[Those were] some of my first experiences singing for a crowd. A lot of musicians and singers, or people in entertainment, can say that that [was] their first opportunity to be vulnerable in that way. It’s better with people you've grown up with, or [who have] seen you grown up. It’s the safest place.

I learned a lot of stage presence from gospel singers. The overall energy of church music is very theatrical and dramatic. I pull a lot of inspiration from that for my live show as well.

Chicago is one of those rare places in the world that has a spark. When people say that there's something in the water in Chicago, I feel them. Because creatively, it has served as a backdrop for some of the best artists in the world, you know, whether it's music, designers, food—it really inspires me in all of those ways. Coming up at a time where there was almost a renaissance happening between my peers—Jean Deaux, Saba, Noname—and having that sense of community was very special for me. Honestly, I haven't found a scene [like that] anywhere else in the state.

My most recent memory is when I moved to Hyde Park, maybe a year or two before I moved to LA. This was my first time moving out of my mom's house and having my own apartment. Expressing that independence and being able to have a place in my own city was very special for me. Two weeks ago, I [came back and] opened up for Erykah Badu, and I was riding to Hyde Park. Whenever I come back, I have this fresh lens of the city and really see it for what it is. The whole time I was saying I was like, “Oh my god, it's so beautiful.” When you're living somewhere, you can become so caught up in all the other things and forget how special and lush and green and clean it really is.

I grew up on Chicago house [and] it’s had a huge effect on the way I approach music. When I hear certain songs, it transports me back to being a little girl at family functions, and everybody stepping. I can smell the food. It really puts me in that place. I’ve tried to incorporate those four-on-the-floor themes in my own music. I've had the pleasure to work with one of the pioneers of that music right now, Kaytranada. Whenever I do revisit that sound, I think of it as homage to my city and the sonics that were around me growing up. If you’re Black in Chicago, you know how to step. You've grown up around it, it's a part of our social gatherings as Black people in Chicago.

Full transparency, it does make me sad that we feel the need to move. I wish that things [were] more accessible in Chicago. Over the past maybe five years, a lot of creatives, whether it's makeup [artists], photographers, videographers—anything in that space—decided to move to New York or LA. At a certain point, I found myself being the only person there. Whenever I would need photos taken or something quick, it became very difficult. I would have to fly people out from LA. My musician homies moved to LA, so I didn't really have that community anymore. Creatively, I felt very uninspired. Because I wasn't around those juices that made me flow in the first place, you know? It started out as me going back and forth from Chicago to LA, pre- pandemic, because a lot of the producers that I was interested in working with lived up there. Then, Monte moved out there. At that point, I felt like I could keep doing this back and forth thing, or I could take the leap and move and see what it's like to be around more artists. Being around more artists is what I needed, especially being locked down and not being accessible to anybody. Being here now is refreshing and inspiring.

I was 15 when I was introduced to Classick and Classick Studios. I remember looking for a studio to record a song that I had written. I did a program that a lot of creative kids do during the summer downtown called After School Matters. This was my first experience being able to make money doing music. I was involved in the choir and we would get a $100 stipend at the end of each month. With that, I paid for my first studio session. I remember feeling very welcomed initially. I hadn't even known that this was the studio that Chance [the Rapper] had gone through, Vic [Mensa], a lot of pioneers in Chicago. This was their stomping grounds. After my first session, Chris Classick heard the song that I did and told me I didn't have to pay for any more sessions after that. I met Monte and Smino that day. They showed me all the stuff they were working on. This was really my first introduction to being in the industry and meeting other creatives who thought and approached music like me. They really took me under their arms as their little sister, guided me, and helped me figure out who I wanted to be, and how I wanted to sonically put that out into the world.

I'm very, very, very particular about the producers and artists I work with. I view music-making as a very intimate thing. If we're making music, I probably have had lunch or dinner [with you] or met your family. To be able to exchange energy in that way—I think it shows in the music when there is that history or background or friendship. I really ask myself, “What are my intentions in working with this person?” And if this is somebody that I would talk to outside of music. When I got to LA, there was a lot of sessioning and doing the LA thing—meeting new people and hopping in and out of production sessions, writing sessions. I quickly realized that's not where I shine. I take the slower route with people. It takes me a while to warm up and find that spark with producers and artists.

We met through the internet. I remember taking a nap and waking up from my phone buzzing off the hook. He had tweeted out my project Midnight Moonlight. Then he sent me a DM on Twitter saying how big of a fan he was and that he would love to work. I ended up flying to LA soon after that for an Apple interview, but ended up meeting Steve and really connected. It’s rare when you have that instant spark with a producer. We think about art and how we portray ourselves to the world very similarly. Being the same age helped a lot too. From then until now, we've been able to watch each other grow. Watching him bloom as a songwriter and musician, and as a person, with his sexuality, just seeing the full version of himself come out has been an inspiration for me in a lot of ways.

It varies, depending on the producer I'm working with and if there's another artist on the song. For instance, with Steve our songs are very chord-based. He may pick up the guitar and play through a bunch of chords. I don't think people realize how involved I am in the production process. I'm very particular about the chord choices—down to the snare, I’m in the decision-making process. So, with Steve we may find a couple chord progressions that feel good. From there, I try to figure out what these chords make me feel, where they take me, what’s the story? I find a melody and Steve may do some passes on the melodies too, and then we go through which melodies are strongest for the verse, chorus, prehook, bridge. From there, I start to figure out what the story is, what words strike me, or what syllables, vowel sounds, and consonants sound [and] feel good. That's usually my process. With someone like Monte, who is very percussion and drum-based, a lot of the feel comes when he puts his drum pattern down. The end result may be completely different from what I was initially thinking because his process in finding the right groove is so thorough and detailed. We may spend an hour trying to find the first snare sound. He's that particular about it. I know I can't really start writing with him until I hear the drums.

When I first heard the chorus of that song, it really transported me to a place of wonder and longing...as African Americans channeling and imagining where we come from, what our names were, who our ancestors were, what mark they left on this world, and how that can translate into me, how I view the world, and how I will then leave my mark. That one was a really special one for me, because it was a song that was needed for us Black people. I come back to it a lot. Whenever I'm feeling lost or need some answers or confused. Having Mereba on it was amazing, too. Her father is Ethiopian, so she knows half of her ancestry, so I thought it was cool to have that perspective on the song as well.

Yes. On my mom's side.

She has such a fun, bright, funky energy. I enjoyed the process of making that song because she has a very blunt way of approaching lyricism. I learned a lot from her. Being more secretive in my language is my safe place, and throughout this album, I felt like I had to push myself beyond those realms to unveil myself in this new way that people can really connect to. My comfort place is finding a prettier way to say things, or less literal way to say things, but sometimes the best songs are that.