capitalizing on new opportunities for shows like the upcoming Goodlife Fest and Nebraska State Fair in August this year!

You have three singles already out in the world, and listeners can see the uptick in interest on Spotify. With the next three tracks already locked in, what part of your sound or story do you feel these upcoming releases reveal that the first three only hinted at?

The next three on the EP is gonna show how diverse our sound is. Every member of the band has their own taste of music, heavy and soft – none of us really listen to the exact same genres. Which definitely makes for tenstion in the writing and recording process! But, our music really blends a diverse sound that appeals to all of us when it’s all said and done. I think that will become apparent when ‘This Could be Dangerous’ (the six song EP) drops in a few weeks. We have CDs available on June 18th and will be everywhere for streaming on August 2nd btw!

As a six-piece pop-rock band from Omaha, you bring your own flavour to the local scene. How has the hometown environment influenced your songwriting as you build towards bigger visibility?

The local scene in Omaha has some incredible talent, and we absolutely draw inspiration from the scene. Watching what works and maybe what doesn’t as well. We recorded our EP with one of the best (Sean from Aleyeska) and there’s no question his style bled into the tracks. His inspiration and the talent in Omaha forces us to be better for sure!

You mentioned that your singer’s live voice tends to stop people in their tracks. When you are arranging new material, how much of the writing process revolves around shaping space for her to do what she does best?

Meghan came into the band with the bulk of material already written, but she of course reshaped some of the lyrics to fit her – both in terms of her abilities and also in terms of making the songs true to her own life experience. The one track from the upcoming EP that is an example of writing with her vocals in mind is ‘Bangarang’ I think it stands out on the EP for that reason. Honestly, there is almost a feeling of relief now that we’ve made it through this ‘initial’ material phase, because we can’t wait to get out the new new material that we have writen with her that really showcases her talent.

You are working closely with producer Sean Tillman in Iowa. What was the first moment in the studio where you felt the songs lift and take on the atmosphere you had been trying to pin down?

Like I said earlier, Sean’s style bleeds into the recordings and has helped us grow substantially. I sent demos to Sean in advance before going to the studio but from the second we walked in the door he had drum tones already developed for us that immediately gave a new energy to the material we had, so it was literally instantaneous.

As a band actively seeking label support, what qualities would the right label need to have to understand your ethos and back the scale of what you are planning?

The music industry is constantly evolving. There is an unbelievable amount of musical talent out there. The labels of the past really seemed to act as a buffer, that helped bring great stuff to the masses. Social media has significantly impacted that role. A label can most certainly help bridge gaps and make connections to larger groups of people, but it’s hard to say what the future holds in terms of finding a label. Right now we are focused on making art that we love and sharing it with whoever wants to hear it. Hopefully there are a lot of people left to reach that don’t know they want to hear it yet! We’re excited to get it to them however possible, and enjoying the ride as it comes!

–

Stream Anyone Else on Spotify.

Follow the artist on Instagram and Facebook.

Interview by Amelia Vandergast

Alexander Yearns Interview: How ‘Keep the Faith’ Becomes a Lantern for Isolation, Longing and Becoming

In an exclusive interview with A&R Factory, Alexander Yearns spoke from the fragile threshold between isolation and expansion, where songs become small acts of survival, longing, and self-recognition. In this interview, he reflects on writing from solitude, the emotional temperature of long-distance love, and the pull towards a life that feels more electric, open, and creatively alive. He also explores the intimacy of solo performance, the way older songs change shape as the artist changes, and why stripped-back storytelling can reveal the deepest nerve of a lyric.

Your Brooklyn Music Kitchen headline show feels like a major marker in your evolution as a live artist. What makes this performance feel especially pivotal for you?

This performance feels pivotal because it’s probably the clearest reflection yet of who I am as an artist right now. For a long time, I was still figuring out how to merge all the different parts of myself — the songwriter, the live performer, the storyteller, and the person behind all of it. This show feels like a moment where those worlds are finally meeting in a very honest way.

Headlining a room like Brooklyn Music Kitchen also carries emotional weight for me because Brooklyn has been such an important place in my creative life, as all of my studio albums were recorded there. There’s a certain intimacy to this performance that makes it feel different from past shows. I’m leaning more into vulnerability, simplicity, and connection rather than trying to make everything bigger or louder.

I’m also introducing unreleased material that represents where I’m heading creatively, while revisiting older songs through a completely different lens. In that sense, the night really feels like a bridge between past and future — a snapshot of transition, growth, and becoming more comfortable in my own voice as both a songwriter and performer.

You’ll be sharing unreleased material during the set, which always carries a certain electricity in the room. What elements of your personal world have bled into these new songs?

A lot of these new songs were born out of isolation. I’ve been living alone and pretty isolated for almost two years now, and I think you can hear that in the intimacy and softness of the writing. These aren’t songs that came from chaos or crowded rooms — they feel very quiet and close to the chest. You can almost tell they were written sitting alone on my couch late at night. There’s a stillness to them that reflects the environment I’ve been living in emotionally and physically.

At the same time, there’s also this strong desire running through the music to break free from that isolation — to create a life that feels bigger, more electric, more alive. A lot of the songs sit in that tension between comfort and restlessness. I think I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting over the last couple years, and now there’s this growing pull toward movement, connection, and transformation.

Another major part of the subject matter is love, especially through the lens of a long-distance relationship. It introduced a kind of yearning and longing that I honestly hadn’t experienced before. When someone you care about deeply exists out of reach, it changes the emotional temperature of everything. That feeling has absolutely bled into the music. A lot of these songs are reaching for closeness — emotionally, physically, spiritually — and trying to make sense of distance at the same time.

This performance leans into a more intimate, stripped-back format. What does that solo setting allow you to reveal in the music that a fuller arrangement might leave buried?

I think the strength and emotional impact of my music has always lived most deeply in the lyrics and the voice, and a solo setting naturally brings those elements to the surface. When it’s just me and a guitar, there’s nothing competing with the emotional core of the song. Every lyric lands differently. Every small change in vocal delivery matters more. The intimacy becomes unavoidable in the best way.

I’ve been exploring the possibility of playing full band shows again, and I still love the energy and scale that comes with that, but honestly, I’ve never felt closer to my solo set than I do right now. Lately, at home, I’ve been trying to play two or three full sets a day just to deepen my relationship with the format and really live inside the songs. It’s become a kind of ritual for me.

It also brings me back to how I started as an artist. Before anything else, it was always just me alone with a guitar, trying to communicate something real to a room. That still feels like the truest version of myself on stage. There’s a feeling of complete control over the moment in a solo performance that I don’t experience the same way with a full band. The pacing, the dynamics, the silence, the emotion. It all becomes incredibly personal and instinctive. I think audiences can feel that immediacy when it’s happening in real time.

You’re also reimagining selections from your existing catalogue for the night. How has your relationship with those older songs changed as you’ve grown as a songwriter and performer?

My relationship with those older songs is always changing. I feel lucky to have a large enough catalog now where I can follow my instincts with what feels emotionally true to me in the moment. Sometimes there are songs I leave out of a set completely because I just don’t feel like that version of myself anymore, or I’m not connecting with the song for whatever reason. Then months later, I’ll return to it and suddenly hear something new in it again.

A lot of the songs kind of come and go from my sets naturally. Some disappear for a while and then find their way back when my life catches up to them emotionally. It really depends on where I am mentally and creatively at that time. I think that’s one of the beautiful things about songwriting — songs evolve alongside you. The meaning changes as you change.

As a performer, I’ve also become less interested in recreating songs exactly as they were originally recorded. I want them to feel alive. Reimagining them for this show has allowed me to strip them down and reconnect with why I wrote them in the first place. Sometimes removing all the layers reveals an emotion or lyric that had been hiding underneath the arrangement the whole time.

Storytelling seems central to this show, both musically and emotionally. What kind of emotional thread do you want the audience to feel running through the set?

I think the emotional thread is ultimately open for each individual experiencing the show to decide for themselves. Of course, as the person creating the setlist and performing the songs, I have my own hopes for what people might feel or discover throughout the night. There are certain emotional currents intentionally woven into the performance — longing, reflection, intimacy, hope, restlessness — but I never want to force a singular interpretation onto the audience.

What I care about most is what the listener brings to the music and what they walk away with afterward. Sometimes a song reveals something completely different to someone than what it meant to me when I wrote it, and I actually love that. I think that’s where music becomes truly alive — when it stops belonging entirely to the artist and starts becoming personal to the person hearing it.

So more than trying to dictate an emotional conclusion, I want to create space for people to discover something within the setlist, or maybe even within themselves. Whatever follows them home after the performance — whether it’s a memory, a feeling, a realization, or simply a moment of connection — matters more to me than my own expectations for how the music should be understood.

How has playing live changed the sound, identity, and emotional weight of your music over time?

Playing live has changed the emotional weight and delivery of my music more than the actual structure of the songs themselves. For the most part, the songs remain intact at their core, but the way they’re presented is always evolving. I think performing regularly teaches you that songs are living things — they shift depending on who you are at that moment and what kind of energy exists in the room.

What I really love is exploring new ways of playing, producing, and presenting the material. Sometimes a song becomes quieter and more intimate over time, while other songs grow heavier or more dynamic emotionally. A lyric can suddenly land differently years later simply because I’m delivering it from a completely different place in my life.

You’ve described this performance as a bridge between where you’ve been and where you’re heading next. What parts of your past are you carrying forward, and what feels ready to transform?

Honestly, at this point in my life, almost everything feels ready to transform — both personally and creatively. I think I’m in a season where I can feel old versions of myself slowly falling away, and there’s both excitement and uncertainty that comes with that. A lot of the themes in this performance exist inside that tension between holding on and letting go.

What I’m carrying forward is the emotional honesty and storytelling that have always been at the center of my music. No matter how much the sound evolves or how my life changes, I never want to lose that human element — the desire to communicate something real and vulnerable through a song. That instinct has been with me from the very beginning.

But beyond that, I feel very open to transformation right now. The way I live, the environments I’m drawn to, the kind of art I want to make, the risks I’m willing to take creatively — all of it feels like it’s shifting. There’s a growing desire in me to step outside of isolation and familiarity and move toward a life that feels more expansive, unpredictable, and creatively alive.

I think this performance captures someone standing right in the middle of that transition. It’s not a final statement or a conclusion — it’s more like a snapshot of becoming.

For anyone grabbing tickets, what do you hope stays with them after the set? 

More than anything, I hope people leave with a sense of faith — in themselves, in life, in love, in whatever it is that keeps them moving forward. Spoiler alert, but the final line of every set I play is, “keep the faith,” and I think that phrase has become the emotional thesis of these performances for me.

Not necessarily faith in a religious sense, but faith in the idea that beauty, connection, transformation, and meaning are still possible even during uncertain or lonely periods of life. A lot of these songs wrestle with longing, isolation, change, and hope, so ending the night with those words feels important. It’s like a quiet reminder to both myself and the audience.

If people walk away carrying anything from the set, I hope it’s that feeling — the willingness to continue believing in something larger than the difficult moment you might currently be inside of.

Discover Alexander Yearns’ discography on Spotify.

Connect with the artist on Instagram.

Interview by Amelia Vandergast