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Ahead of the 2023 BottleRock festival in California's Napa Valley, held May 26-28, preview some of the notable up-and-coming acts who will hit the festival's four stages.

Roughly 120,000 people will head to California's wine country May 26-28 for the 10th BottleRock festival, which serves up music, food and libations at the Napa Valley Expo. BottleRock leans in on the food and beverage experience: on social media they refer to themselves as "a food festival with music playing in the background."

On the festival's culinary stage, headline musical acts join celebrity chefs and personalities for cooking demonstrations: at past festivals, Martha Stewart has chopped vegetables alongside Seattle rapper Macklemore, and Snoop Dogg has rolled sushi with Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto. More than a dozen wineries participate, as well as breweries and distilleries. The festival also features a silent disco, spa, pop-up live music jam sessions and art installations.

But beverages, food, art, and massages are not the headline act: Spread across four music stages, more than 20 musical artists perform each day. Post Malone and Smashing Pumpkins headline on Friday, Lizzo and Duran Duran on Saturday, and Red Hot Chili Peppers and Lil Nas X headline Sunday. Well-known marquee acts will play early-evening sets: Billy Strings and Bastille on Friday, Leon Bridges and Japanese Breakfast on Saturday, Wu-Tang Clan and the National on Sunday.

A handful of festival acts will also feature at BottleRock Presents "after show" performances at venues in Napa, San Francisco and around the Bay Area May 23-28. Some of these after-show performances are sold out, but tickets are still available for Cautious Clay, Lucius, the Wrecks and several other acts. At the time of writing, three-day festival tickets are sold out but individual day tickets are still available.

In addition to the many big-name acts on the bill, noteworthy artists further down the roster will be performing from about noon onward. Representing pop, punk, blues, hip-hop, indie rock and more, the following 10 rising artists stand out for their originality, style, and approach.

Oakland, California-born, Napa-raised Matthew Osivwemu raps under the name Oke Junior. He made music throughout middle school and high school: his song "Elmhurst" is a reference to Elmhurst Middle School in Oakland.

An older brother mentored Osivwemu , encouraging his early musical pursuits and making sure he was a student of the rap game. "The first time I rapped for him, I thought I was raw. He broke it down straight up and said ‘Man, that ain't it. If you’re gonna rap, you gotta make sure it has meaning…don't be out here just saying anything," Osivwemu said during a "Sway in the Morning" interview last year.

In 2017, Oakland hyphy rapper Mistah F.A.B. spotted Osivwemu at open mic nights in Sacramento, and took the young rapper under his wing. In 2016, Oke Junior tweeted that he wished he could have performed at BottleRock, and then joined Too Short onstage in 2019. He’ll perform at 1 p.m. on the Truly Stage on Sunday.

Erik Alejandro Iglesias Rodríguez, a.k.a. Cimafunk, is a Cuban singer who performs funky Afro-Cuban music with a nine-piece band with an energetic intensity that has drawn comparisons to James Brown.

For his 2021 album El Alimento he collaborated with Lupe Fiasco, CeeLo Green, and funk legend George Clinton, an experience he said was like "talking to a friend." The album was nominated for a GRAMMY Award for Best Latin Rock or Alternative Album at the 2023 GRAMMY Awards.

Rodríguez grew up in a tight-knit community in Western Cuba, surrounded by music: Mexican music, Christian music, and salsa, mixed with African rhythms. "We had a big family. We were always dancing in the house and every Sunday, we were dancing– salsa and other types," Rodríguez told GRAMMY.com. "Everybody loved music and we all listened to music the whole day. In any house, at some point, many types of music would be playing — Mexican music, reggaetón, Lionel Richie, or Michael Jackson, that was my fave."

Cimafunk performs at 4:15 p.m. Sunday on the Allianz stage.

Ponder, a former public defender from Rochester, New York, is also a powerful R&B/soul singer who has performed on late-night talk shows and at festivals like Bonnaroo and Lollapalooza. Ponder was serious about her legal work, but was also making music on the side for several years She made the jump full-time to music after she turned 40.

Released in 2022, Ponder's debut album Some of Us are Brave is filled with upbeat, spiritual bangers and chilled-out confessionals. The music often pulls way back, allowing Ponder the quiet space to convey to listeners that she feels their pain and their joy, and she wants to uplift them. The album's title track is a timely anthem for social justice: "all we want is to be ourselves … we don't want problems," she sings.

"We did an album and everything through law school. I just always felt like I didn't want to be struggling. I had this fear of financial instability, and so I just was like, I can't do music full time. But eventually it just pulled me," she told NPR.

Ponder performs at 1:45 p.m. Saturday on the Jam Cellars stage.

This Pennsylvania hip-hop duo, with their cocky, high energy Beastie Boys vibes and pop culture references to topics like Star Wars and fresh produce bring a heavy dose of prankster, '90s hip-hop style — but from a humorous, adolescent Gen Z perspective. Scroll to the bottom of their Spotify page and you’ll see this: "Who tf reads Spotify bios."

The rapper-producers — real names Joey Bertolino and Braedan Lugue — are longtime fans of early rap innovators like Biz Markie, Eric B. & Rakim and the Beastie Boys, but also EDM. They met at Penn State University and both credit their fathers with being big musical inspirations. The duo make most of their music in Valance's bedroom. "He comes over and we just mess around until something fun comes out of it what we f—ing love," Valence told Ones To Watch.

After gaining traction on TikTok, the duo performed their song "Double Jump" on the "Ellen DeGeneres Show" and won a $10,000 talent show grand prize. They now have more than 850,000 followers on TikTok.

Joey Valance & Brae perform at 7:15 p.m. Sunday on the Truly Stage.

The Sweden-born singer has an enviable breakout story In March 2020, during the early pandemic lockdown, Latour — who was a student at Columbia University — posted a video of herself singing "One More Weekend," an upbeat tune about college heartbreak, to TikTok, where it has since been viewed more than 455,000 times. A year later, Latour was applying to summer jobs when record labels approached her and she signed with Warner Records. Last summer, she performed at Lollapalooza on the same day as Metallica.

A child of journalists, Latour studied philosophy in college, and her songs explore a range of emotions tied to relationships, death, messy bedrooms, and existentialism.

"I feel connected to this overpowering awareness of my mortality. It is what makes life beautiful. This is my ‘thank you’ to existence," she told Billboard.

Maude Latour performs at 2:45 p.m. Saturday on the Allianz Stage.

Growing up in Oahu, Thunderstorm Kahekhili Artis played in a family band with his dad, Ron Artis, an artist and Motown session musician who, played with artists such as Michael Jackson, Van Halen and Stevie Wonder.

After touring with his older brother Ron Artis II, Thunderstorm was invited to perform at the wedding of Crazy Rich Asians director Jon M. Chu, and was a finalist in the 2020 Spring season of "The Voice," where he performed renditions of "Blackbird" by the Beatles and songs from artists like Louis Armstrong.

Thunderstorm has gone on to perform his blendings of folk, rock, soul and country music alongside artists like Jack Johnson and Booker T. He's been known to play renditions of songs from artists such as David Bowie, Leonard Cohen and Elton John.

Thunderstorm Artis performs at 12:15 p.m. Sunday on the Verizon stage.

The 21-year-old from Miami dropped out of Berklee College of Music in 2021 to pursue music full time. She combines guitar, piano, and saxophone with electronic beats to make moody dream pop.

Valentine has said that she loves to watch videos of her favorite artists before she takes the stage, listing a who's who of famous rock stars that inspire her: "Thom Yorke of Radiohead. Mitski. I used to love Kanye — not so much anymore. James Blake. Axl Rose is very theatrical. Fiona Apple is cool and very scary."

Valentine released Tonight I Don't Exist, a seven-song EP of bedroom pop, last year, and more recently released a video for the song "Next Life" from that EP.

Ayleen Valentine performs at 12:30 p.m. Friday on the Jam Cellars Stage.

The head-bobbing, dancing crowd and flashy, bright lights of a Meute show look almost exactly like any average club scene, but instead of a DJ and turntables and laptops, crowds see 11 people wearing marching band uniforms and holding brass instruments.

Like most brass bands, the 11-piece German brass collective Meute offers up lush harmonies and expressive horn solos backed by marching band percussion. But Meute is a "techno marching band," that aims to create a high-energy, hypnotic club vibe with marching band instruments. Meute founder and trumpet player Thomas Burhorn loved the ecstasy and intensity of going to raves, but thought it would be more interesting and exciting if there was a live band onstage instead of a DJ.

"We do interpretations…It's a nice part of art, and a nice part of the history of music… when you can give the composition something new, when you can see it from another point of view, it's a beautiful thing," Meute founder and trumpet player Thomas Burhorn told Variety.

The group toured 18 cities across North America last summer and performed at Goldenvoice's Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival.

Meute performs at 8:45 p.m. Saturday on the Allianz stage.

The members of The Alive are teenagers from Southern California, but they make music that sounds like a collage of '90s and early 2000s alternative rock.

"We’d grow up going surfing and skating. In the car, our parents would start playing music," singer and guitarist Bastian Evans told an interviewer. "I didn't pay attention the first four or five years I was alive – but after a while, I started really listening to what was playing, and got a connection to some of the bands, especially Queens of the Stone Age. My dad would play it all the time in the morning, especially on the way to school."

The Alive have performed at Lollapalooza Chile and Ohana Fest, and opened up the main stage at BottleRock in 2021 and played an after-party show with fellow Laguna Beach musician Taylor Hawkins and his former side band Chevy Metal.

The Alive was named one of Stab Magazine's "30 Under 30 Culture Shifters of Tomorrow" and has performed benefit concerts for the Surfrider Foundation, Surfers Against Sewage in England, Sustainable Coastlines Hawaii, and Save The Waves.

The Alive perform at 12:30 p.m. Sunday on the Jam Cellars Stage.

When 24-year-old Christone "Kingfish" Ingram won the Best Contemporary Blues Album award at the 2022 GRAMMYs, he told the crowd, "For years I had to sit and watch the myth that young Black kids are not into the blues, and I just hope I can show the world something different."

His debut album, Kingfish, produced by Tom Hambridge, was released on Alligator Records in 2019, and earned him a nomination for Best Traditional Blues Album at the 62nd annual GRAMMY Awards.

Ingram grew up in Clarksdale, Mississippi, playing drums, bass, and guitar. He studied music at the Delta Blues Museum under Bill "Howl-N- Mad" Perry and Richard "Daddy Rich" Crisman, and was playing gigs around town by seventh grade.

In 2014, he performed for Michelle Obama at the White House with the Delta Blues Museum band. Ingram joins a long legacy of artists to emerge from Clarksdale: John Lee Hooker, Ike Turner, Sam Cooke, Muddy Waters are just a few.

Christone "Kingfish" Ingram performs at 5:45 p.m, Sunday on the Allianz Stage.

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Photo: Jacob Shije

interview

"I don't want to be in some crazy-a— limelight. I don't want to be a superstar," the guitar scorcher tells GRAMMY.com. But limelight or not, Levi Platero's illuminating a path forward for blues-rock in Indigenous communities.

Back in 2022, Levi Platero spoke to GRAMMY.com about his then-new album, Dying Breed. Two days later, a city bus slammed into his touring van.

The Arizonan blues-rock guitarist, who hails from the Eastern Agency of the Navajo Nation, was on a West Coast tour. After lunch in downtown Portland, kaboom: their van was totaled. When hearing about this close call, something poignant Platero had said came to mind.

"I just want to be able to keep going, man. Especially with blues music, you can kind of play forever," he expressed near the end of the interview. "Not to put down any other musical genres, but I can't see myself being a rap artist at, like, 60 or 70 years old. I can see myself being a blues-rock guy until the day I die."

Looking decades into the future, it's hard not to imagine Platero and his music being buoyed by the community he helped create.

An absolute burner on his instrument — behold Dying Breed highlights like "Fire Water Whiskey" and "Red Wild Woman" as examples — he stands with few others as a blues-rock great in the Navajo Nation. Or just one, in his estimation: Mato Nanji of the band Indigenous, who he affectionately calls "Big Brother."

Perhaps Platero — who's eyeing a new van, and getting ready to head back into the studio in late spring — will also inspire others in his wake. And the more he sings and plays, the more likely that outcome seems — that his "dying breed" will flourish forever.

Read on for an in-depth interview with Platero about his latest album, how Indigenousness inspires his artistry, and why he "doesn't want to be a superstar — I just love to play."

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Tell me about your background, and the musical community that brought you up.

I grew up in church. My dad was an evangelist. He went out, did things for the church and that kind of community. I would sometimes tag along, but I was getting involved with some of the worship leading and stuff like that. But my dad would write his own tunes, and he would make his own music later on. And I would go out and help him just play drums. I was just in the background area.

Later on, I started playing guitar, and listening to a lot of old gospel tunes and gospel hymns. That's where I got introduced to the blues. And after I learned about the blues, from then on, that's all I ever really listened to.

Now, a lot of things have changed. I'm out in the world doing my own thing and writing my own music about some things that I feel — not necessarily anything that has to do with the church community. But, that's where I got started.

What's your conception of the blues? To me, it's kind of like the word punk. It can be a certain way of playing power chords, or an entire state of being — an opposition to the status quo. Likewise, the blues can mean 12 bars, or the totality of human angst.

I think it's probably the rawest form of musical emotion that I can feel — that I've ever really felt for myself. But that's only my own opinion. That's my perception of it. I always hear a lot of people say that it's a little redundant, and it's kind of boring and whatnot. But for me, it's something that's just really raw, emotional, really straightforward.

And as far as the lifestyle, I mean, I would have to say that being a part of a blues community, I'm really [grounded among] people who are really respectful.

And the people who are respected the most are the people who generally [may] not have the most talent, but collectively, they're a great person — they have a great personality. They really enjoy one another's music, and they're really involved in the blues community where they help each other out, or they get each other's gigs, they sit in.

It's just this really friendly dynamic in that area. Rather enjoyable. I love it.

Living or dead, whether you know them or not, who are the guitarists that formed you?

I have to say my biggest influence was Mato Nanji from Indigenous. They were a Native American blues-rock group back in the day, probably in the early 2000s. They made a really good name for themselves in the blues circuit, and I [had] the opportunity to actually travel and open up for him and also join his band.

I really learned a lot from kind of hanging out with him and just being a part of his group. He's one of my biggest guitar influences and as a person — as a role model.

Otherwise — people who I have not met — I have to say, of course, Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughan. David Gilmour was a good influence. Doyle Bramhall II — little Doyle, big Doyle.

And then as far as in my community, back in Albuquerque, Darin Goldston — he plays for the Memphis P-Tails. He hosts the blues jam every Wednesday night. Whoever is upcoming and just wants to play some blues, they come out and jam. It's pretty awesome.

And, of course, Ryan McGarvey. If you don't know who that is, he's in the blues-rock circuit. He's a great guy — a pretty influential person.

With all those inspirations on the table, how did you start to develop your own voice on the guitar?

Just being well-seasoned, I guess. Just constantly playing over time. For some people, it doesn't happen right away, to find their own sound. With other people, they have to go through seasons and learn new things, until one day, they really become identifiable just by the first couple of notes they play.

I don't think it was a hard thing for me. I was just playing until it started becoming identifiable to some people's ears.

I'm sure specifically Indigenous influences must make it into your sound in some way.

Yeah, of course. I mean, those drum patterns, those drum beats — they're really similar to all that chain gang stuff they used to do back in the day. Those call-and-repeats and stuff like that.

Sometimes I try to incorporate that into some of the music I have. Indigenous influences are there, as far as jewelry and hats. Even as far as a little bit of graphic design. That stuff definitely makes its way into the fashion part, and the promotion.

Tell me what you were trying to artistically impart with Dying Breed.

I just wanted to put out an album, because I need to. I love writing my own music, and of course, the ultimate goal is to make music that inspires and reaches people — and also inspires Indigenous artists and people at reservations to go after whatever they want to go after.

Because it's like: yeah, there's education on the rez, but as far as outlets — fashion, music, art, film — some of those things don't make it as far as the reservation.

So, just being an Indigenous artist in itself — to be able to write and put out music like that, for others to hear — I guess that's kind of the ultimate accomplishment in what I'm trying to do. Just to keep inspiring people — inspiring my own people, natives all across the U.S.

Can you talk about your collaborators on Dying Breed?

That's actually kind of funny, because I'm doing most of the work on the album.

I did all the guitars. I did all the bass guitars. I did the lead vocals. My cousin [Royce Platero] did the drums. I only had my rhythm player [Jacob Shije] play on, like, two tracks, and he was only doing small-fill guitars and that's it. I had a good friend of mine named Tony Orant come in and play keys on two of the songs as well.

As far as all the songs go, I wrote all of them. I composed everything. I came up with the arrangements and the core progressions. I mean, it's all mine.

One of my favorite people and producers right now, a sound engineer who helped me with the album: his name is Ken Riley and he's based out of Albuquerque. He has a really beautiful and awesome old adobe recording studio, right by the Rio Grande. It's called Rio Grande Studios. He's kind of a legend. He's worked with so many artists and still works with big-name, major artists.

I think he recently just worked on Micki Free's album. He worked on a couple of songs with Santana and Gary Clark Jr. Christone ["Kingfish"] Ingram. He works with some heavy hitters, and I approached him. I was introduced to him by a friend of mine named Felix Peralta. He told me to meet this guy and said, "You need to do your next record here."

So, we finally got to meet, me and Ken, and it just kind of went from there and everything came out really good. I really enjoy this record. It's probably my favorite one that I've done so far.

Levi Platero. Photo: Jacob Shije

Are there any other Indigenous musicians in the blues and/or Americana world that you want to shout out in this interview?

Foremost, as far as blues guitarists: I have to give a shout-out to my — I call him Big Brother. Mato Nanji, and that means "standing bear." He's a big role model, and probably the only other Indigenous blues-rock guitarist out there besides me who is trying to do it.

Anything else you want to mention before we get out of here?

No, I just want to keep playing. I just want to keep doing this — meet more people, keep expanding. I don't want to be in some crazy-a— limelight. I don't want to be a superstar. I just love to play. I just want people to enjoy my music and come vibe at the shows. That's it.

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Photo: Raúl González

interview

Cimafunk's music isn't just about having a good time; the Cuban artist wants to encourage listeners to enjoy themselves as people. His second album, 'El Alimento,' is up for a GRAMMY Award for Best Latin Rock Or Alternative Album.

Havana's signature sounds are next to impossible to ignore; reggaetón, Santeria drums and timba music pump through the city's major cultural spaces and punctuate its seams. Together, all of these sounds create a symphony in the streets of a global musical mecca.

Circa 2019, Cimfunk's breakout hit "Me Voy" was at the center of this symphony — booming from the windows of vintage cars and into the streets from balconies, and streaming from cell phones attempting to catch a shaky internet connection in a park. The song was seemingly everywhere, ​​commanding attention with its loud, look at me tone and funky rhythm.

Fast forward to present and Cimafunk has exploded on a global scale. The 33-year-old first time GRAMMY nominee is now a trailblazing creator whose music unites Afro-Cuban rhythms and African American funk. His second album, 2021's El Alimento, is nominated for Best Latin Rock Or Alternative Album at the 2023 GRAMMYs alongside Rosalía, Tinta y Tiempo, Jorge Drexler, Gaby Moreno and Fito Paez.

Sonically, El Alimento is a simultaneous pull back and forward in time. Cimafunk's fresh take on funk mixed with classic cha cha, Afrobeats, rap, rock and more, all oscillate from marginal to central sounds throughout the album. In doing so, he not only criss-crosses varying genres, but creates his own way of being in his music.

Cimafunk captures Cuba's playful cadence on "Te Quema La Bemba," where fast street slang laced with rap beats transitions into a grounding, elegant mashup with cha cha undertones. "Salvaje" — a linkup with Latin jazz master Chucho Valdes and Stax Records session player Lester Snell — follows this lead, as Cimafunk drops into slower ballads with deeper, denser vocals, adding a sense of gravity to the song and his style at large. "Rompelo," another notable track with Lupe Fiasco, stands out for its stellar rap groove.

Cimafunk collaborated with funk godfather George Clinton on El Alimento's "Funk Aspirin" — an explosive, explicitly funk tune that's also synchronistic with Cuba's vibrant tropical tones. "Cimafunk is the one, the next one," Clinton tells GRAMMY.com. "He takes it back while keeping it in the now. It's like what we do, always reinventing the funk to keep it fresh."

Cimafunk's music is as much informed by Afrocuban rhythms and African American funk as it is Havana's vibrant live music culture and strong communal ties. With his nine piece band — who consist mostly of musicians from Cuba's most reputable music schools — Cimafunk's live shows feel more like full body funk therapy than solely sonic journeys.

In an interview in English with snippets of Spanish, Cimafunk outlined his roots and rise to success as a funkadelic force to be reckoned with. Often responding to interview questions through breaking out in melody and movement to express his thoughts and experiences, he exhibits his signature high energy funk flavor not only in his music, but his entire way of being.

You gained ground as an artist playing live shows first in Havana and then in the U.S. and internationally. Is there anything about the live music scene in Havana that you think plays out in your own presentation?

Yes, of course. Everything about the live music scene in Havana inspired me. At one point, some friends and I united a band, and we were in Havana and traveling. We started to see the bands in the capital and I fell in love with that.

I also understood how to develop the live show in Cuba because there you got a crowd that knows a lot of cultural music inside and out; they know exactly where and how you are playing. We listened to excellent musicians as kids, [and] we are born listening to music not only on the radio, but on the street, etc. So when you play [there], you really gotta do it right; you gotta understand what the people need and what they don't. At the same time, the only real thing you're gonna give to the people is being yourself and enjoying yourself.

I learned from everyone there [in Havana], especially through the live shows. My main "school" was working in live performance there. At one point I realized the live show is my domain, that the live show was "the weapon." That realization was a moment of consciousness, about how I can develop myself.

Did you grow up in a musical environment? What was your home environment like?

I always had a connection with music as a kid. I sang in a choir at a Baptist church, where my whole family was going. After high school, I was living at a school and singing at all the parties.

I started singing reggaetón, [which was just starting to get off the ground then in Cuba] because it was "the scene" for the girls.

I also grew up with a lot of music in my home. Even as a kid living in the forest without internet or CDaccess, I was listening to Stevie Wonder and Madonna, because my uncle had a car and a cassette player in the car. My mom taught English so she loved this music too.

We had a big family. We were always dancing in the house and every Sunday, we were dancing– salsa and other types. Everybody loved music and we all listened to music the whole day. In any house, at some point, many types of music would be playing — Mexican music, reggaetón, Lionel Richie, or Michael Jackson, that was my fave. Also, Los van van, and all traditional and popular bands from Cuba like Charanga Habanera. We had a lot of variety of music around because we were a lot of people.

You refer to your band as "La Tribu," (the tribe). Can you tell me more about your relationship with them and why you call them a "tribe?"

We have nine people and everybody is a special character. The band members are all really good musicians. We are like family; we spend more time together than our own blood family. We’ve developed healthy relationships. We party all the time. We are always joking, just having fun and feeling good, and spreading this happiness. We have that special vibe. The audience feels that and the live show is really good for that reason. The groove tells you the truth!

You just finished your second tour showcasing your second album, El Alimento. What is different about this album compared to your first album, 2017's Terapia?

There are similarities in my philosophy, which is love your body and your way to be. Love yourself, enjoy yourself, and party with that — your flesh and your soul. I think the difference is the quality. I made a really good team with the producer in the second album, Jack Splash. But the two albums are both special; one is not better than the other.

El Alimento is nominated for a GRAMMY Award for Best Latin Rock Or Alternative Album; how do you see yourself and your music reflected in this category?

When you make an album, you say "this is gonna be rock or salsa." But for me, it's difficult because this album has everything inside.

When you hear "Funk Aspirin" for instance, it's like an acid, it's heavy, you can feel the rock and roll there.

Have you always thought of your music defined as "alternative"?

I remember some friends asked about this a long time ago-in 2019 or '18. And I said, originally I didn't want it to be "alternative," but at the end it is.

I’m not 100 percent into the concept of [being defined as] a musical style. Everybody got their own vibe and different way to talk about the groove and I’m doing it my way. My way is alternative too. I’m always trying to mix sound and the groove.

Are there any significant experiences that stick out to you that helped you get yourself off the ground as an artist in Cuba?

At first, I was studying medicine… I had always grown up with this mindset that I had to be a good professional, everyone in my family had that kind of mentality.

But I had traveled to Havana and experienced the live music scene there. The environment there was super active — lots of music, a little bit of a hippie vibe, combined with, like, a rap groove. Everyone was super friendly.

I went back to my hometown [in Pinar Del Rio], and I was sitting there listening to my professor in the hospital, and I was like my mind is not here in this place.

So at some point, I moved to Havana to pursue music. I was alone for two years playing music, but also doing other jobs — painting cars, cleaning and doing whatever to get money. I was living with friends and family to pay for basic stuff. But after two years I woke up and was like I’m tired of this, I gotta find a solution because I can't keep waiting. That's what I tell kids now — don't wait until someone comes to you, or for some label. Don't wait for anybody. Just do your thing. Nobody is going to come for you if you don't know how to find your own way.

Were there any specific musicians in Havana that mentored or guided you during this time?

[When I was in Havana] I figured out where the house of this big musician, Raul Paz, was, who is from my hometown. I was like if I’m gonna ask for help, I’m gonna ask for someone from my home town.

So I went up and said "I’m from your hometown," and he said, "I’m having lunch with the family, come back in 15 minutes." When I returned he was still eating with the family. But he said come to the studio in the back of his house. I played a few of my songs for him on the guitar. He said, "you got good songs bro. One of these songs I can put on an album." And I said "I’m not interested in that 100 percent; I’m most interested in work. I need money like now, ASAP."

So he said he needed someone for a big show at one of the biggest theaters in Cuba, the Karl Marx Theatre. He told me we have two weeks of rehearsal with some other musicians.The show was all Black people. Everyone was in suits, and dressed super elegant, but I had no clothes. I was wearing like broken jeans my sister had given me that were super tight. I had big white glasses and white shoes. It all looked like Latin pimp clothes. [Laughs.]

Anyway, they put that show on live TV for the whole country, so in that moment everyone saw me. The public kept me in their mind because I was dressed differently with a funky vibe. After that opportunity, everything started to happen. [Raul] took me under his wing. Even now, I keep doing what I did with him — I try to find a direct contact. I’m like this is who I am, if you like it, lets connect.

How did funk music in Cuba influence you? What did it teach you on your path?

That you gotta ‘fight,’ and also how to be a master of improvisation…It's like salsa bands in the '90s — all these big people jamming, making improv — fighting.

I learned that with [Havana funk band] Interactivo, how to develop the groove and to release myself to say whatever I was feeling in the moment. And also how everyone is doing their own part.

How did you come to merge funk and Afro-Cuban rhythms? What does that connection represent for you?

Black music. All this information our ancestors brought and expressed in different places. Black roots, for me it's that. We came here as slaves — my ancestors, and they gave the continent music, love, vibe, energy.

And that drove the inspiration for your name too?

My grandparents suffered that more than me. They grew up with this kind of idea that we gotta be Black educated people with money, a good life, good clothes, clean, smelling good, decent — proud. I started to deal with this and myself in and through music. I started to feel so much of this pain my grandparents felt, but also so much love for us, and for myself. Then I started to change.

For me the cimarrón was the equivalent of the new Afro-Cuban way to be and communicate about music, culture, sports, etc. [Historically], the cimarrón was a proud Black person. He didn't feel like he was a slave. Instead he said, I’m a king, So the cimarrónes got together and created a village. They sang and danced in different ways, talked in a different language. They were together building a new society.

For me "Cimafunk" is a new way of life where you are proud [that] you can be yourself. You’re not going to question that you will be successful. So, ‘Cima’ is from this Cimarron heritage and "funk" is from the funky music I love.

I’ve heard you claim your music is more about celebration and joy than politics. Yet because your music combines Afro-Cuban rhythms and African American funk, do you think your music indirectly connects the US and Cuba?

This connection is not indirect. This musical and cultural exchange between our two countries has always been there.

I’m Cuban and I’m so happy to be an Afro-Latin person and artist. I’m really proud to have that in my existence. It's a lot of power and rhythm and groove. But my music is not just talking about "enjoying your night." It's talking about enjoying you as a person.

I’ve heard you reference Fela Kuti, quoting "music is the weapon." How does that philosophy resonate with you in regard to connecting the U.S. and Cuba?

Music is the weapon. But the weapon is not for hurting. The weapon is something to heal yourself. That's what Fela was saying from my conception: Music is about love, enjoying yourself, pleasure and revolution. That experience with art is something you need to figure out for yourself; you got to deal with you first. That is music for me. Music saved me. It brought me out of this difficult place. But when music gave me the groove, everything changed.

What direction do you see your music moving in the future?

Everything is growing since I started, and that's a good feeling. With the vibe we are working on now, everyone [on my team] is on fire. So the future is gonna be nice, with good people around, having fun.

I want to keep exploring different musical styles, especially in the groove. I’ll keep playing with the rhythms, knowledge and vibe, without killing the soul.

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Get beyond the snark about the snare sound and the lack of guitar solos, and 'St. Anger' sounds like a refreshing mid-career reset for the heavy metal lifers.

Since its release in 2003, there's been a consistent (pingy) drumbeat of chatter about Metallica's St. Anger.

The quixotic snare sound — which bassist and producer Bob Rock claimed he spent about 15 minutes crafting — is central to the St. Anger discourse; a Google search for "metallica st. anger snare" yields about 661,000 results. As for why the eight-time GRAMMY winners uncharacteristically nixed guitar solos? That question yields millions of hits.

Then there's the 2004 documentary Some Kind of Monster, one of the most uncomfortably revealing portraits of a rock band engulfed in a mid-life crisis. Memorable moments abound, but for one scene alone — drummer Lars Ulrich's Middle Earth-looking dad hearing a take, and telling his son to "delete that" — the film is a must-watch.

Given the controversial status St. Anger has accrued, it may seem like the metal community may want to, well, delete it. While your mileage may vary, this hotly debated album shouldn't be consigned to any internet-snark dustbin.

Listening with the benefit of temporal distance, tracks like "Frantic," "Some Kind of Monster" and "The Unnamed Feeling" sound raw and alive — perhaps of their time, given its adjacency to then-ascendant nü metal. Ultimately, they conjure the sensation of a reset, rather than a capitulation to trends.

Today, St. Anger seems to hew less to the reputation it's engineered, and more to Rock's characterization of the thing: "To me, this album sounds like four guys in a garage getting together and writing rock songs. There was really no time to get amazing performances out of James. We liked the raw performances… we just did it, boom, and that was it."

To mark the 20th anniversary of St. Anger, here are five facts about the album.

By 2001, Metallica hadn't released an album of original material in almost five years, since 1997's Reload (a follow-up to the previous year's Load).

While these sessions ground to a halt due to personal upheaval and frontman James Hetfield heading to rehab — and the band later continued work at a new studio in San Rafael, California — this no-nonsense setting befitted the unvarnished quality of the music.

Newsted was the second bassist for Metallica, after the tragic 1986 death of Cliff Burton. Newsted's departure came the month they began St. Anger, which destabilized progress on the album.

"Due to private and personal reasons, and the physical damage that I have done to myself over the years while playing the music that I love, I must step away from the band," Newsted said in a statement. "This is the most difficult decision of my life, made in the best interest of my family, myself, and the continued growth of Metallica."

As Hetfield put it, St. Anger was a valve for which to release intense psychological pressure.

"There's a lot of passion in this. There's two years of condensed emotion in this," he told Metal Edge magazine at the time. "We've gone through a lot of personal changes, struggles, epiphanies, it's deep. It's so deep lyrically and musically… It's so hard to talk about, you really need to hear it."

Accordingly, St. Anger is nothing if not visceral — and two decades haven't sanded off those sharp edges.

While producer Bob Rock recorded the bass parts on St. Anger, his instrumental involvement

would prove to be transitional; Robert Trujillo joined Metallica on bass in February 2001.

Having played on all ensuing Metallica albums, 2008's Death Magnetic, 2016's Hardwired… to Self Destruct and 2023's 72 Seasons — all of which were warmly received by critics — Trujillo is now the longest-serving bassist in Metallica.

While some contemporaneous critics knocked St. Anger as everything from "an ungodly mess" to having "underwent more processing than cat food," not everyone characterized it that way.

Allmusic called it a "punishing, unflinching document of internal struggle"; Rolling Stone said "there's an authenticity to St. Anger's fury that none of the band's rap-metal followers can touch."

As for the band themselves, they've seemingly come to accept St. Anger, warts and all.

"There are things I would like to change on some of the records, but it gives them so much character that you can't change them," Hetfield said in 2017. "St. Anger could use a little less tin snare drum, but those things are what make those records part of our history."

Unflinching, daring and unpolished, St. Anger is one of the ultimate "line in the sand" albums in heavy music history. Whatever your perception of this ugly-duckling entry is, take its 20-year anniversary as an opportunity to revisit its fury with fresh ears.

How Many GRAMMYs Have Metallica Won? Ahead Of New Album '72 Seasons': 6 Questions Answered

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While traveling the world, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers' lead vocalist River Shook is faced with one burning dilemma: finding a high-quality banana.

In the typical fashion of touring rock stars, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers' lead vocalist River Shook prefers an assortment of fruits and vegetables: hummus, baby carrots, baby peppers, and salsa. "It's nice to have some snacks that are a step up from gas station snacks," Shook says in this episode of Herbal Tea & White Sofas.

However, the most difficult healthy food to find is bananas, as Shook reveals: "In my experience, the bananas are half raw, green and half way too ripe. I don't know how gas stations do that because I haven't encountered that anywhere else."

Sarah Shook & the Disarmers aren't just on their best behavior with clean eating habits — they also make sure to treat every green room with the utmost respect.

"We just played someplace with a special note in the tour doc that was like, 'No inappropriate behavior backstage,'" Shook recounts. "And we were like, 'What? What are people doing back here? I don't want to know. I'm good.'"

Through everything, the most important aspect of touring for Shook is being able to show their authentic self. "Even the oldest of the songs that we're still performing are so personal to me because they come from my life experience [...] The closeness of the band shines through our music and through our live performances."

Press play on the video above to hear more about River Shook's touring lifestyle, and check back to GRAMMY.com for more new episodes of Herbal Tea & White Sofas.

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