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In 2019, pop music is ruled by Gen Z's countercultural disrupters like Billie Eilish and Khalid. While traversing pop, R&B, hip hop, electronica and indie, they're heralded as 'post-genre'. Eilish and Khalid are streaming platform phenomena. Both artists – who, coincidentally, duetted on the fragile ballad Lovely for Netflix's 13 Reasons Why – express their individuality musically and aesthetically. They're about mood, fluctuating between angst, melancholy and exuberance. Above all, the pair trade on the charm of their authenticity and relatability. They're reinventing the pop idol.
Today major labels subscribe to laissez-faire economics, often outsourcing marketing to social media's fanbots, who generate the trending memes and hashtags. But the campaigns behind Eilish's chart-topping debut, When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? and Khalid's second, Free Spirit, have been more conventionally orchestrated – even if the pressers still emphasise streaming stats over narrative. Both projects were announced ahead, rather than stealthed. Some reviewers were afforded advance promos, albeit with strict embargoes. And Eilish has granted insightful interviews. Yet the two acts have cultivated devoted fandoms, whether online or in real life. They've each performed solidly and consistently shared music.
The Californian singer-songwriter Eilish, 17, may be a Britney Spears for the cloud rap epoch. Since the '90s, white pop figures have absorbed – or cynically co-opted – elements of R&B and hip hop. Outgrowing teen fare, Spears hired The Neptunes for 2001's groovy single I'm A Slave 4 U (and, in 2016, G-Eazy rapped on Glory's avant 'n 'B Make Me…). P!nk introduced herself on LaFace Records with 2000's She'kspere-produced R&B banger There You Go.
But Eilish has fostered greater cross-exchange in pop, hip hop and R&B. Early on, the star cited Odd Future's Tyler, The Creator as a primary inspiration (then, live, she's mashed up Drake's Hotline Bling with her own Party Favor, playing ukelele). Chicago's Juice WRLD sampled Lovely twice on his LP Goodbye & Good Riddance. Eilish told The New York Times, "Everyone needs to give hip hop credit – everyone in the world right now. Whatever you're doing, you've been influenced by hip hop." Still, from the outset, Eilish has put a unique spin on emo – and goth.
Billie Eilish Pirate Baird O'Connell was raised in the Los Angeles melting pot of Highland Park by actor parents. Indeed, her mom Maggie Baird has appeared in TV shows like The X-Files and the original Charmed, as dad Patrick O'Connell scored minor roles in Iron Man and Supergirl. Eilish and her older brother, Finneas O'Connell, were homeschooled, their creative interests stimulated. Eilish sang in a kids choir – and proclaimed herself a Belieber. Finneas, a multi-instrumentalist, formed a band, The Slightlys. He acted, too, portraying Alistair in Glee.
On a whim, Finneas asked Eilish, 13, to contribute vocals to an electro-pop track. They uploaded the finished Ocean Eyes to SoundCloud – and it went viral. Eventually, Eilish signed to Interscope. But she'd assert her autonomy, working exclusively with Finneas in their family home (and bedrooms). He accompanies her on tour.
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Eilish soon connected directly to the urban scene. The alt-R&B blackbear featured on an Ocean Eyes remix. In 2017, Eilish dropped an EP, Don't Smile At Me. She solicited the cred MC Vince Staples for &burn and Watch. (Staples himself is about fluidity, reasonably suggesting that his experimental album Big Fish Theory should have been nominated for Best Dance/Electronic Album at the Grammys.)
Eilish was the favourite to top the BBC Music Sound Of 2018 poll. However, the Norwegian electro-popster Sigrid won and, bizarrely, Eilish didn't make the shortlist. Regardless, 2018 was Eilish's year as she aired back-to-back hits like the grunge drama You Should See Me In A Crown and the spacily choral When The Party's Over – songs that, together with Lovely, were represented in triple j's Hottest 100 (When The Party's Over was at #8). In the meantime, Denzel Curry had Eilish cameo on his political missive Sirens | Z1renz, alongside JID, for Ta13oo (Taboo).
Now Eilish has delivered an innovative marvel in When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?. Its central motif is phantasmagoria – as manifested in the single Bury A Friend, which the vocalist imaginatively penned from the perspective of a monster under her bed. Many have compared When We All Fall Asleep... to Lorde. More so, Eilish reveals Lana Del Rey's instinct for subversive sublimation and SZA's artful wit. Plus she has a similar sensibility to Cali's Lil Xan, who, on breaking out with Betrayed, was hailed as a poster boi for the sad rap explosion.
Most startling on When We All Fall Asleep... are Eilish's hushed vocals – which, contrasting her brother's trappy and textural beats, create a sense of closeness. Eilish does have comic flair. The album is prefaced with !!!!!!!, Eilish noisily removing her Invisalign (elsewhere, she samples dialogue from the US sitcom The Office). Eilish's current single, the lyrically inverted Bad Guy, is surprisingly 'dancey' for her – with a Skrillex drop.
In Xanny, Eilish sombrely questions the widespread recreational misuse of Xanax. Two years ago, Lil Peep succumbed to an accidental overdose of fentanyl and Xanax. But Xanny is less a cautionary than self-care tale. The song, which fleetingly pretends to be a piano-ey Beatles classic, is distinguished by its distorted bass (and a cappella). The acoustic guitar-grazed Wish You Were Gay finds Eilish grappling with the rejection of a boy she's crushing on. "To spare my pride/To give your lack of interest an explanation/Don't say I'm not your type/Just say that I'm not your preferred sexual orientation." (The singer was initially accused of queerbaiting.) More oblique is the jaunty All The Good Girls Go To Hell – ostensibly an allegory for climate change.
When We All Fall Asleep... becomes contemplative towards the end. Eilish strums her trademark ukulele, and hums, on the gorgeously warped 8. The album concludes with a trilogy of Eilish's most softly-sung numbers: the piano tearjerker Listen Before I Go; the ascending I Love You, echoing Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah; and the harmonic Goodbye. Unusually in the age of curation, Eilish has rejected external input. She has zero features, unless you count uncredited vocals by her London rap buddy Crooks on Bury A Friend. This month, Eilish is returning to Australia for Groovin The Moo, fresh from Coachella.
Khalid, also headlining Coachella, now rivals Frank Ocean and The Weeknd as an electro 'n' B superstar. But, unlike his predecessors, Khalid's musical mode is characterised by melancholy, euphoria and transcendence. His mother in the military, Khalid experienced a transitory childhood, once living in Germany. They settled in El Paso, Texas. Here, Khalid quietly launched a music career as a high school student, laying down 2016's Location. The single would impress influencer Kylie Jenner, in addition to RCA's A&R department.
Early the next year, Khalid premiered with the emotionally panoramic LP American Teen. He recorded songs with Lorde's cohort Joel Little – one the mega Young Dumb & Broke. American Teen took off. Khalid was nominated for the Best New Artist Grammy. He threw himself into successive collabs, achieving chart ubiquity. In 2017 Khalid sang on Logic's 1-800-273-8255 with Alessia Cara. He then graced The Ways with Swae Lee off Kendrick Lamar's zeitgeist Black Panther The Album and partnered Fifth Harmony's Normani on Love Lies (off the Love, Simon OST). And Khalid teamed with Marshmello for the EDM Silence. In October, he issued a comeback EP, Suncity, declaring it "the start of a new era". Khalid savoured another hit with the hooky, Auto-Tuned anthem Better, guided by Norwegian vets StarGate. Months before Atlanta's Lil Nas X blew up with his country trap Old Town Road, Khalid recruited Kane Brown for a Nashville remix of Saturday Nights.
The 21-year-old's slick new album, Free Spirit, serialises American Teen by thematising growth, adult responsibility, and the consequences of fame (Hundred deals with fake friends). As with Eilish, Khalid eschews features. The sole A-lister present is musician John Mayer (although Toronto rapper SAFE materialises on Murda Beatz' post-trop Don't Pretend). Nonetheless, Khalid has myriad super-producers, among them the Brit Al Shux (co-architect of Lamar's All The Stars with SZA), Hit-Boy and DJ Dahi. Conspicuously, Little is MIA.
Free Spirit is heavy on synths, but Khalid has also discovered '80s guitar. Oddly, the dreamy rocker Outta My Head, with Mayer, is a stand-out. It sounds like Khalid's response to Don Henley's The Boys Of Summer. The LP's lyrics explore relationships in disarray due to miscommunication – note the lead single, Talk, a quirky '90s dance bop Disclosure helmed. In Self, plodding hip hop from Hit-Boy, Khalid opens up about his mental state. Alive is an emo arena ballad. Most 'OMG!', Khalid co-wrote the atmospheric Heaven with Father John Misty, the track elevated by Bjork ally The Haxan Cloak. Mind, nothing here surpasses Better. Khalid has cleverly promoted his second album with a short film, Free Spirit, which screened in cinemas as part of a (ticketed) listening bash. He'll revisit Down Under later in the year.
Worryingly, music's digital renegades can be as ephemeral as their pop-up merch stores. Audiences, and critics, are callously fickle even when it comes to vulnerable young talents. Free Spirit has received mixed reviews – Pitchfork's especially brutal. Shockingly, Sigrid's album Sucker Punch floundered, rendering her single title Don't Kill My Vibe doubly ironic.
Atlanta's Raury, 22, surely cleared a path for Khalid – his emergence correlating with the #Carefreeblackboy movement. In 2014, the hippie singer, rapper and guitarist circulated his Indigo Child mixtape – fusing folk, psychedelia and R&B. Raury's message was one of community, self-empowerment and anti-materialism. On hearing God's Whisper, Kanye West requested they hang out. Hyped as 'a next big thing', Raury joined Columbia Records. He fulfilled an engaging first album in All We Need, with names such as Danger Mouse, RZA and Big KRIT in the credits. Inexplicably, it barely charted Stateside. Raury farewelled Columbia as well as his management company, bucking major label dictates. Last year he unveiled a lowkey mixtape, The Woods, again on SoundCloud. Symbolically, it could be his equivalent of Lauryn Hill's MTV Unplugged No 2.0. And remember Shamir, the flamboyant Las Vegas, Nevada performer? Rostered on the UK's XL Recordings, he busted out with the soulful house On The Regular. In 2015, Shamir presented Ratchet – like Raury, touring with Laneway. But, also like Raury, he split from his label and management. Shamir self-released Hope, a bold, radical departure from Ratchet with its indie and punk ethos, in 2017. Sadly, listeners have slept on two further albums. Protect Billie Eilish and Khalid at all costs!