Sabrina Carpenter may have made an album called Man’s Best Friend, but that doesn’t mean she has men all figured out.

In a new Vogue Italia cover story published Tuesday (Sept. 23), the pop star opened up about her somewhat conflicting feelings toward the opposite sex. “I think they’re a really fun species to watch,” Carpenter began. “In both a good and bad way.”

The Grammy winner went on to differentiate between the positive and negative experiences she’s had with men (some of whom she might classify as man-children). “I feel really adored, inspired and loved by some of them,” she told the publication of men. “And really confused, attacked and ridiculed by others.”

“When one of my friends announces she’s having a son, I rejoice for that child,” Carpenter added. “Because I know he’ll be raised right.”

For more of the singer’s thoughts on men, fans need only listen to Man’s Best Friend, which dropped in August and debuted atop the Billboard 200. On Billboard Hot 100-topping lead single “Manchild,” she laments the incompetencies of the male partners she attracts, while on “Tears,” she caustically raves about how hot it is when a love interest does the bare minimum.

Carpenter has also previously opened up about the heartbreak that inspired Man’s Best Friend. “I think I came out of a sad situation a lot less bitter than I intended or expected to, with a little bit more of the, like, ‘You know what? There’s two people involved, and this is part of growing up,’” she told Zane Lowe earlier in September. “I don’t want to be enemies with people that I loved … I feel like it is one of those situations where, even the album starting with, ‘Oh, boy’ was sort of an eye roll to yourself being like, ‘Here we go again.’”

The conversation with Vogue Italia comes as Carpenter has a number of exciting ventures coming up, with the Girl Meets World alum recently announcing that she’ll soon be making her Grand Ole Opry debut in addition to hosting Saturday Night Live for the first time. She will also headline Coachella in 2026.

Elsewhere in the new interview, Carpenter spoke about how meaningful it’s been to her to have her fans by her side for every step of the way on her rise to superstardom. “The most important thing in the last 10 years of my life has been the people who have brought me to where I am now, the fans who have stuck by me through every moment, the good ones and the bad ones, with the songs they loved and didn’t love,” she reflected. “We’re really growing together.”

See Carpenter on the cover of Vogue Italia below.

After spending years being lauded in R&B circles, Seattle-raised singer-songwriter UMI, 26, is taking lessons learned from past label experiences to spin her evocative, folk-infused People Stories album into a globally resonant healing experience. A Black and Japanese artist who broke through with 2018’s “Remember Me” after years of running the SoundCloud circuit, UMI spent the past seven years solidifying her fanbase and fine-tuning her artistry through international tours, her 2022 debut album, Forest in the City, and collaborations with the likes of BTS’ V (“Wherever U R”) and Joyce Wrice (“That’s On You”). Armed with a pen that effortlessly balances hyper-specificity and universality — and a voice tender and grounded enough to convey the vast expanse of human emotion — UMI plays on the folky, bluesier edges of R&B, which can be traced back to the oral-based storytelling traditions of West African griots. 

That level of introspection can, at times, conflict with an industry more concerned with packaging and selling, and that tension has informed the way UMI moved inside and outside of the label system for the past decade. With People Stories, an album that blends Japanese-sung lyrics (“Mango Sticky Rice”), reggae elements (“Grocery Store”) and 808-laden country inflections (“Rain Rain”), UMI hopes to leverage humanity’s ability to feel “every and any experience and emotion” into proof positive that you don’t need to “explain [music] in one sentence” for people to connect with it. 

“The music industry is in a really weird place right now, especially in America,” she tells Billboard a few hours after performing at a Today Show taping co-hosted by Cardi B. “It feels like nothing’s breaking through because these old systems are about ready to fall apart. I have to tell myself to hold on because no one knows how to market anybody right now. You can’t truthfully sell a soulful thing like music.” 

Below, Billboard’s R&B Rookie of the Month for September details the making of People Stories, starting a new chapter with Epic Records, and working with 6LACK and Diane Warren.

What are some of your earliest musical memories? 

Me in my bedroom making a fake microphone out of paper. I had a bunk bed, and I stuck this paper microphone on the ceiling. I would sit on the top of my bunk bed and pretend I was in the studio. 

Do you find the music that your parents introduced you to still informs the music that you make today? 

Yes, very much so. My mom is Japanese, so I grew up listening to a lot of Japanese pop music. She also played piano, so I listened to a lot of classical music. But she also loved R&B and would go to these R&B nights in Seattle, so she introduced me to Destiny’s Child and TLC. My dad plays the drums, so he introduced me to gospel music, Sade, Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson, the whole spectrum of music.  

What’s the first song you remember being stuck in your head? 

The first thing I ever downloaded on my iPod was the Alvin and the Chipmunks album. [Laughs]. But outside of that, probably, “Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child. My mom used to play so much Destiny’s Child. The melody is so catchy. I’m a lyrics girl, but melodies come first for me. 

How has your approach to singing and songwriting evolved from your very first song to People Stories? 

The first song I put out on the Internet, I just recorded it in my bedroom with a little mic. It was called “Happy Days.” I made this loop on my guitar, and I didn’t know how to do a bunch of layers and fancy stuff, so it was just me and the guitar on a 45-second song wishing for happier days. It was very simple and sweet. Now, my music has that simplicity, but it’s a lot deeper. 1) I can do more, technically and 2) I’ve polished my ability to talk about my emotions. If I were to make a song called “Happy Days” today, it would be a lot richer, like a movie scene. 

Talk to me about leaving Keep Cool/RCA and starting this new chapter with Epic. 

When I was with Keep Cool [beginning in 2018], I had a really great experience. I got to work with Tunji, who’s a very hands-on, artist-first kind of A&R. He gave me a lot of freedom and space to explore myself, so when he left the label [in 2022], I feel like I came face to face with what he was protecting me from, which was the label system. If they don’t know how to sell you — because you might have a unique perspective or a unique style — they want to turn you into something else. If you don’t conform to that, you’re labeled difficult or not sellable. That experience was a hard shot to my confidence because it made me start to place my value in my commercial success or how easily explainable I am. You can’t explain me in one sentence all the time. 

After that, I went independent [from 2021-2024] and got to explore without the pressure of trying to make something for someone to like. I felt ready to sign to a label [after a while] because I wanted to take the music on a grander scale, and Epic Records is very epic. I signed last year, and they are very artist- and process-first, and they invest in ideas, not just commercial things. It’s been a really healing experience for me to see people want to invest and believe in my ideas over and over and over again and not use anything to define my worth. They f—k with who I am and my music, and I think that they’ll be very happy with their investment in me. 

Being independent taught me a lot about leadership, and being at a label taught me that they’re like an army of people who can support you. But if you, the artist, don’t know what direction you want to go in, that’s how you can easily slip between the cracks. 

When did you feel an album coming together? When did you know People Stories was complete? 

I felt the album coming together when I was on tour for Forest in the City [in October 2022], my first album. There’s a song on People Stories called “Mango Sticky Rice.” I wrote it because a fan came up to me after a show in Amsterdam and told me that she met her boyfriend because of my music. For their first date, they went to a Thai restaurant, and they invited me out with them. So, I took the band, and we met the couple and their parents for Thai food, and they told us how they met while we were eating mango sticky rice. That’s when the album’s concept of writing songs about other people’s stories came to me. 

Me and V-Ron, who executive-produced the album, went on a road trip and created this idea of making a folk-inspired album because people’s stories are folk tales. It started off as a folk fusion album, and we wanted to create new sounds, which I think we were successful in doing. The stories became so diverse that folk alone couldn’t contain them, so the album became more R&B again, and by this March, we got the feeling that it was done. I probably made four more songs that are not gonna probably ever come out, but V-Ron let me explore that because I’m a perfectionist.

Did you ever come across a story that made you question if you were the right person to commit it to song? 

“The Limit,” for example, is about a close friend who went through a breakup. I was like, “Can I talk about your breakup? Can I really go there with your story?” But as you write the songs, you realize that you can find yourself in every single story. That was the most healing thing about it. There aren’t any stories that I felt I wasn’t equipped to write about because I think we all have the capacity to feel every and any experience and emotion. I think your ability to do that is tied to how self-aware and connected to yourself you are, and how in touch you are with your emotions. I be feeling a lot! So, I knew I could feel a lot for others as well. 

This album really walks in the legacy of the West African griots, which manifests in the different styles you explore. Was that intentional, or did you just go wherever a given story called you? 

I really wanted people to experience the diverse aspects of my art. I don’t just make R&B, and I don’t just make pop. I wanted to show how multi-dimensional I am, but also how multi-dimensional life is. To accurately express an emotion, the sound has to be accurate. I could have made “The Limit” a folk song, but with the way [my friend] explained the heartbreak, I knew it needed synths to properly tell that story. I also use colors a lot, so if I hear a story that feels blue, when I’m producing, I’m like, “Can you play blue chords?”  

The music industry is so obsessed with commercial ability, sometimes, that it’s trumping the ability to express something accurately. I wanted to challenge that and prove you can do so while still making a hit or a bop. 

Let’s get into the reggae vibe on “Grocery Store.” Where’d that come from? 

My brother-in-law, Q [Marsden], was staying at my place a lot, and he’s Jamaican. He was showing me a lot of music, and he also left all his instruments in the studio, which I felt kept the essence of his spirit in the room. It was also summertime, so I was listening to a lot of upbeat reggae. When we started the session, I told V-Ron that I wanted to make something for our inner child and break all the rules of what we think we can and can’t create. We just started playing the guitar, and it all came together. 

V-Ron programmed all the cool sounds of the cable cord getting plugged in, and I had my mom come upstairs and spit some bars, so she’s on this record too. We also thrifted this old microphone from the ‘30s or the ‘40s that barely works, and recorded vocals on it. The whole song is playful; the theme is a psychedelic trip, so I took stories my fans sent me about their trips and changed the setting to tripping while on your lunch break from working at a grocery store! 

Diane Warren is also in the credits on this record. How did “Safe Room” come to be? 

I had a session with Diane, and she does this thing where she looks at you and is like, “I have a song for you.” Sometimes it’ll take hours to get there, and sometimes it takes weeks. For me, it was like five minutes. I walked in, and she was like, “I have a song for you; you should call a producer right now.” Diane pulled out a sheet from a stack of papers, and it was all crumpled up with the lyrics to the song. She started playing it on the guitar, and I sang with her, and she was like, “It’s your song.” So, V-Ron comes in and fleshes out the production and the rest [is] history. We took it home, finished it together and added stuff to it, but that was my first Diane experience! She’s like a song vessel writing machine. 

Why was it important to keep ambient sound present across the record? 

When we first started making the album, I tried to book a studio. It was a fancy, underground studio, and I started crying as soon as I walked in. I couldn’t make the album there; it was too polished and clean. I felt all my creativity getting sucked out of me.  

Ever since that day, I canceled all the sessions we booked and did the whole album either at my house or V-Ron’s house. Because of that, the AC’s running, the dog’s barking, everything’s in there. Even when we were mixing, we were like, “That crack is there on purpose, do not make it perfect.” If the album is called People Stories, the music has to reflect the theme of the album top to bottom — and life isn’t perfect.  

Why did you choose 6LACK as the album’s only feature? 

It just happened like that. I met 6LACK at an open mic, and he was rapping over a saxophone and violin when I walked in. I thought it was so sick, so we talked after and became friends. Anytime I was in Atlanta, he’d pop out at my show; if he was in L.A., I’d pop out and see him.  

I sent him a pack of songs, and he liked “Hard Truths.” He cut that song while I was working on People Stories, and I figured I’d put it on the album. I also asked some other artists to be on the album, but there’s a divine timing for everything, and 6LACK felt like he fit this one. I’m not going to force anything else if that’s what it’s meant to be. 

How do you plan to continue bringing this album to life through music videos and live performances? 

I have a tour starting at the end of next month, so I’m building out the creative for that. I’m a concepts girl, so I will flesh out a concept all the way. People will not only get to hear People Stories, but they’ll also experience the album tangibly. I think this will be one of the most unique experiences people have gotten from a live show. I hope to make some more music videos, as well as more fan events. The theme of this album is human connection, so I want to connect with people for the rest of the rollout. 

What color is People Stories for you today? 

It’s a golden yellow to me today because I feel so happy talking about it with you. 

“My last words” are the first words on Lost Ones, the debut album by Chase McDaniel, which he released Sept. 19.

The opening song, “Before I Let You Go,” addressed his father’s death by overdose, a tragedy that some members of the family believe was a suicide. McDaniel also attempted to take his own life: He sat on a Louisville, Ky., bridge eight or 10 years ago, ready to free fall onto a slab of concrete, when a pair of arms pulled him from the ledge.

The road back was difficult. It took several years before he could talk comfortably about the episode; instead, he got reacquainted with his guitar and started writing obsessively —  three or four songs a day — as he explored the dark spaces in his life. Slowly, the songs began to incorporate flashes of hope as he recognized he could reshape his stories. That describes most of the material on Lost Ones, appropriately arriving during National Suicide Prevention Month.

“I don’t want to be out here on a soapbox encouraging other people to sink into the chaos,” McDaniel says. “I want to be the lantern that goes into the dark and says, ‘Hey, this way.’”

The chaos is familiar among country artists. Naomi Judd, Tom T. Hall, Mindy McCready, Gary Stewart, former Oak Ridge Boy Steve Sanders and The Earl Scruggs Revue‘s Steve Scruggs are among those who have taken their lives. Johnny Cash, Hank Williams Jr., Willie Nelson, Chase Bryant, Ty Herndon and Bryan Martin have all publicly disclosed they attempted suicide. And Chely Wright stopped short of an actual attempt in 2006 when she saw herself crying in a mirror with a gun in her mouth. The tears signaled to her that she still wanted to live. Like McDaniel, she started writing, though the format was an autobiography: the 2010 book Like Me, which opens with that dramatic scene.

“I’ve been so enriched in my life by sharing my breakdown,” she says, “which I now affectionately refer to as my breakthrough.”

The majority of the population considers suicide at some point in life, though often, those thoughts are a fleeting curiosity. More than 4% of Americans had serious suicidal thoughts during 2015-2019, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, but the rate is higher among musicians. A study published by Frontiers in Public Healthfound that culture, media and the arts are among the five most at-risk career sectors; men in those occupations are 20% more likely than the general population to commit suicide, while women are 69% more likely.

That might surprise the casual observer. The industry romanticizes the life of an artist, but it’s a difficult existence for which most aspirants are unprepared. Travel is physically taxing, and country artists — particularly in their early years on the national stage — tour incessantly. Every day is a new venue in a new city with a new set of local contacts and, perhaps, a new set of temptations. They’re away from their family, and if they left town amid an unresolved argument or some other turmoil, they have plenty of time to think themselves into an emotional hole, particularly on days when fatigue consumes them.

“You’ve just given the whole reason why Porter’s Call has existed for the last 24 years,” says Chad Karger, co-executive director of a nonprofit in Franklin, Tenn., that provides emotional support for artists.

Porter’s Call works with 700-1,000 artists a year, Karger estimates, helping them find ways to cope with unique vocational circumstances.  That often includes redefining their relationship with their public persona. Younger performers, in particular, tend to glamorize fame, only to find that it’s a hollow trap once they attain it. It’s also fleeting, subject to the whims of a fickle audience and the evolving nature of the stylistic trends in entertainment. The artists who navigate their careers in the healthiest manner tend to see their work with greater purpose.

“Our founder, Al Andrews, he’s famous for saying that the human soul is not made for fame,” Karger notes. “Fame is not a good reason to do this. You’re going to have to have a much more compelling ‘why’ to do the hard things in front of you.”

Most hopeful artists, of course, never make it. They might be the most musically talented person in their city or region, but once they move to Nashville, they compete with scads of established talents for attention in an overstimulated media landscape. It typically takes several years to refine skills and make key connections — there’s a reason Nashville is called a “10-year town” — though most days, it’s hard to see the progress.

“Going home for the holidays as a person who hasn’t made it yet, it’s hard because your family asks you, ‘How are things going? Didn’t you get a deal yet? Didn’t you get signed?’ ” recalls Wright, who now works as senior vp of corporate social responsibility and new market growth for ISS North America, a firm that designs workspaces and handles specialized staffing for numerous corporate offices. “Your friends from high school are like, ‘I guess you’re not going to make it.’ I mean, it’s just so nebulous.”

“Nebulous” is a good word for it. It’s easier to determine in many traditional jobs when the work is done. A roofer knows the task is completed when the last shingle is in place, an accountant can take solace in having the books balanced, and a waiter considers the job finished when the bill is paid and the customer asks for a take-home box.

But the standards for a job well done are notably variable in the music business. Miranda Lambert‘s recording of “The House That Built Me” and Billy Ray Cyrus‘ “Achy Breaky Heart” are very different efforts, but both became career-defining hits for the artist. Knowing what will work is often difficult to predict, and even when a musician is successful, they frequently wish they could resing their songs, even though fans are studying every nuance as they learn to sing along.

“It’s hard to know when you’ve done something good or when you haven’t,” McDaniel says. “It can kind of leave you in a constant state of anxiety and fear that, ‘Hey, I’ve put all of my marbles into this. I have put my entire life on hold.’ We put a lot on the line for something that might not work at the end of the day.”

But it rarely works unless the artist is willing to work hard. Most baby acts are in constant motion on the way up: writing songs, connecting with fellow musicians, hustling for live gigs and often holding down a job or two to pay the bills. In recent years, do-it-yourself opportunities have grown, but that creates additional work. Independent artists are under pressure to post increasing amounts of music on multiple streaming channels and are also required to amass large volumes of followers on social media. So as they log 12-, 15- and 18-hour days on their job with no objective way to verify actual progress, they struggle to maintain regular sleep patterns, making them more emotionally fragile. Throw in other issues — such as addictions, family problems or ongoing mental health challenges — and the pursuit can trigger depression, particularly if the artist is exploring dark topics in their writing.

For new or developing acts, it’s a volatile stew.

“The touring artist right now is really struggling to fill rooms,” Karger says. “So not only are they going away from their family as they walk out the door for the 200th time that year, but then they’re facing this kind of looming threat of half-full rooms or undersold venues. If a person is struggling with a persistent  underlying mental illness, then those factors come along and up the ante on the possibility of some really reckless and dangerous ideation and choices.”

Many are loath to discuss suicidal thoughts or attempts publicly, so when an artist such as Wright does come forward, it can have a big impact.

“Have other artists shared with me how close they came?” she asks rhetorically. “I’d need five more hands to count up a lot of them, [including some] household names.”

Fortunately, the skills an artist establishes during their journey can provide the key to bouncing back if — or when — they hit bottom emotionally.

“Most of the news we get is not the news we want to get, yet we press on,” Wright says. “And there’s an innate resilience that artists have to have. It’s a great part of developing yourself.”

That resilience is available once artists recognize the conditions that corrode their mental health. That includes turning away from fame and other external results as their motivation and instead focusing on their own creative enjoyment and the possibility of making a difference. Once they’re able to retool their outlook, suicidal tendencies are usually reduced, if not entirely removed.

“That’s the gold cord that keeps me going,” McDaniel says. “You get in your head about all the superficial stuff — about being competitive or the [social media] views, the numbers and sales — and end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Like, if you make a difference, that was the goal all along.” 

If you are struggling with your mental health, call or text 988 to connect with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline, which is available 24 hours a day.

The countdown for Billboard Latin Music Week has officially begun: On Thursday (Sept. 18), Billboard unveiled the full lineup for the event’s 2025 return to The Fillmore Miami Beach from Oct. 20 to 24. 

The announcement was made during a press conference hosted at The Fillmore, where Leila Cobo, chief content officer of Billboard Latin/Español; Miami Beach mayor Steven Meiner; and talents Bebeshito, Guaynaa and Paola Ruiz were in attendance. 

More than 30 panels and conversations, in addition to showcases and roundtables, will take place at this year’s Billboard Latin Music Week, while more than 100 speakers and artists will participate in the event. This is the 36th anniversary of the event, the longest-running in Latin music, which returns to the Fillmore for the second year in a row.

Following the press conference, an exclusive advisory dinner was celebrated at The Den at Azabu Miami Beach for key music executives. At the top of the evening, Cobo welcomed the guests with opening remarks.

“Thank you very much for coming,” said Cobo. “This group represents executives that I’m in contact with permanently and who provide me with unfiltered feedback and great ideas. You represent different companies in the industry that I value greatly, and this is our way of saying thank you very much for everything. We hope to see you at Billboard Latin Music Week.”

Those in attendance included executives from agencies, concert promotion companies, record labels, management firms and broadcaster Telemundo, which will air the awards live on Oct. 23.

See below for photographs from the intimate celebration.

For Ocean Alley, they just needed confidence to get things rolling.

The indie surf-rock outfit returns with Love Balloon, their fifth studio album which got air last Friday, Sept. 19 via Community Music.

For the first time, the Australian six-piece worked with legendary rock producer Nick DiDia, following an introduction from former Powderfinger frontman Bernard Fanning.

“You can tell how experienced he is,” enthuses vocalist Baden Donegal, “because he was just so laid back and everything just gets done and on time. He just knows what’s down the road, and we’re still learning all of that.”

After a couple beers and some rounds of golf with DiDia, the musicians just “hung out like mates” and talked a little bit about music. “It was just the most cruisy kind of mutual relationship that we’ve had so far,”recounts bassist Nic Blom.

The result is cruisy, too.

Spreading across 10 tracks, Love Balloon is a dreamy, chilled journey that should hit the target with the Australian band’s growing fanbase.

Led by the singles “Tangerine,” “Left Of The Dealer” and the title track, the new set was recorded over three stints, across roughly three months. Those final recording sessions were “more like a ‘plug-in and play’ sort of approach,” remarks guitarist Angus Goodwin. “Like, very much an old school approach.”

Which checks out. Ocean Alley’s throwback sound is like an antidote to the rush of modern life.

The group smashed through the barriers with 2018’s “Confidence”, which topped triple J’s Hottest 100 poll. Its parent Chiaroscuro narrowly missed out on a top 10 peak on the ARIA Albums Chart, hitting No. 11. Follow-ups Lonely Diamond (from 2020) and Low Altitude Living (2022) both peaked at No. 3 on the national survey. “Confidence” is now six-times platinum certified in Australia, and total streams across all the band’s songs exceed 1 billion.

With the breakthrough of “Confidence,” life in the band got a “whole lot more serious,” says guitarist Mitch Galbraith. “There were a lot of changes we had to make, the show had to be a lot more professional. There was a lot more pressure. We had to tone back the beers before we went on stage and to make sure that every note was correct. Get the key right.”

They’ll hit those notes when they return to North America for a second run of headline dates starting Oct. 2 at Empire Control Room & Garage in Austin, TX. Earlier stops this year have included festival appearances at Lollapalooza, Brooklyn Paramount Austin City Limits and Hollywood Palladium. But first, a dream gig at London’s 10,000 capacity Alexandra Palace on Saturday, Sept. 27.

Would a No. 1 album scratch an itch? “It’d be nice. Yeah, sure, I wouldn’t say no to a No. 1 album,” says Donegal. “We’ve never really cared or chased a trophy or an accolade like that. I think we’re just we’re stoked when we finish a record and we’re happy with it and whatever happens, happens. We still get to like fly around the world playing music to our fans. We love what we do.”

U.S. 2025 Tour Dates
Oct. 2 @ Empire Control Room & Garage – Austin, TX
Oct. 3 @ House of Blues Houston – Houston, TX
Oct. 4 @ Austin City Limits Music Festival – Austin, TX
Oct. 6 @ House of Blues – New Orleans, LA
Oct. 8 @ Brooklyn Bowl Nashville – Nashville, TN
Oct. 10 @ House Of Blues – Dallas, TX
Oct. 11 @ Austin City Limits Music Festival – Austin, TX
Oct. 13 @ The Truman – Kansas City, MO
Oct.15 @ Mission Ballroom – Denver, CO
October 17 @ Hollywood Palladium – Los Angeles, CA