Tash P

When people ask Latasha “Tash P” Perry where her story begins, she doesn’t hesitate: “Harrisburg, you know, that’s home, it’s what made me Tash P.” For Tash, Harrisburg is more than just a city—it’s the backdrop for every formative moment, the place that gave her both grit and inspiration. Growing up in Harrisburg in the early 2000s meant being surrounded by realness, resilience, and a sense of community where everyone knew your name. It was a place where music was everywhere—on street corners, in living rooms, and, most memorably for Tash, on the school bus.At 14, while most kids were still figuring out who they were, Tash P was discovering her voice. The MySpace era was booming—back when sharing music online felt revolutionary and every new friend request could change your life. “I’m kinda telling my age, but it was the MySpace days, lol,” she laughs. But for Tash, music started even before the uploads and profile songs. It started on those legendary high school bus rides home, where local teens would freestyle, battle, and show off their lyrical skills. “I used to hear other high school artists rap on the bus. I didn’t even know I could rap until I tried seriously, ‘cause I used to just rap with my homegirls and just make up silly rhymes.”What began as playful banter became something deeper. “I just kept trying, honestly. Pretty soon, I became one of the artists that rapped on the back of the bus too.” That space—raucous, supportive, competitive—became her first stage. It was here that Tash learned to hold her own, to command attention, and to let her creativity flow without fear or filter. The back of the bus was a proving ground, and Tash quickly became known as someone who could spit with the best of them.But Harrisburg’s influence went beyond music. The city taught her about loyalty, about standing tall, and about never forgetting where you come from. “That’s really where it all started for me. It was about being fearless, putting yourself out there, and just letting the music flow.” The lessons she learned here—about authenticity and ambition—would follow her throughout her career.

As Tash P’s confidence grew, so did her ambition. She started recording her own tracks—raw, unpolished, but full of heart—using whatever equipment she could get her hands on. “I had no idea about mixing and mastering at the time—just made a music MySpace.” In those days, MySpace was more than a social network; it was a digital stage, a place where unknown artists could connect with fans, collaborators, and even industry insiders.It was through MySpace that Tash’s world expanded. “I met the CEO K.O. (Danny) on MySpace around age 17 or 18. I sent one of my songs—I think I used to record on my computer—he heard it, was in the same city, next thing you know I’m rolling with them.” That simple message changed everything. K.O. saw something in Tash before she even fully believed in herself. He invited her to join Sykkline Entertainment, an independent label that was home to a tight-knit crew of up-and-coming artists: Spitz, Yinnix, Tuck, Shak, Mookie (R.I.P), and more.Sykkline was more than a label—it was a family. “Sykkline was honestly the blueprint of Tash P outside of my high school shenanigans. They saw the talent waaay before I did.” The crew welcomed her with open arms, giving her space to experiment, to learn, and to grow. “They really paved the way for me and showed me how to be an artist. They taught me about writing, performing, and the business. It was more than music—it was about building something together.”Studio sessions with Sykkline were legendary—long nights fueled by ambition and creativity, where everyone pushed each other to be better. “We were all hungry, just trying to make our mark. Sykkline gave me the space to experiment, to fail, to get back up and try again.” They celebrated each other’s wins, supported each other through setbacks, and built a foundation that would last long after the music stopped playing.Being part of Sykkline also meant learning the ropes of the industry—the importance of networking, the realities of promotion, and the power of believing in your own vision. “I learned so much from them—not just about music, but about life.” For Tash, those early years were about more than just finding her sound; they were about finding her tribe.

By 19, Tash P was no longer just a local talent—she was a force to be reckoned with. The turning point came when she was awarded Best Female Artist at the Central PA Hip Hop Awards. “Winning Best Female Artist indeed was huge! I was only 19 at the time, so it was kinda at that moment when I was like, ok, I really can make music, I really have a gift.”This wasn’t just another accolade—it was a moment of self-realization. For Tash, the award was validation that her passion, her persistence, and her willingness to put herself out there had paid off. “That win made me believe in myself. It was proof that all the hard work, all the bus rides, all the late nights in the studio were worth it. It gave me the confidence to keep pushing, to dream bigger.”But the recognition also came with responsibility. Suddenly, Tash had an audience looking up to her, peers cheering her on, and a city rooting for her success. She was determined not to let them down. “It wasn’t just about me anymore—it was about representing Harrisburg, representing women in hip hop, and showing the next generation that anything is possible.”Winning the award opened new doors—bigger shows, more collaborations, and a growing fanbase. But for Tash, the most important thing was staying true to her roots. “No matter how far I go, I’ll always be that girl from Harrisburg who started on the back of the bus.”

Looking back, Tash P sees those early years as the spark that ignited everything that followed. Each bus ride, each studio session, each small victory and setback was a building block, shaping not just her music, but her character. “Those bus rides, those studio sessions, those first shows—they made me who I am. They taught me to be fearless, to trust my voice, and to keep going no matter what.”Her journey is a testament to the power of perseverance and community. She didn’t have fancy equipment or a major label deal—just a computer, a MySpace page, and relentless drive. “I learned to never give up, to keep showing up for myself, and to always remember where I came from.”For Tash, the lessons of Harrisburg and Sykkline are woven into every lyric, every performance, and every new project. “These early experiences didn’t just shape my sound—they shaped me. I’m grateful for every moment, every lesson, every challenge. They made me the artist, and the woman, I am today.”As she continues to rise, Tash P carries her city, her crew, and her younger self with her—proof that greatness can start anywhere, even in the back of a Harrisburg school bus.

There are artists whose voices linger in your mind long after the last note fades, but few can warm your heart quite like Tea. Known on stage by a name that’s both a clever pun and a perfect metaphor, Tea pours her soul into every note, delivering music that comforts and uplifts, just like a steaming cup of tea on a chilly day. This is more than a stage name—it’s a reflection of her spirit, her artistry, and the impact she has on everyone lucky enough to listen.

Tea didn’t choose her name on a whim. Over the years, she noticed a pattern: people would approach her after shows, or slide into her DMs, sharing how her music helped them through heartbreak, loss, or moments of doubt. Some said her voice “ministered to their soul,” while others described feeling lighter and more hopeful after hearing her sing. Tea realized she was, quite literally, serving comfort and healing—one song at a time. That’s when it clicked: her music wasn’t just entertainment, it was a warm embrace, a light in the darkness. She became “Tea”—the artist who soothes and inspires.

Tea’s musical journey began before most kids can tie their shoes. Raised in a family where church was the heartbeat of the community, she found her first stage at five years old. Her uncle, recognizing her gift, handpicked her to sing a solo at their family church. The congregation was stunned—a tiny girl with a big, soulful voice, singing with the conviction of someone decades older. That moment wasn’t just a proud family memory; it was the spark that lit Tea’s lifelong passion for music.

By twelve, Tea had become the lead vocalist for her church’s youth choir. It was a big responsibility, but it taught her something priceless: how to lead, how to trust her instincts, and how to inspire others through music. “That experience built up a confidence in myself that I am as great as I think I am, and the sky is the limit,” she reflects. Those early days shaped not just her voice, but her sense of self-worth and her belief in the power of music to connect and uplift.

Tea’s teen years took her behind the scenes, where she honed her craft as a background vocalist for other artists—both live and in the studio. Far from being a step back, this chapter deepened her love for music’s subtler side. She fell in love with harmony, the magic of blending voices, and the thrill of creating ad libs that add unexpected flavor to a song. These skills now define her sound, giving her music a richness and emotional depth that’s instantly recognizable.

Ask Tea what’s happening inside when she sings, and she’ll describe a spark in her chest—a physical, electric feeling that tells her she’s exactly where she’s meant to be. “I close my eyes and feel every note before I belt it out,” she says. For Tea, singing isn’t just performance; it’s a full-body, soul-deep experience. Each show is a chance to connect, to heal, and to remind her audience (and herself) that music is a universal language of hope.

Tea’s artistry is a colorful blend of influences. She draws on the electric showmanship of Michael Jackson, the timeless soul of The Temptations, the emotional honesty of Selena, the smooth brilliance of Brandy, the creative spark of Victoria Monét, and the raw storytelling of Jessie Reyez. These legends inspire her harmonies, her chord choices, and her ability to connect with listeners on a deeply personal level. Tea’s songwriting is lightning-fast—she can write a full song in less than ten minutes—yet every lyric is packed with meaning and heart.

What does Tea hope you feel when you press play on her music? Pure passion. “Music is the only form of art that feels like home,” she shares. She wants listeners to feel that sense of belonging, to know they’re not alone, and to find comfort in her melodies.

Tea’s talent didn’t go unnoticed. In 2013, she signed as the lead female vocalist with Realeyez Entertainment, performing at Baltimore’s AFRAM Festival and countless open mic venues. Each performance brought new fans and deeper self-assurance. It was the audience’s response, their cheers and heartfelt messages, that made Tea realize: “I belong here.”

Looking to expand her reach, Tea released a Christmas album on SoundCloud, putting her own soulful twist on beloved classics. It was a strategic move—familiar songs, but with her signature warmth and originality, inviting new listeners to experience her voice in a fresh way.

Now, Tea is stepping boldly into her solo chapter. She’s evolving—spiritually, mentally, and emotionally—and her upcoming debut EP is a reflection of that growth. The project is deeply personal, charting her journey through heartbreak, healing, and self-love. “It shows a positive outlook on life and to love yourself first. It shows a vulnerable side that I’ve been hurt, and to not be afraid to walk away from what isn’t meant for you,” she says. “You are in control of your life and no one else. No one can save you, but you.”

In an industry that often pressures artists to fit a mold, Tea remains fiercely authentic. “I am very protective of my music because it is my baby. I only want to produce art that is authentic to me,” she explains. She’s proud to stand out and be different, trusting that the right people will connect with her music—and the wrong ones simply won’t.

Like many artists, Tea’s journey hasn’t been without detours. She stepped away from music for a while, pouring her energy into motherhood and daily life. But music never left her soul. “The only thing I’ve ever been passionate about was music. So, I dived back in full force. I owe it to myself to fulfill my purpose and do what makes me light up inside.”

To experience Tea live is to feel seen, heard, and empowered. Her shows are more than performances—they’re gatherings of comfort, connection, and inspiration. “I want people to feel empowered when they leave, to never give up on yourself, and if you don’t believe in yourself then who will?”

Tea dreams big. She hopes to collaborate with artists like Jessie Reyez, Victoria Monét, Kevin Ross, Ari Lennox, and Alex Vaughn. Her next milestones? A successful EP release, a record deal, and a countrywide tour—spreading her message of hope, healing, and authenticity to listeners everywhere.In every song, every show, and every heartfelt lyric, Tea proves that music—like a perfect cup of tea—has the power to change lives, one soul at a time.

Blackwell’s rise in the hip-hop and R&B world is a testament to what happens when talent, hustle, and heart collide. His journey is filled with viral hits, high-profile collaborations, and moments that blur the line between music, media, and personal growth. But for Blackwell, every milestone is more than a number—it’s a chapter in an unfolding story of self-belief, learning, and lifting others up.

Surreal Milestones

Some artists measure their careers in streams or sales, but for Blackwell, the most surreal moments are the ones that pushed him into new territory. “2025 was the year everything started feeling real,” he shares. “Landing cameos in two movies—‘Hats Off To Love’ on Netflix and ‘Mother Nature and The Doomsday Prepper’ on Amazon Prime—was wild. Both were filmed in Florida, and just being on set, seeing how things work behind the scenes, it was eye-opening.”

But acting isn’t his only leap. That same year, Blackwell started his own podcast, The Jump Off Podcast, on iHeartRadio. “I always wanted to give artists and creators a platform to tell their stories, not just mine. Podcasting was a new challenge, but it let me connect with people in a different way. It’s about inspiring others and showing that you can wear many hats in this industry.”

The Stories Behind the Hits

Blackwell’s music is rooted in storytelling, humor, and the kind of wordplay that sticks with you. Take “Poundcake”—a song inspired by a phrase he heard growing up. “It was an old saying for describing a beautiful, thick woman—and I love the dessert too, so I thought, why not put the two together?” The result is a track that’s both playful and empowering, filled with clever punchlines and a beat you can’t help but dance to. “I wanted to make something fun, something that celebrates body positivity and makes people feel good about themselves.”

“Signs of Life (Remix)” is another milestone, born from a cross-genre collaboration with Dallas EDM artist Amiko. “She was using the original song to motivate her soccer team, and when I heard it, I knew I wanted to add a positive, uplifting rap verse. That collab changed my approach—I realized how much I love making music that lifts people up and makes them want to move.”

Both songs didn’t just rack up streams—they landed major sync placements, with “Poundcake” featured in a Coke commercial and “Signs of Life” finding a home in Apple TV’s Ted Lasso. “Seeing your music in a commercial or a hit TV show? That’s when you realize your art can reach people way beyond your own circle.”

Sharing the Stage with Legends

Opening for legendary acts like Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, LL Cool J, and Afroman is the stuff of dreams for any artist. For Blackwell, it was also a crash course in professionalism and quick thinking. “I’ll never forget a show with Bone Thugs where the sound cut out by accident. I just started freestyling, kept the crowd hyped, and when the music came back, they thought it was part of the act. Bone Thugs came up to me after and said, ‘Great job, man, you kept it going.’ That moment taught me to always be ready—no matter what goes wrong, you keep your head up and deliver.”

Collaborations and Creative Process

Blackwell’s collaborative resume is stacked, featuring names like Yo Gotti, Kid Ink, and Chris Brown. “Working with Kid Ink and Chris Brown was all remote—emailing verses back and forth—but I’m grateful they let me jump on the remix. With Yo Gotti, it was different. He dropped a song with an open verse and invited people to send in their parts. He picked mine, and we released it together. That kind of recognition from an artist at his level? I’m forever grateful.”

He explains that his creative process is all about authenticity and mutual respect. “When I collaborate, I want it to feel organic. Sometimes you’re in the studio together, sometimes you’re sending files, but the energy has to be right. The best moments are when everyone’s pushing each other to try something new.”

Evolving Sound, Staying True

With each release, Blackwell continues to evolve while honoring his hip-hop roots. His latest tracks, “Voluptuous” and the House Mix with LeeLee Da Goddess, are a testament to his commitment to body positivity and fun. “I wanted ‘Voluptuous’ to be a sequel to ‘Poundcake’—another anthem for plus-size and curvy women. The word itself is a compliment, and I wanted the song to have that same danceable, joyful energy.”

He’s strategic about remixes, too. “Not every song needs a remix, but as an indie artist, you want to reach different crowds—the club scene, the DJs, the younger listeners. If I can get people dancing, I know I’m on the right track. Working with LeeLee Da Goddess was a blessing; she’s always busy, always creating, and I love that energy. We both promote each other, so it’s a win-win.”

No matter the genre—house, EDM, boombap, even country—Blackwell says, “I always bring my hip-hop roots. That’s who I am, and that’s what makes my music unique.”

Industry Impact & Media

Blackwell’s music has reached audiences he once only dreamed of, thanks to placements in commercials and TV shows. “Having a song in a Coke commercial, or in Ted Lasso, is a huge deal. It motivates me to keep creating outside the box and to connect with people who might not even be hip-hop fans. It’s about courage—pushing myself to try new things and reach new audiences.”

His foray into acting happened almost by accident. “I never set out to be an actor. I just liked being on set, seeing how things worked. But people would hear me talk, I’d make them laugh, and the next thing I knew, the director was giving me a part. It’s a learning experience, and you meet so many creative people.”

As DJ/Host of Street Madness Radio Show Atlanta, Blackwell brings things full circle. “I started as a DJ, even did shows with The Boogie Boys back in the day. When I went to school for music marketing, my class project was to record and market an artist, and everyone picked me. That’s when I caught the bug for being on the mic. I still love being behind the scenes, but now I get to do both.”

Overcoming Challenges and Staying Grounded

The music industry isn’t easy, and Blackwell is candid about the challenges. “Money was always tight—studio time, shooting videos, it all adds up. I finally told myself, do this yourself. Learn everything you can, don’t depend on anyone, but always learn from others. Once you accomplish one thing, it motivates you to keep pushing.”

His support system keeps him focused. “My family keeps me grounded, and honestly, bills keep you humble too! I don’t let ego get in the way. I’m always thinking, ‘That was great—now what’s next?’”

Advice for Indie Artists

For anyone chasing a dream in today’s music scene, Blackwell’s advice is real: “Learn the business. It’s not like the ‘80s or ‘90s—social media changed everything, and now AI is here too. Learn what happens behind the scenes, understand music law, because that’s where the money is. Anyone can be an artist, but marketing and networking are key. I know a 60-year-old grandpa who’s a DJ and putting out records! It’s about who you know and how you move.”

Legacy & Aspirations

Looking ahead, Blackwell wants to leave a legacy that breaks barriers. “No matter your race or age, you can do anything in this rap game. Don’t be afraid to be different. I was, and I had to step out of my comfort zone, but now I want people to remember me for that.”

He dreams big—like headlining Rolling Loud. “That stage, that audience, the energy—it would be a dream come true. And if I could collaborate with anyone, it’d be Rakim. He’s the Godfather, and his style changed the way I write and even how I carry myself.”

The Fun Side

Blackwell’s journey is filled with unforgettable moments. “The wildest fan encounter? I did a show for a plus-size event in Florida, and a woman I’d never met told everyone she was my fiancée and even tried to collect my money at the door, saying she was my manager! Thankfully, the staff checked with me first. I guess my music really got to her.”

He sums it all up with a smile:Blackwell is… stepping on the negative and bringing the positive to the dance floor.

FOLLOW BLACKWELL:YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@official_blackwellTikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@official_blackwellInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/official_blackwellSoundCloud: https://www.soundcloud.com/official_blac

Twavette doesn’t just sing—she sang. And if you grew up anywhere near a church choir stand, a quartet anniversary, or a sanctuary where the music hits so hard it raises the hair on your arms, you already understand the difference.

For Twavette, those early moments weren’t just “practice.” They were training grounds. They were the spaces where she learned that a voice can do more than carry a melody—it can captivate, shake a room, and leave people changed.

Church taught her the difference between singing and “sangin”

When Twavette talks about her upbringing, she doesn’t describe it like a cute origin story. She describes it like a foundation. Church harmonies taught her discipline, control, and power—but more than anything, they taught her what it feels like when a voice is so full of emotion and intention that it becomes unforgettable.

“It taught me the difference between singing and sangin,” she says. “It taught me that the voice has the ability to captivate.”

That word—captivate—matters. Because in the world Twavette came up in, vocals weren’t background decoration. They were the main event.

She remembers watching quartet groups and going to anniversaries—those special services where the voices are turned all the way up, and the room is filled with people who came ready to feel something.

“Hearing voices that made your hair stand up… I wanted to do that every time I wanted to sing.”

That’s the kind of standard you don’t unlearn. It becomes your baseline. It becomes the reason you refuse to be “just okay.”

The 90s/early-2000s R&B soundtrack that shaped her ear

Alongside church, Twavette’s musical DNA is deeply rooted in the smooth, emotional storytelling of 90s and early-2000s R&B—the era where ballads were allowed to be dramatic, love songs were allowed to be messy, and vocalists weren’t afraid to go there.

That influence shows up in her sound today: classic but not dated, emotional but not forced, and always led by vocals that feel like they’re telling the truth.

Vocal greatness as a blueprint: Whitney, Beyoncé, and Michael

Ask Twavette who shaped her as a listener and as a performer, and she names three icons who each represent a different kind of excellence.

Whitney Houston is first—because some things are simply undeniable.

“Whitney Houston based on raw vocal talent and rich tone,” Twavette says.

That’s not just admiration—it’s a blueprint. Whitney represents that once-in-a-generation vocal authority: tone, control, power, and emotion all living in the same note.

Then there’s Beyoncé, not just for the talent, but for the work ethic.

“Beyoncé simply because of her level of dedication to her craft.”

That dedication is the part people forget when they talk about “gifted” artists. Twavette recognizes that longevity is built, not wished for.

And finally, Michael Jackson—because timelessness is the goal.

“Michael Jackson for giving timeless music.”

Twavette’s influences aren’t random. They’re intentional. She’s drawn to artists who didn’t just make songs—they made moments, and they left behind music that still lives.

Turning vulnerability into artistry: the story behind “Cold Hearted”

Twavette’s debut single “Cold Hearted” is emotionally charged in a way that feels lived-in, not manufactured. It’s the kind of song that doesn’t sound like it was written for a trend—it sounds like it was written because it had to be.

And that’s because it was.

She wrote “Cold Hearted” in 2017, and it didn’t even start as a song.

“I wrote ‘Cold Hearted’ in 2017 which originally was a poem, back when my relationship was over and done. I didn’t actually record it until 2019.”

The inspiration is painful and direct: a love that ended, not with closure, but with repeated emotional dismissal.

“The man I was madly in love with was able to look me in the face and repeatedly tell me he didn’t care about me/my feelings.”

That kind of cruelty doesn’t always arrive as one big dramatic moment. Sometimes it’s the repetition that does the damage—the slow erosion.

“Each time, I felt my heart go colder until nothing was left to feel.”

That’s the emotional temperature of “Cold Hearted.” It’s not just heartbreak—it’s the moment heartbreak turns into numbness. And Twavette doesn’t shy away from that truth. She turns it into art.

A “ballad baby” who writes from the mind’s replay button

Twavette calls herself a “ballad baby,” and it makes perfect sense when you hear how she describes her writing process.

“Those are the easiest for me to write,” she says, referring to themes like love and resilience. “Just based on the way my mental health will slip, replaying certain events that I will reassess differently than when it initially happened.”

That’s a songwriter’s superpower—and a heavy one.

Because when your mind replays moments on loop, you don’t just remember what happened. You remember what you felt, what you missed, what you ignored, what you wish you would’ve said, and what you finally understand now.

That reassessment becomes lyrics. That emotional processing becomes melody. And the result is music that feels like a confession you didn’t know you needed.

A creative process that doesn’t stay in one lane

Twavette’s creativity doesn’t follow a neat step-by-step formula. It moves the way real inspiration moves: unpredictably.

“My creative process jumps around constantly,” she says. “I have songs I’ve written and hear vividly, but cannot articulate the production behind it.”

Sometimes the song is fully formed in her head, but the soundscape is still out of reach.

And other times, it’s the opposite.

“There’s music I’ve purchased/was given… and can’t find a single topic that I like or a song I’ve already written to match.”

That honesty is refreshing, because it highlights something most people don’t realize: songwriting isn’t always about “having ideas.” Sometimes it’s about alignment—finding the moment where the emotion, the story, and the sound all click into place.

Keeping the classics alive by writing a “response” to them

Twavette’s approach to blending old-school R&B with a modern edge is one of the most interesting parts of her artistry.

“I balance those elements by writing a response to those older songs, regardless of genre or decade,” she explains.

That means she’s not just inspired by the vibe—she’s in conversation with the music.

“If I hear something that resonates, I have to read the lyrics to make sure I understand the passion behind it. I may reference the original or mention the artist.”

That’s how you honor the past without copying it. You respond to it. You build on it. You keep the emotional lineage going.

Dream collaborations that reveal her musical heart

Twavette’s dream collaborators read like a hall of fame—artists whose voices and artistry are etched into music history.

“Majority of the people I’d like to work with are now deceased,” she says, naming Aretha Franklin, Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Amy Winehouse, Etta James, and Luther Vandross.

That list tells you everything: she loves vocalists who feel like something. Artists who could break your heart with one note.

But she’s also tuned into the now.

“Some newer artist I’d love to work with are Jazmine Sullivan, BigXthaPlug, H.E.R., and Leon Thomas.”

It’s a mix that makes sense for her: powerhouse vocals, real storytelling, and a willingness to blend genres and energy.

Training, technique, and the YouTube coach she swears by

Twavette’s vocals sound effortless, but she’s quick to remind people that skill is built.

“Cheryl Porter on YouTube, Cheryl Porter on YouTube, Cheryl Porter on YouTube!!!!!” she says, laughing but dead serious.

She credits Porter’s warmups and lessons for helping her expand on the training she already received in college.

“One day I’ll have enough money to also do one of her in person classes.”

That’s the mindset of a real vocalist: always learning, always stretching, always sharpening the instrument.

The most personal lyric she’s written—and what it reveals

When asked about the most personal lyric she’s written, Twavette doesn’t reach back into old material. She points to something new—something raw.

“My insecurities, my mental health, my anxiety yea those things, are all ‘me’ things. My bad friend I thought the battle was a we thing.”

It’s a lyric that hits because it’s not just about sadness—it’s about realization.

“Very simply put… the next time my mind goes dark, I have no one to call to be the guiding light. Just feel around until I fall in or find my own light switch.”

That’s the kind of line that doesn’t just describe a feeling—it names it. And for listeners who live with anxiety, depression, or emotional isolation, that kind of naming can feel like being understood.

The feeling she wants listeners to leave with

Twavette isn’t chasing streams. She’s chasing connection.

“When people hear my music, I want them to feel connected—to me/my emotions—and hope they resonate within themselves.”

Then she gives one of the most vivid metaphors you’ll hear from an R&B artist:

“Similar to the Avatar trilogy when they connect to the tree of life.”

That’s exactly what her music aims to do: create a shared emotional current. A moment where the listener isn’t just hearing her story—they’re feeling their own.

A career moment that made her feel truly seen

Validation hits different when it’s earned in a room full of competitors.

“The moment where I felt the most seen as an artist was when I went and competed in Miami with Coast2Coast,” Twavette says. “I came in fifth out of 250 people.”

That’s not luck—that’s presence. That’s artistry landing in real time.

Industry lessons: getting burned and still standing

Breaking into R&B isn’t just about talent. It’s about navigating an industry where people will try you.

Twavette faced that early.

“When I first started, I got with a producer who stole the publishing from my first recorded single,” she says.

Then it got worse.

“The same man told me he would own my name.”

But Twavette’s response is pure resilience—with the kind of humor that comes from surviving it.

“Yet four years later, he still don’t own shit.”

That’s a hard-earned lesson: protect your work, protect your name, and never let someone else convince you they control your future.

The truth about motivation, mental health, and taking a break

Twavette is honest in a way that’s rare—especially in an industry that expects artists to always be “on.”

“How do you stay inspired and motivated?” she repeats, then answers plainly: “To be honest… I don’t.”

In 2025, she took a break.

“A break I didn’t really mean to take, but at the same time my mental health has been suffering.”

She also speaks candidly about age and perception in the industry.

“I personally don’t think I’m meant to carve my own lane within the industry… I’m already what the industry would consider old.”

It’s a statement that reflects a real pressure artists feel—especially women. But it also highlights something deeper: Twavette isn’t interested in pretending. She’s interested in telling the truth, even when it’s complicated.

The legacy she hopes to leave: put your feelings on paper

When Twavette talks legacy, she doesn’t talk about awards. She talks about emotional survival.

“The message or legacy I hope to leave with my music is to put your feelings on paper, no matter what they might be,” she says.

From the smallest emotion to the biggest one—she believes it all deserves space.

“There will be times where the words won’t come, however giving your feelings the space they need to flourish, be understood, and be expressed is what’s important.”

That’s not just advice. That’s a philosophy. And it’s the heartbeat of her music.

What’s next for Twavette?

Right now, Twavette isn’t making big promises.

“As of right now… 2026 holds nothing for Twavette,” she says. “Maybe a couple features, maybe pop-up performances as I’m asked.”

And the EP fans have been waiting on?

“I’ve been saying I’m gonna put out my EP way before Covid and still haven’t done it yet.”

But even in that uncertainty, one thing is clear: Twavette’s voice is still her truth, and her truth is still worth hearing.

Because whether she’s singing, sangin, writing, healing, or taking a breath—she’s the kind of artist who doesn’t just perform emotions.

She lives them. Then she puts them on paper.

Charlotte, North Carolina isn’t just a city—it’s a living, breathing mixtape. On any given night, you’ll hear the pulse of Soul, the bounce of Afro-beats, the fire of Reggaeton, and classic Hip-Hop and R&B drifting from open doors and car windows. For Mone’t Symone, Charlotte’s musical diversity wasn’t just background noise—it was the soundtrack to her coming-of-age and the foundation for her artistry. “Growing up here, I never felt boxed in,” she says. “Charlotte is a city that lets you be who you are, try new things, and blend the old with the new.”

Mone’t’s earliest musical memories are rooted in the church pews. Sunday mornings weren’t just about singing—they were about feeling. The choir taught her about dynamics and emotion: how to build a song, how to bring a congregation to its feet, and how to pour your whole self into every note. “Church taught me the power of music to move people,” she recalls. “It’s where I learned that music is more than just sound—it’s connection.”

As a teenager, Mone’t found her voice at open-mic nights across the city. These weren’t polished, glitzy showcases—they were raw, unpredictable, and sometimes intimidating. But they were also where she learned to take risks, experiment with her sound, and share her stories. “Charlotte’s indie scene is competitive, but it’s also supportive,” she says. “You have to work for respect, but once you earn it, people root for you.” Juggling two day jobs while gigging and recording at night, Mone’t learned resilience and the value of hustle—qualities that would become essential as she navigated the music industry on her own terms.

Music wasn’t just an escape for Mone’t—it was therapy. Early in her journey, she faced the devastating loss of her father. That pain, along with her experiences as a mental health and domestic violence survivors advocate, became the raw material for her songwriting. “I write about self-worth and healing because I’ve lived it,” she says. “My music is my way of turning pain into something beautiful and hopefully helping others do the same.”

At just 13, Mone’t’s talent caught the attention of industry insiders. She auditioned for Gerald Levert’s Levert Entertainment and was offered an artist development deal—a dream come true for any young singer. But her mother insisted she finish high school first. “At the time, I was crushed,” Mone’t admits. “But looking back, I’m grateful. It gave me time to grow up, to figure out who I was, and to develop at my own pace.” Instead of jumping straight into the industry, she honed her skills through school talent shows, earned a college degree, and learned the nuances of studio work. This slow-burn approach taught her patience and the importance of authenticity—values that still guide her career today.

By 13, Mone’t had access to recording equipment and was already laying down rough cuts of unreleased songs. At 16, she released her first official single, “Diamond.” If she could speak to her younger self, she’d say: “Enjoy the process. Don’t compare your voice to your idols. Trust your pen, and remember that vulnerability is your superpower.” Those early sessions were less about chasing perfection and more about learning to tell her truth—a lesson that continues to resonate in her music.

Mone’t’s musical DNA is a blend of influences from some of the most powerful women in music. Lauryn Hill taught her that hip-hop and soul could be fused with poetry and activism. “Lauryn’s storytelling cadence and her insistence on self-respect in relationships really shaped how I write,” says Mone’t. Erykah Badu’s neo-soul experimentation inspired her to blend singing with spoken word, layering airy harmonies over heavy basslines. India Arie’s emphasis on acoustic instrumentation and affirmations encouraged Mone’t to write lyrics that celebrate self-love and women’s empowerment. “These women showed me that you can be vulnerable and strong at the same time,” she says.

“Reserve Lane” wasn’t just another single—it was a turning point. Written after heartbreak and deep self-reflection, the song is about choosing your own lane and refusing to let anyone else define your worth. “I wrote it after ending a relationship and realizing I needed to reserve space for myself—to heal, set boundaries, and rediscover who I was,” Mone’t explains. The track is both a confession and an anthem: “There’s pain, but there’s also freedom in reclaiming yourself.” She hopes listeners feel validated in stepping away from unhealthy situations and empowered to celebrate their own healing.

“Hennessy” is a masterclass in visual metaphor. The “Your Beat My Movie Award”–winning music video finds Mone’t at a dimly lit bar, pouring shots that symbolize emotional baggage. Scenes flash between her present-day independence and memories of a toxic relationship. In the final shot, she leaves the bottle on the bar and walks out—a powerful image of letting go and choosing healing over numbing pain. “The visuals make the song’s metaphor literal,” Mone’t says. “It’s about how easy it is to get lost in pain, but also how powerful it is to choose yourself.”

For those new to her music, Mone’t recommends starting with “Hennessy” or “Reserve Lane.” “Hennessy” introduces listeners to her smoky, confessional style, while “Reserve Lane” showcases her growth as a songwriter and her ability to turn personal healing into universal anthems. Earlier tracks like “Diamond” and “Addicted” are rooted in classic R&B, while “Move On” (featuring Ajaeze) infuses Afro-fusion energy. “Dirty Dog” (2025) is playful and bold, calling out infidelity over an upbeat groove. “My catalog is like chapters in a diary,” she says. “Each song tells a part of my story.”

Working with Nigerian artist Ajaeze on “Move On” was a standout moment. “We both believe in telling the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable,” Mone’t says. The collaboration was built on mutual respect, laughter, and honest conversations about the meaning behind each lyric. “When there’s real chemistry in the studio, the music just comes alive.”

Music has always been Mone’t’s anchor. She wrote “Reserve Lane” during a period of grief, finding solace in India Arie’s “I Am Light.” “That song reminded me I wasn’t defined by my grief,” she says. Writing her own songs became a form of journaling—a way to process pain and transform it into art. “I hope my music helps others heal the way it helped me.”

Inspired by Beyoncé and Summer Walker, Mone’t strives to be honest about heartache while protecting her peace. “I’ll share my emotions, but I won’t name names or share details that could hurt people I care about,” she says. For her, vulnerability and strength aren’t opposites—they’re two sides of the same coin. “There’s power in admitting you’re hurt, but even more power in choosing to heal.”

Awards and nominations have been both validation and motivation for Mone’t. Winning Best New Artist at the Queen City Awards, Best Solo Performer at Queen City Nerve’s Best in the Nest, and R&B Artist of the Year at the 704 Culture Hip-Hop Awards made her feel seen by her hometown. “These honors gave me the confidence to experiment with new sounds and invest more in my visuals,” she says.

A Mone’t Symone live show is more than just music—it’s an experience. She engages the crowd with call-and-response, shares the stories behind her songs, and isn’t afraid to hit raw, unfiltered notes. “I want people to leave feeling like they saw a piece of their own story in mine,” she says. “If you laugh, cry, or dance, I’ve done my job.”

If her career ended tomorrow, Mone’t would want to be remembered for one thing: “That my music was about loving yourself enough to heal.” Her catalog is a testament to the idea that pain doesn’t have to harden you—it can be the soil for something beautiful.

Looking ahead, Mone’t’s upcoming releases will showcase a more mature, self-assured artist. While the “Hennessy” and “Diamond” era leaned into classic R&B and vulnerability, the next chapter will experiment with neo-soul, Afro-beats, and even jazz. “Dirty Dog” is playful and bold, but new singles will blend that sass with the introspection of “Reserve Lane,” proving she’s not afraid to take risks while staying true to her message.

Mone’t hopes her journey inspires young girls in Charlotte and beyond to believe that you can choose both education and art. “Turning down a big opportunity at 13 didn’t end my dream—it let me grow into it on my own terms,” she says. Her story is one of resilience, authenticity, and commitment to healing. “I want the next generation to know: your timeline is your own, and staying true to yourself is always worth it.”

Discover more and connect with Mone’t Symone: https://linktr.ee/monet.symone

SheIsTrinity is exactly what her name suggests: a multifaceted, evolving woman who refuses to be boxed in. She’s layered—artist, therapist, leader, dreamer—and she’s always in a state of becoming. “I don’t pretend to have it all figured out,” she says. “I’m growing in real-time, learning myself in real-time, and I’ve chosen to own every part of that journey instead of hiding it.”For Trinity, life has been a series of chapters marked by adversity, confusion, reinvention, and constant reflection. But nothing has stopped her from moving forward. “Some people have met different versions of me, and honestly, that’s because I’m always unfolding,” she explains. “SheIsTrinity is a woman with depth, resilience, and a story still being written—and I hold the pen.”Her openness about this ongoing evolution is what makes Trinity so relatable. She doesn’t claim perfection; instead, she invites others to witness her journey as it happens. “I want people to know it’s okay to not have every answer. I’m proof that you can be a work in progress and still be worthy of love, opportunity, and celebration.”

Trinity’s journey is not about a single breakthrough or one big moment. It’s about embracing every chapter—no matter how messy or uncertain. She’s faced loss, disappointment, and the pressure to have it all together, yet she’s learned to honor her process. “I’ve had to reinvent myself so many times. Sometimes you outgrow places, people, or even versions of yourself. That’s not failure; that’s growth.”

For much of her life, Trinity felt the pressure to fit into boxes—especially as a Black woman navigating spaces that weren’t always built for her. “People will try to humble you whenever they can. We have to fight to be seen and beg to be celebrated,” she shares. In college, her ambition and self-belief sometimes made others uncomfortable. “You have to believe in yourself so much that people think you are delusional,” she laughs, “because that’s what it takes.”Being every woman—confident, talented, outspoken—can intimidate people. Trinity knows this firsthand. “I will not be convinced to make myself small for anyone, and I encourage other Black women to do the same because we are the backbone, leaders, and don’t have to accept any less.”She’s keenly aware of the double standards and expectations placed on Black women to shrink themselves, to be less visible, less vocal, less ambitious. “We’re told to be grateful for crumbs, to dim our light, to apologize for being extraordinary. But I refuse. I want young women to see that you can be all of who you are, take up space, and still be soft, loving, and powerful.”

Trinity’s belief in herself isn’t just confidence—it’s survival. “There were times when I was the only one who believed in my dreams. You have to be your own hype woman. You have to pour into yourself when the world is silent. That’s how you keep going.”

Growing up in Dorchester County, Maryland, wasn’t easy. “The odds were stacked against a lot of us,” Trinity recalls. She’s reminded of Robert Frost’s famous line: 'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.'Trinity saw firsthand how two people from the same environment could end up on completely different paths. “I remember seeing an acquaintance, one of my peers; we were in the exact same place, dealing with the same environment, and I went on to college, earned two degrees, and built a career as a healer. He later went to jail for life for shooting another one of our classmates. Same starting point, completely different roads.”Dorchester County shaped her by making her resilient, giving her clarity about what she wanted, and teaching her compassion for people’s pasts. “As an artist, it pushed me towards telling real stories. Where I come from, music and the arts were our outlet, our escape, and our way to make something meaningful out of what we didn’t have.”

Her upbringing wasn’t just about overcoming hardship. It gave her a deep sense of empathy and a commitment to using her voice for something bigger. “I want my music to reflect real life—the joy, the pain, the hope, and the grit it takes to keep going.”Trinity’s story is also about gratitude. “I’m grateful for where I come from, even the hard parts. It taught me resilience, compassion, and how to dream beyond my circumstances.”

SheIsTrinity’s story is still unfolding. She’s a woman who has learned to embrace every version of herself, no matter how the world tries to define her. Her journey from Dorchester County to the stage, from student to therapist, from gospel roots to R&B innovation, is proof that you can write your own story—and that every layer matters.“Being SheIsTrinity means I get to be all of me. I don’t have to choose. And I hope my story inspires others to believe that they don’t have to choose either.”

As she continues to create, inspire, and heal, Trinity’s legacy is already taking shape. “I want people—especially young Black women—to know that their story is valuable. You don’t have to fit into anyone’s mold. You can be a masterpiece and a work in progress at the same time.”

Some people spend a lifetime searching for their calling. For me, it happened before I could even spell “entertainer.” My earliest memory of performing goes all the way back to kindergarten. I was just a little girl, singing my heart out in class, when my teacher’s jaw practically hit the floor. She was so flabbergasted by my voice that she whisked me from classroom to classroom, and even marched me into the principal’s office, just so I could sing for everyone. That day, something clicked. I realized I could really sing—and more than that, I realized my voice could move people. That spark of joy and surprise from my teachers and classmates lit a fire in me that’s never gone out.

As I grew, so did my passion for music. I knew if I wanted to turn my gift into a lifelong career, I needed to learn from the best. Enter the Duke Ellington School for the Performing Arts—a place that would shape me as both a singer and a performer. At Duke Ellington, I learned the nuts and bolts of professional singing: how to breathe properly, train my ear, sing from my diaphragm, and open my throat to let my true voice shine. They taught me how to stand and sit while singing, how to read music, and everything else you can imagine to take you along your merry way as an artist. To this day, vocal exercises and warm-ups are my secret weapon. I swear by them—they keep my voice strong, flexible, and ready to tackle any stage.

High school was a time of discovery, and I found myself gravitating toward powerhouse vocalists—artists like Stephanie Mills, Natalie Cole, Aretha Franklin, and Angela Bofill. These women weren’t just singers; they were storytellers, performers, and icons. Their voices left a lasting impact on me, shaping my own approach to music and performance. I’d spend hours listening to their records, soaking up every run, every note, every emotion. Their influence is woven into the fabric of my sound, and I carry their lessons with me to this day.

If I had to pick genres that truly speak to my soul, it would be jazz and R&B. There’s something about these styles that lets me express my emotions in the most authentic way. When I sing jazz or R&B, I feel like I’m having a conversation with my audience—sharing my heart, my story, and my truth. The connection I feel with the crowd is electric. There’s nothing like finishing a song and seeing people still standing, applauding, and looking at me as if to say, “What’s next?” Or when I hold the mic out and the audience sings the lyrics right back to me. That’s when I know I’ve done my job—when the music becomes a shared experience.

People often ask how I keep my performances fresh and exciting after all these years. The truth is, I look forward to seeing my audience every single time. Their energy, their smiles, their excitement—it’s contagious. It makes me happy, and that happiness fuels my performance. I come to every show ready to give it up, to leave everything I have on that stage. I believe that when you love what you do, the audience can feel it. And that’s what keeps them coming back for more.

If I could collaborate with any artist, hands down, it would be Gladys Knight. I can already picture us belting out a soulful ballad together—something that tugs at the heartstrings and brings the house down. And when it comes to getting the crowd moving, “Somebody Else’s Guy” never fails. That song has a groove and energy that just gets people on their feet every time.

For the young artists coming up, here’s my advice: rehearse all the time. There’s no substitute for practice. Watch the big-time artists on TV—not just for their voices, but for their stage presence, their confidence, the way they command a room. Take care of your health and watch your diet, because your body is your instrument. Before every show, I like to meditate and get a feel for the crowd I’m about to perform for. It centers me, helps me connect, and lets me deliver my best performance.

I’ve been blessed with some incredible moments in my career, but a few stand out above the rest. One night, I was performing at a club, pouring my heart into every note, completely unaware that a journalist and photographer from The Washington Post were in the crowd. The next morning, I woke up to find a huge picture of myself on the front page of the newspaper! It was surreal, and a moment of pure pride. Another unforgettable experience was performing at The Kennedy Center for United States Veterans. As an Army brat—my dad was an Army Retired Major—it meant the world to me to honor our veterans through music. Those moments remind me why I do what I do.

If you asked me years ago where I saw myself today, I probably would’ve said I’d be on an even bigger stage. But you know what? Music is my passion, and it keeps me going no matter what. I may not be exactly where I thought I’d be, but I wouldn’t trade this journey for anything. I will never give up, because performing is what I love, and it’s who I am.

At the end of the day, after the lights go down and the crowd heads home, I just want people to leave with a great memory—something that sticks with them, something to talk about. I want them to say, “That girl did dat!” LOL. That’s the magic of music: it brings people together, creates moments that last, and gives us all something to smile about.