The Elegance Of Time, a glossy, 256-page coffee table book by Swiss-Iranian photographer Anoush Abrar, honors and illuminates the central tenet of Montreux Jazz Festival: this is an event for musicians to let go and collaborate spontaneously; to surrender to the moment.

“In the live business, what makes Montreux Jazz so different is the luxury of time that we’re giving to artists,” festival CEO Mathieu Jaton tells Billboard U.K. “That’s where the magic comes out. We want to give them time for creativity and inspiration, and for meeting people. When they’re staying in Montreux for two or three days, we will accept the cost of the hotel and catering et cetera and give them the space to fully be here.”

Released earlier this year to mark the festival’s 60th anniversary, The Elegance Of Time brings together more than 300 photographs spanning the past decade of performances and candid backstage moments, tracing the more recent evolution of Montreux Jazz through Abrar’s lens. Published alongside a new exhibition based in the Swiss resort town, the book features intimate images of artists including Sam Smith, Jon Batiste, RAYE and Benson Boone, capturing a newer slate of acts that have revitalized the concert series’ backstory; this year’s event, which kicked off on July 3, runs through July 18

Jaton, who has led the festival since 2013, inherited the role from founder Claude Nobs, whose vision transformed a small jazz gathering into one of the world’s most revered music events. Their shared backgrounds in hospitality are no coincidence. Before launching Montreux Jazz in 1967, Nobs worked as a fine dining chef, while Jaton began his career in Switzerland’s hotel industry. It is a lineage that continues to shape the festival’s identity today, with a particular emphasis on how artists are welcomed and cared for, treating them more like guests of the city.

When visiting Montreux, Jaton wagers, musicians “have less stress and more fun”; they are encouraged by the festival organizers to extend their trip and explore the surrounding locale, which is home to studios previously used by Queen and David Bowie and is recognized by UNESCO as a pivotal location for musical history. Montreux has a population of 27,000, and there is “no fanaticism in Switzerland,” Jaton says, meaning that audiences are appreciative but rarely intrusive, allowing artists to roam around with relative anonymity.

British soul-pop star Sienna Spiro, who returned to the festival on Monday (July 6) to perform in celebration of her debut LP Visitor, concurs. When Billboard U.K. meets the singer backstage at the newly-reopened Montreux Music & Convention Centre, home to venues Auditorium Stravinski and the Montreux Jazz Lab, she opens her iPhone camera roll to show us a montage of memories here: swimming in Lake Geneva, watching old Nina Simone footage from the Montreux Jazz archives, walking along the town’s cobbled avenues with her team at dusk. 

“I feel at home performing here,” Spiro says. “I feel like the novelty of this festival doesn’t wear off. If I do some other festivals a second time, I don’t get that rush or ‘first time feeling’, but I definitely still have that for this. I’m so honored and grateful to be able to play this festival.”

So, what’s the magic in the water? Originally launched in 1967, Montreux Jazz has grown into an annual, two weeklong extravaganza that now spans genres far beyond its original remit. Such is its mythology that it has inspired some of music’s most enduring stories: Deep Purple’s “Smoke On The Water” was written after a fire at the Montreux Casino in 1971, which broke out during a Frank Zappa performance; Prince made the town a recurring creative home throughout the 2000s, with impromptu festival appearances and “Lavaux,” a song inspired by the breadth and beauty of the Alpine peaks. Ella Fitzgerald became a festival regular, while Miles Davis lent his name to a stretch of the lakeside promenade.

The question, then, is perhaps no longer whether the festival deserves its reputation, but how it continues to reinvent that legacy with every new generation of artists that passes through its site. Even a brief perusal of this year’s line-up will throw up names from the worlds of dance (Danny L. Harle), alternative pop and R&B (PinkPantheress, Giveon, Kwn), hip-hop (The Roots, Loyle Carner) and jazz (Marcus Miller, Charles Lloyd, Billy Cobham). 

RAYE, meanwhile, kicked off proceedings this year with a curated show on July 3 billed as Moments In Time, inviting guests Alicia Keys and Mark Ronson to perform orchestral renditions of highlights from the London singer’s catalog. Its exclusivity was testament to Montreux’s unique pull: a festival powerful enough to bring global stars together for a one-off performance.

Outside of the main bill, attendees can explore dozens of free pop-up shows, while the Montreux Jazz ecosystem can be felt at almost every turn. Opposite the conference center stands a merch shop stocked with football jerseys, serving plates, Keith Haring-style art prints, flip-flops and even an eco bike. MJF-branded Porsches cruise through the streets. There is a Montreux Jazz cafe at Geneva Airport and other licensing projects are in the works. Public transport is made free in order to extend the festival’s reach into the neighboring villages, while colorful murals of the late Nobs adorn post boxes and pavement corners.

All of this serves to bring Montreux’s history into the present, as Jaton explains: “I’m so proud, honestly, that we have some Swiss journalists questioning whether what we are doing is purely that to attract a younger audience,” he says. “No, it’s not a strategy, it’s just that we have the opportunity to host some of the biggest artists that are making music today. When you have an artist like PinkPantheress recognized by The BRIT Awards as the first female act to win producer of the year, it means something. So, she simply has to play Montreux.”

Having played the previous year, and appeared at a Spotlight Sessions event in between editions, Spiro is a key ambassador for Montreux Jazz and her inclusion on the 2026 line-up is indicative of the festival’s search for new torchbearers. It is “a wild honor” to brush up against decades of musical history, Spiro explains, and even more so to be part of the 16 British acts represented at this year’s Montreux Jazz, the most of any nation from across the bill.

“British music has just something special about it, our artists have a rare kind of honesty, grit and rawness to their work,” she says. “I feel like a lot of us are true musicians too. RAYE uses a proper live band, as does Olivia [Dean] and Lola [Young]. It shouldn’t be seen as ‘old school’ as this approach is obviously really connecting with people.”

During her set at the Montreux Jazz Lab, Spiro aired her own take on the jazz standard “Autumn Leaves,” as well as a cover of Otis Redding’s “Hard To Handle,” giving two classics a fresh perspective. There was evidence of that same cross-generational connection throughout: in Kwn’s set earlier in the evening, where an attentive, near phone-free audience revealed their surprise through their facial expressions as she joked that they “didn’t realize I make sex songs”, and in Nick Cave’s rapturous performance the night before, when he shouted “F–king Montreux” in delight over and over. Younger punters attending PinkPantheress lined buses towards the venue in tartan berets and fluffy stomper boots, with their parents in tow.

Those moments – a young artist discovering the festival archives that inspired generations before them, or a secret special guest arriving in town – are what keep Montreux moving forward, Jaton affirms. He points to 2026 headliner Conan Gray as an example of the festival’s approach to booking fresh faces. While the Gen Z-beloved singer is capable of selling out arenas in other European markets, he remains a comparatively new name in Switzerland.

“When I announced Conan Gray at our press conference, people said, ‘We don’t know him,’” Jaton recalls. “Meanwhile, he sold 18,000 tickets in Paris in 10 minutes this year, and sold out The O2 in London.” Many young Swiss fans are already traveling abroad to see artists like Gray, he says, making it all the more important to bring them to a domestic audience. That may mean attracting smaller crowds as awareness builds, or putting more resources into marketing output, but, for Jaton, it is a worthwhile investment in the festival’s future. He adds: “We have to bet on the potential of a new artist each time, but I’m happy to take that risk.”

In Jaton’s view, the artists who define and expand Montreux Jazz today may not be the ones audiences expect, but the festival’s principles remain the same as they were six decades ago: create the right environment for both artists and fans, and the history will take care of itself.

“We always have to look to the future. It’s good to have the past, the history, the patrimony of Montreux – that’s essential. But it’s even more essential to think about the future and the next generation,” Jaton concludes. “So when I’m criticized for booking an act because ‘it’s not jazz’, I actually find it interesting. My answer is simple: I don’t care what you think – I know it’s right.”

This story is part of Billboard’s Global World Cup Series, a collection of stories which pairs top soccer stars across the world competing in the 2026 FIFA World Cup with highly-touted musicians in accompanying countries.

Unflashy and unassuming, Nguyen Nhat Minh is the truest definition of Vietnam U23’s resilience. Fans see his sheer tenacity on the pitch, yet few realize that behind this composed fortress lies a man of deep reflection. Nhat Minh harbors a love for football profound and forgiving enough to transform every bitter hardship into the driving force to push forward.

It is no coincidence that Nhat Minh’s name features in the Billboard’s Global World Cup Series accompanying the 2026 FIFA World Cup. He approached our conversation with the same unwavering composure he showed at the final whistle of the 2026 AFC U23 Asian Cup third-place playoff. Looking back at that milestone, Nhat Minh retains his signature “cool” demeanor, letting the statistics speak for his extraordinary journey: 600 minutes of unceasing play, six consecutive matches and 16 spectacular clearances against a formidable opponent like South Korea.

His answer to our first question perfectly describes how he plays football. No goals scored, no flashy plays making the headlines. But every time he appears in the right spot, executes the perfect clearance and holds his position, the entire defense stands firm with him, and the whole squad rediscovers the vital energy needed to press on.

As an athlete, what do you admire most about music artists?

Nhat Minh: I admire how artists ignite passion and captivate their audience. It’s not something just anyone can do. It doesn’t stem from top-tier vocal techniques or the sheer number of hits, but rather from an invisible energy radiating from the stage into the crowd, making emotions swell and making the audience just want to stand up and sing along.

Amidst suffocating pressure, what makes you feel that all your efforts are worth it?

Nhat Minh: Every ounce of effort becomes worthwhile when you look at your own passion, fight for the national colors, strive for the team’s collective success and see the acknowledgment in the eyes of the fans.

A Team Player, Not a Spotlight Seeker

At the 2026 AFC U23 Asian Cup, while the defensive line was decimated by injuries and suspensions, Nhat Minh was the lone pillar standing tall from start to finish, not missing a single minute. This was absolutely no miracle or stroke of luck; it was the result of a physical foundation built through countless unphotographed training sessions and a nerves-of-steel mentality forged through forgotten defeats. He is a player born to belong to the collective, not to chase personal glory.

On match days, what genre of music do you and your teammates usually listen to?

Nhat Minh: Before the match, the whole team and I often turn to fast-paced and upbeat EDM tracks. Music at that moment acts as a catalyst, helping me heighten my focus, cast aside nerves and force my body to fully awaken to reach its peak state. But after leaving the locker room, Quân A.P’s music is what I listen to most to stabilize my mind.

Have you ever watched a World Cup live?

Nhat Minh: Although I am still just a loyal spectator through the small screen, my excitement for the World Cup has never faded. I always follow the matches because the allure of the rolling ball doesn’t just lie in the technicalities, but in the electrifying atmosphere of tens of thousands of people. The feeling of everyone holding their breath together, erupting in shared joy or collective regret — that is a magnificent resonating energy that no technology can replicate.

This story is part of Billboard’s Global World Cup Series, a collection of 11 cover stories which pairs top soccer stars across the world competing in the 2026 FIFA World Cup with highly-touted musicians in accompanying countries.

This summer, the World Cup arrives bigger than it has ever been: 48 teams, three host nations, the first edition played across the United States, Canada and Mexico together. South Korea travels to it for the 11th time in a row — a streak that runs unbroken to 1986 and still carries the memory of 2002, when the team reached the semifinals as co-hosts. For a few weeks every four years, an entire nation keeps the same schedule, wears the same color and shouts the same three words at the same instant: “Oh Pilseung Korea.”

A World Cup is a scored event — walkout anthems, stadium singalongs, the chant that turns tens of thousands of strangers into a single voice. Football and pop have been two of Korea’s loudest exports of the century, each carrying the country’s name abroad. And underneath the noise, the two run on the same engine: long, invisible preparation spent on one public moment, judged the second it arrives.

For its FIFA World Cup Edition, Billboard Korea puts two performers in one frame who rarely share it: singer Kwon Eunbi and footballer Heo Yong Joon. The surface logic is obvious — a stage, a pitch, two people who work in front of crowds. The more telling logic is timing: both arrive on the front edge of a new chapter.

Kwon spent the spring changing homes, leaving her label of eight years to sign with RBW, the house of MAMAMOO and ONEWE. She comes in as a soloist who has already shown she can will a song up the charts on her own terms — “Underwater,” the lead single from her 2022 EP Lethality, became a delayed hit roughly eight months after release, reignited by a 2023 Waterbomb set that made her a fixture on the summer festival circuit and earned the “Summer Queen” tag. Heo, the striker fans call “Heonaldo” for the Ronaldo-style celebration that trails his goals, has chased the next finish across nearly a decade in the K League — a 2016 debut at Jeonnam Dragons, a 2017 national-team call-up — and is now eyeing a move abroad.

One works to a beat, the other to a whistle. Both are betting the best of it is still ahead.

This edition brings music and sport into a single frame. How does it feel to be part of it?

Kwon Eunbi: I think music and sports are deeply alike in the way they bring people’s emotions together. The World Cup especially is such a special event — people all over the world cheering together in the same moment. It feels genuinely meaningful and exciting to be part of a project like this.

What does the World Cup bring back for you?

Kwon: For me, the World Cup brings back memories of the whole family gathering in front of the TV to cheer together. When I was little, I remember watching the matches with my family in a Red Devils T-shirt — and I can still vividly picture the way everyone erupted at once the moment Korea scored.

And for you — when did you first start dreaming of becoming a footballer?

Heo Yong Joon: I think I first started dreaming of becoming a footballer around the third grade. From then on, my goal was to play for the national team. The period when I felt I grew the most as a player was during my elementary school years, too. I met wonderful coaches when I was young and learned so much from them, and those experiences are the biggest reason I’ve been able to keep going as a player all this time. That’s why I believe the youth years are so important.

Fans also call you “Heonaldo.” Were there players you looked up to, or who shaped how you play?

Heo: I think the nickname “Heonaldo” came from my goal celebration. Of course, it would’ve been even better if it came from my playing style or skill. (Laughs.) I like Neymar of Brazil and Cristiano Ronaldo.

What do fans mean to you as a player?

Heo: I think fans are the greatest source of strength inside a stadium. When I hear the roar of the crowd and their voices cheering me on, it really gives me so much power on the field. I turned pro in 2016, and there are fans who’ve supported me without fail ever since. Just knowing they’ve stayed by me so steadily, for so long, makes me truly grateful.

And on stage — when did you feel that love most strongly?

Kwon: I think I felt it most at summer festivals and college events. It made me so happy when the audience sang along to my songs and threw themselves into the performance from start to finish. In moments like that, it really hits me: “Wow, I’m truly being given so much love.”

Stepping out as a soloist means carrying the whole stage on your own. What changed most for you?

Kwon: I think the biggest difference is the sense of responsibility. In a group, there were so many moments when we could lean on one another. Onstage, just catching a member’s eye gave me strength, and we could share our energy back and forth. As a solo artist, I have to carry the stage on my own, so at first there was real pressure. But because of that, I think I’ve been able to express my own voice and emotions more deeply.

On the field you read as full of confidence. What do you see as your greatest strength?

Heo: I love the phrase “always with confidence,” and I think that naturally comes through on the field. At the same time, I always remind myself not to let confidence tip over into arrogance.

A single play can change a match. How do you handle the pressure of those moments?

Heo: I once read an interview with a player who said you should enjoy the pressure and the tension, and I remember relating to that so strongly. So I try to enjoy those situations as much as I can, too. It isn’t easy, of course, but I keep working toward that mindset.

Watching footballers, what do you respect most?

Kwon: I think it’s amazing how they hold their focus right to the end under that kind of intense pressure. When I’m onstage, there are moments when my concentration wavers for a second, and each time I have to work to pull it back. But footballers are out there for a long stretch, and it must be so physically demanding — so for them to sustain that focus is genuinely impressive. Especially in the big matches, I really sense how much mental strength must matter.

Do you play any sports yourself?

Kwon: I usually enjoy exercises that work on balance, like Pilates or running. I’ve been performing on stage for a long time, so taking care of my stamina is really important. I also keep up activities like hiking and weight training to build my strength.

And your own routine for staying in condition?

Kwon: I put the most importance on sleep and meals. No matter how busy I get, I try to keep my sleep rhythm as steady as I can, and I think eating well is really important too. When things get hectic it’s easy to skip meals, so whenever I can, I make a point of eating properly.

Up close, what do you think the two fields share?

Kwon: I really do think there’s a lot in common. A performance or a match itself is over in a brief moment, but you practice and prepare for such a long time for it. That part feels very similar to me. And the audience or the fans feel the emotion of that moment directly — so in the end, I think music and sports share a similar power to move people’s hearts.

From your side, what impresses you most about musicians?

Heo: I think the patience it takes to carry a fleeting spark of inspiration all the way through to a finished piece is incredible. We only ever hear the completed song — maybe three minutes long — but behind it are countless revisions, recordings and long hours of creation. That doggedness it takes to turn an abstract melody in your head into real music is something I find truly impressive.

And what do you think the power of music is?

Kwon: I think the greatest power of music is that it can carry emotion even when people don’t share a language. A song can bring you comfort without your trying, or fill you with energy instead. That’s something special that only music can do.

What are you listening to before a match?

Heo: I really love listening to music in general. I tend to listen to a lot of ballads and hip-hop — I think I play a lot of Ash Island and Kid Wine. For ballads, I lean toward older songs.

And your routine to get into game mode?

Heo: Before a match I always do visualization. I also make sure to hydrate and stretch, and I try to listen to upbeat music to loosen up my body and lift my mood a little.

What about you, before you go onstage?

Kwon: Usually I listen to my own songs the most. I use that time to rehearse and picture the kind of stage I want to put on, so I tend to play through the setlist. After that, the music I reach for shifts a little depending on the mood of the day.

If you could pick just one song as your stadium entrance music?

Kwon: From my own songs, I’d pick “Underwater.” It has this quality that takes over the room from the very first note, with an energy that gradually pulls you in — so I think it would work well as entrance music in a stadium.

And which of your own songs would best suit a World Cup stadium?

Kwon: I think “Hello Stranger” would fit well. The song has such intense energy and momentum that I think it would match the fever-pitch atmosphere of a stadium.

Behind the highlights are long hours of repetition. What keeps you going through them?

Heo: I think the biggest thing is not wanting to let down the fans who come out to the stadium. They spend their time and money to come watch us, so I always find myself working to show them a better version of myself. I also push through and overcome the hard moments for my own growth as a player. In the end, I believe all sports exist because of the fans, and that’s one of my greatest sources of motivation.

And what does it mean to take the field for your country?

Heo: Taking the field for your country comes with enormous pride and responsibility. There’s pressure, of course, but I think you have to play with a pride that’s even greater than that. So many people are cheering for us, and I draw a lot of strength from that. I always try to give my all with the mindset that I’m playing for the team and the country, not just for myself — and after that, I try to leave the result up to fate.

What are you focused on next?

Kwon: I always want to show people something new, so I’m constantly mulling over different musical directions to try. I can’t go into detail yet, but I’m hard at work on new projects I think my fans will love.

What do you hope fans take from this edition?

Kwon: Just like the passion and excitement the World Cup brings, I hope this photo shoot and interview carry that same positive, high-energy feeling to everyone.

This story is part of Billboard’s Global World Cup Series, a collection of 11 cover stories which pairs top soccer stars across the world competing in the 2026 FIFA World Cup with highly-touted musicians in accompanying countries.

This story spans cities scattered across the world and has three Argentine protagonists, all 25 years old and hungry for glory. Florencio Varela, in the southern outskirts of Buenos Aires, is a working-class neighborhood where cumbia and soccer share the same language. That’s where Tobías Medrano and Matías Rapen are from — the two halves of La T y La M, the duo that got its start during the 2020 pandemic and rose to prominence when the Argentine national team adopted their music as the locker room soundtrack. Around that same time, Enzo Fernández arrived in Varela: born in San Martín, in the northern suburbs of Buenos Aires, he was a talented prospect with no room at River Plate. Lent to Defensa y Justicia, he took over the midfield, showcasing his versatile style — panoramic vision, tactical intelligence, precision in the tackle and the pass. He was a key piece in the Copa Sudamericana 2020 and Recopa 2021 titles, trophies that opened the door to Europe: first Benfica, then Chelsea, who paid €121 million in one of the three most expensive transfers in Premier League history.

The same day Argentina kicked off Qatar 2022 with a shocking loss to Saudi Arabia, La T y La M released “Pa’ la Selección,” which would become the fans’ parallel anthem during the campaign that ended with Messi lifting the trophy. That tournament was also Enzo’s launchpad: at 21, he won the FIFA Young Player Award, honoring the best player at the event 21 years old or younger. For the duo, it was equally a turning point: they grew into regulars in the top 10 of the Billboard Argentina Hot 100, with “Amor de Vago” as their peak — 12 consecutive weeks at No. 1 in 2025.

Now, with the 2026 World Cup just around the corner — Argentina leads Group J and will face Algeria, Austria and Jordan — all three are facing new challenges. Enzo will arrive to defend the title fresh off the FA Cup final, amid rumors linking him away from Chelsea. La T y La M, meanwhile, will release Tierra de Campeones (Land of Champions), an EP inspired by the national team and the passion it ignites. 

Billboard Argentina brought the three together in late April in Madrid. Enzo arrived with his trademark wide smile and a mate kit — the natural icebreaker for a conversation woven through music and soccer. Flipping through a print issue of the magazine, his musical tastes came to the surface: Daddy Yankee (“he came to London to see me, we hung out after the game”), Bad Bunny (“top, top, top — I’d love for him to do a cumbia with La T y La M”) and some Argentine rock: “I don’t know much, I won’t lie to you. But I love La Beriso and Callejeros.” The mate kept going around. So did the conversation.

Enzo: What do you admire most about soccer players?

Tobías: The consistency and discipline to compete at such a high level. We can get together for a drink, have a barbecue, laugh, do normal things … but you won’t even touch a soda! (Laughs.) That tells me everything about why things work out the way they do for you. It’s the consistency and discipline, beyond the talent.

Matías: This guy never loses focus. You set the bar high for us, man! (Laughs.) 

Enzo: Fair enough. You guys have to keep me in check.

Tobías: And what do you admire about musicians? 

Enzo: Great question. The talent — what they show when they have to perform in front of so many people. Because in the end, it’s just you up there. What I admire most is that personality, the way they carry music out into the world.

Enzo: What do you think soccer and music have in common?

Tobías: The funnel effect. In Argentina, you lift a rock and find someone who plays soccer — but only 1% ever make it. Same with music: how many people have talent, can sing, play instruments, but never break through?

Matías: Talent and discipline go hand in hand. You can have all the talent in the world, but if you’re not disciplined, you stay stuck.

Tobías: How do you think music enhances the soccer experience?

Enzo: For me, music is life. It helps you focus, takes the pressure off before a game, motivates you. I love listening to music on the team bus on the way to the stadium, and then in the locker room. It really helps you get your head somewhere else.

Tobías: Who controls the music in the locker room? 

Enzo: On the bus, it’s Rodri [Rodrigo De Paul]. In the locker room, it’s Ota [Nicolás Otamendi]. We listen to everything, but mainly cumbia. A lot of La T y La M cumbia. 

Matías: Let’s go!

Matías: What excites you most about the next World Cup? 

Enzo: Getting to be with my teammates again and feeling that passion that Argentine fans bring. During the year we compete at a high level, but the World Cup is something else. The focus is different; we prepare mentally in a different way. It comes around every four years and you have to be at 100%.

Tobías: That’s everything.

Enzo: Forget that we’re friends and that you know some of the guys on the national team. As fans, what do you expect from our squad? 

Tobías: The “three W’s”: win, wow and wallop. The truth is, with the relationship we have, you end up feeling closer to the players. But beyond that — they did everything Argentine people ever dreamed of. They made us forget our problems, our crises. I love watching them play, I love seeing the national team string 20 passes together and put it in the net. We won everything there was to win. And I say “we” because I’m a diehard fan and I feel like part of it. Nobody can ask anything more of them today. The people just want to see them happy, the same way they made us happy. 

Enzo: You still have to demand things from us — that’s how we keep winning. 

Tobías: Sure … next time we’ll give you hell. (Laughs.) 

Matías: Son of a b–h, son of a b—h! (Laughs.)

Lewis Capaldi arrives, shoulders loose, hair tousled; his eyes are bright, steady and settled. A deep exhale follows. “This feels quite weird,” he says, right leg gently bouncing as he perches on the edge of a primrose-yellow accent chair. “I haven’t done something like this for a while.”

We meet in a downtown Chicago hotel bar, where there’s an understated sense of occasion: This is the Scottish singer-songwriter’s first in-person profile interview in almost four years. The low metallic rumble of the L train passes the window next to us at regular intervals. Capaldi, a preternaturally warm person, is telling Billboard U.K. how it feels to be back in the hot seat.

His nerves may feel palpable, but this is an artist gradually re-emerging into his element, back on tour and stepping onto the biggest stages of his career with a fresh purpose. Later this evening, he will head to the 23,500-capacity United Center as part of a sold-out North American headline tour, which has also featured shows at Madison Square Garden and the Hollywood Bowl — as well as a double-header at Denver’s Red Rocks Amphitheater — in support of his recent Survive EP (via Polydor), after the title track hit No. 1 in the U.K. last summer.

Capaldi is taking the current run in his stride. He’s committed to a new gym routine and has refreshed his wardrobe, donning an Adidas track jacket with an easy cool. Indie star Sam Fender, one of his closest friends, took him on a night out to New York City’s notorious Newcastle United supporters’ bar; Capaldi marked the release of new single “Stay Love” via a surprise fan event at Penn Station, with roses passed through the crowd. 

“Genuinely, this is the most fun I have ever had on tour. I feel like I have properly loosened up. And I have… locked in,” Capaldi begins. “Is that even the right phrase?!” 

Well, quite. He describes how he’s reduced a near-daily therapy schedule to one session a fortnight, while he “didn’t give a f–k” that his voice sounded “really croaky” at the Madison Square Garden show, as he felt so enamored by the gratitude of simply being present on stage. A few days after our conversation, he’ll go on to play a full acoustic show at Red Rocks despite technical difficulties, and remain relaxed and buoyant throughout. “I used to feel horrible when things started to go wrong,” he adds. “It was like I was existing inside my head.”

All of this perspective carries a deeper, almost full-circle significance as Capaldi returns to the Windy City. It’s nearly three years to the day since the 29-year-old last played here, at the 5000-capacity Aragon Ballroom. That night, before stepping out for the encore, Capaldi was overcome by a panic attack, “convulsing” as the episode escalated to the point where he felt completely detached from his own body. He returned to finish the set with support from fans, but the show marked not an immediate turning point so much as a stark realisation of where his health stood.

“Last time I was here in Chicago, I was undoubtedly at my lowest,” Capaldi recalls, tugging at the sleeves of his black crew jumper. “I was mentally f–ked and physically struggling with my back, too. It was killing me. Honestly, I look back now and I think, ‘Why didn’t you just stop?’”

In the thick of promoting his U.K. chart-topping 2022 LP Broken by Desire to Be Heavenly Sent, while facing the reality of a recent Tourette’s Syndrome diagnosis, Capaldi was burnt out and fired up. As fatigue started to set in, the involuntary, jagged movements that define his condition (called “tics”) became more pronounced, as did the persistent nausea he was experiencing. Yet this health revelation only intensified public interest as Capaldi shared the news in an Instagram Live session; his fame continued to soar not in spite of the struggle, but alongside it.

After the incident at Aragon Ballroom, Capaldi pushed himself to finish a further 12 North American shows, plus a subsequent U.K. run of promotional underplay gigs, as planned. It would take until he reached Glastonbury Festival in June 2023 for things to unravel — and for this in-demand star to realize that he’d “been in f–king denial, and living a life of pain.”

During a prime sunset slot on the Pyramid Stage, broadcast live to millions of viewers at home, Capaldi had what he describes today as “a very public breakdown.” The performance saw him repeatedly chastise himself for losing his voice, while visibly battling intense vocal and physical tics. Throughout closer “Someone You Loved,” the audience belted the words out for him, as Capaldi accepted defeat, staring out into a middle distance. “Glastonbury, thank you so much,” he said as the performance concluded. “If I never get to do this again, this has been amazing.” 

Three years later, the footage – which frequently cuts away from the stage, leaving the full extent of what was happening largely unseen – remains a difficult watch, but also stands as a powerful example of collective compassion. For Capaldi, it spurred a self-administered intervention. “Looking back, anyone could see that I felt f–king dejected, disappointed, sad and just worthless that day,” he says. “But as soon as I got off stage, I was like, ‘I’m taking a break now.’ It felt like a weight had been lifted. People saw how f–king detrimental things can get.” 

Capaldi walked backstage to find his parents crying, while his band was also visibly upset. He instead had a very calm, almost detached reaction, leaving the site immediately to head to Glasgow to see some childhood friends at a pub. Though much of that trip home now “feels like a blur,” he remembers looking at his phone and seeing that he’d made national headlines, while his Instagram DMs became flooded with fans expressing concern. 

In hindsight, for Capaldi, the fallout from months of physical strain had become a question of pride. Already a homegrown star by this point, it was the international success of Broken by Desire…, which debuted at No. 14 on the Billboard 200, that caused demand to outstrip the initial rollout plans. “When I got my Tourette’s diagnosis, I thought to myself, ‘Oh well, just carry on. This is life now,’” he says. “I wanted to finish the tour, almost as a badge of honor, and then get to Glastonbury – but I probably should have never been up there in the first place.”

Mid-sentence, Capaldi knocks the table for emphasis, unknowingly spilling his glass of water. “You could drive yourself crazy thinking about it all,” he says. “But things happened exactly the way they were supposed to happen.”

There was a point at the turn of the decade when Capaldi’s grip on British pop culture felt inescapable. He’d been inclined to agree. “I feel like in the U.K., you walk out your front door and there’s a chance I might be there,” he says. “It’s almost like I’m part of the furniture!”

Having been lifted from relative obscurity – playing pubs around West Lothian before his manager stumbled upon his SoundCloud page – Capaldi’s rise was meteoric. His 2018 breakout single “Someone You Loved,” an Adele-sized gut-punch of a pop megaballad, topped the Billboard Hot 100 and spent seven weeks at No. 1 in the U.K. It is now the nation’s most-streamed song ever, and stands at No. 6 on the global all-time Spotify rankings, higher than any track by streaming-era heavyweights like Taylor Swift and Drake.

This fairytale-like story continued. When Divinely Uninspired To A Hellish Extent arrived a month later, it became the U.K.’s biggest-selling album of the year, a feat it would repeat in 2020. Its author was showered with accolades, ranging from a Grammy nomination (song of the year) to two BRIT Award wins. He became an ever-present fixture at red carpet events, with a self-deprecating personality that felt refreshing among other rising stars who were arguably more hesitant to say, or even be, much of anything at all. 

Anchoring it all was that voice — raw, bruised, heartfelt and unflinching, digging up long-buried feelings and reshaping them with grace. No amount of studio polish can account for how Capaldi can break your heart with a whisper or lift it with anthems of emotional tenacity, all steered by that thick, unmistakable Scottish accent.

Critics were largely unanimous in their response to the record, pointing to its run of slow-burning tracks as somewhat repetitive, with one outlet stating it had “no subtlety, originality or range.” Capaldi had his right to reply on social media, where he became an early adopter of TikTok. In the majority of his clips, he poked fun at the sentimentality of his own music — dimples deepening as he laughed — by embracing its excesses.

Few acts could rival Capaldi for his irreverence and marketing nous, but the level of exposure soon came at a cost. “People wouldn’t always engage with the music. They’d come up to me in the street and say, ‘You’re my favourite TikToker!’,” he recalls. That tension only intensified in the run-up to Broken By Desire… for which promotion was amplified by high-profile commercial tie-ins (Deliveroo, Tinder) and a Capaldi-branded pizza range sold in British supermarkets. But there was a creeping sense that the deliberately absurd spectacle risked overshadowing the songs themselves, a trade-off that became harder to ignore.

“I was doing so much content, and that very quickly became commodified. A lot of the second album roll-out was based around doing a funny video to go viral,” Capaldi says. “I became so exhausted from putting on the whole, ‘Oh, I’m so f–king silly’ thing. I felt like I was playing up to other peoples’ ideas of me.”

There was a moral conundrum, too, tied to his own everyman appeal and how it was being shaped and used. “It sometimes felt a bit like, ‘How can we get money out of this? How can we f–king sell, sell, sell?’”

Out of “not wanting to upset others”, Capaldi won’t be drawn on specific campaigns or product releases, but he is forthright in explaining how he believes he has “not treated the fanbase in the way that I probably should have.” He continues: “There was maybe an element of trying to extract too much from people. I have very confused feelings towards that time.”

This came to a head with the 2023 Netflix special How I’m Feeling Now, he says, reflecting: “I look back at things, and I think there’s a lot of s–t I wish I hadn’t done.” He adds that while he doesn’t necessarily “regret” it, the documentary became deeply tied to his private life. Over 96 minutes, it shows Capaldi battling exhaustion, imposter syndrome and creative frustration, alongside intimate scenes at his childhood home with his parents.

Capaldi says the only time he has watched How I’m Feeling Now back is when he had to sign off on the edit; seeing himself reckon with his Tourette’s diagnosis onscreen was upsetting enough to not want to revisit it. He recalls reshooting the final scene – set to look forward to his future as an artist – because the first version was “really depressing,” reflecting the wider mental state the film captures. Over time, what began as a more straightforward tour documentary evolved into an unfiltered portrait of an artist under pressure.

“Maybe if I’d known that, I probably wouldn’t have done it,” he says of the change in the film’s direction. “Also seeing my parents featured in it in such a big way… I don’t love that. Looking back on it, I think up until that point, I’d been quite protected. People didn’t know much about my day-to-day life; I wasn’t putting personal stuff on social media.” 

Capaldi’s vulnerability throughout the documentary created an access point for people who might not have been previous fans of his music. The response continues to be “overwhelming”; he speaks of the frustration of not being able to individually help all those who have reached out to him via message, while also acknowledging that he activated a conversation around neurodivergence and grief while at the beginning of his own recovery. 

As we broach this subject, he leans forward across the table, and starts talking 10 to the dozen about his reluctance to be seen as a “mental health poster boy.” He adds that a second Netflix documentary centered around the journey to Glastonbury 2023 was scrapped, following some “difficult discussions” about its proposed content and the eventual outcome of Capaldi’s performance at the festival.

As such, during his break, he began to ask himself bigger questions. What did he want out of his career? Why was it so important to succeed? Capaldi thinks he found the answer in starting to live for himself. “‘Authenticity’ has become a buzz word and I feel like not everything has to be out there,” he says. “I just don’t care to deal at that altar anymore, you know what I mean?”

In many ways, the past few years for Capaldi have been centered around finding the fun and mystery in music again; to remember what songwriting is to him beyond trying to top his previous milestones. He credits this mindshift change in part to a tight-knit circle of artist friends, naming them one by one while holding up a finger for each as he goes: Sam Fender, Grian Chatten [Fontaines D.C.], Niall Horan, Bradley Simpson [The Vamps], Ed Sheeran. 

Capaldi owns a house in north London, where he lives in close proximity to Fender and Chatten. The trio, who jokingly dub themselves “The Syndicate,” have been spotted holidaying in County Mayo on the west coast of Ireland and supporting each other at their respective headline shows. They regularly send each other new music, Capaldi says, with recent favourites including ascendant Dublin rockers Bleech 9:3, singer-songwriter Aaron Rowe, also from the Irish capital, and Scottish folk act Jacob Alon.

In October 2025, Capaldi headed to Newcastle to support Fender and Chatten at the Mercury Prize ceremony, for which they were both nominated, with the former ultimately winning for his opus People Watching. Seeing two of the most important people in his life recognised for their artistic ambition had a motivating effect on Capaldi, reinforcing the value of creative risk-taking.

“[Sam and Grian] talk about music as art – and I know this sounds f-king mental coming from someone who is also a musician – but they really f–king care about everything they’re putting out,” Capaldi says. “It is so inspiring. What they have instilled in me is to really take time [in the studio], and start properly giving a f–k about what I’m saying and what the songs sound like.”

Capaldi says he is “happy and secure” enough to admit he’s “unsure” what his future looks like. Survive was released to “clear the decks” of previously recorded material, allowing him to move forward without a fixed plan. He has yet to begin work on a new album, but he wants to work with new collaborators, be involved in “every single aspect of the production,” and “not compromise” on the recording process. “I feel the most confused and lost I’ve ever been in my career. But it’s a really good thing; I feel like I have absolutely no idea what the f–k I’m doing.”

He continues: “Around the second album, I became so hyper-focused on chasing a hit record that I was just doing s–t on the fly and handing off songs to producers. I don’t want to phone in anything ever again. The people who listen to my music deserve better; I deserve better.”

A triumphant comeback campaign started with a surprise appearance at Glastonbury last summer, where Capaldi returned to the Pyramid Stage to deliver a full set and finish where he’d left off two years earlier. “I cannot overstate the importance of that day and what it’ll mean to me for the rest of my life. If that hadn’t gone well, I don’t know what situation I’d be in; but it did, and I showed up for myself,” he says.

In the following months, he went to see Oasis, Radiohead and McFly perform live – describing all three gigs as “the best night of my life” – while also making a cameo in Taylor Swift’s “Opalite” video, and embarking on a U.K. and Ireland arena tour, during which he began to shift his focus away from monitoring his tics on stage. The latter marked a significant step for Capaldi, who had previously cancelled dates amid severe health anxiety, including at times to undergo medical checks.

As he has settled back into touring, there have been musical legends who have remained firmly in his corner. Among them is Elton John, who has offered his support in private, as well as seminal songwriter David Gray, who wrote Capaldi a personal letter of encouragement. Those kind gestures have formed a steady foundation as he continues to navigate his next steps, and he’s keen to “pay it forward” and support other artists battling adversity, having reached out to Lola Young amidst the intense scrutiny the singer faced last year as her profile rapidly rose.

“Lola is amazing, she’s incredible,” Capaldi says. “I sent her a big message where I was like, ‘Look, you don’t need to reply to this, but I know how you’re feeling.’ When I went away, there were a lot of people reaching out to me; I didn’t get back to everybody, but it meant a lot. Everyone talks about the ‘duty of care’ that is required from labels, but I think we also have a responsibility as artists to share that support.”

The United Center show later in the evening will reveal an artist who seems looser and more liberated as he bathes in the glow of the crowd. On a yearning “Something in the Heavens,” Capaldi’s falsetto can be an almost unbearably intimate instrument to listen to, leaping from gentle to piercing in a single note, while a reworked version of “Pointless” is both desperately sad and beautiful at once, like a bloom pushing through concrete. Soft, exquisite lighting illuminates the tenderness with which this music is being relayed on stage. 

As his live pull continues to surge, an extensive summer run lies ahead, including a two-night takeover of London’s 65,000-capacity BST Hyde Park, but in Chicago the focus is firmly on immediacy. “I’m very excited to be back in this city and playing the gig you all deserve. It’s all uphill from here,” Capaldi says, his words landing like a promise he knows he can keep.

Portraits by Lane Dorsey for Billboard U.K.
Live photography by Thomas Falcone

Two years ago when someone recommended that Lindsey Stirling reach out to ARKAI, a New York-based electroacoustic string duo, Stirling was immediately on board with the idea. The legendary genre-blending violinist primarily worked with producers who came to writing sessions with set backing tracks and were too nervous to recommend changes to her violin melodies. She rarely got to work with other string players.

“I was so excited to collaborate with someone who spoke my language,” Stirling says to Billboard about ARKAI. “We did a writing session, and afterwards, I was like, ‘That was so fun.’ My little string heart was exploding.”

ARKAI — which is made up of violinist Jonathan Miron and cellist Philip Sheegog — was equally as excited to work with Stirling. The two instrumentalists, who met as students at Juliard and have been making music together for almost eight years, looked up to Stirling for a long time.

“Lindsey Stirling is an icon for the string community, because she showed us all what’s possible,” says Miron. “She showed us how we could take the old instrument, this violin, and bring it into mainstream sensibilities.”

The synergy between the three musicians was instant, and in the two years since they’ve met, they’ve continued to cultivate it. ARKAI and Stirling regularly get together for writing and jam sessions. Last year, ARKAI joined Stirling on her “Master of Tides” cruise, a multi-day music festival at sea.

Most recently, the trio performed at the Gold Gala, an annual event that brings together leaders from across industries to honor Asian Pacific and multicultural trailblazers. During their set at the Gold Gala, ARKAI and Stirling debuted original music on stage for the first time — a reimagining of ARKAI’s song “High Noon,” off their Grammy-winning 2025 album Brightside.

Billboard sat down with Stirling, Miron and Sheegog to talk about their Gold Gala performance, what it’s like working together and what the trio is most excited for next.

You all just performed at the Gold Gala. What did it mean to you to take the stage at an event all about celebrating API identities?

Jonathan Miron: The Gold Gala is kind of like the Met Gala for the Asian community. So to get invited and to be featured at an event like that was a dream come true. Philip and I kicked off with a medley of iconic Asian soundtracks, and then Lindsey joined us on stage, and that was our first performance ever with Lindsey playing an original song. All these things coming together — we are still pinching ourselves, it was a crazy experience.

And to look out into the audience, they were honoring people like Eileen Gu, and Jet Li. These are people we’ve seen on the screens. These are people we’ve seen kick ass at the Olympics. It’s unbelievable. And for us to be able to share our own music with these people is really an incredible honor.

I didn’t get to attend the Gold Gala, can you tell me more about the song you performed and why you wanted to debut it there?

JM: The song is called “High Noon,” and it’s off of our recent Grammy-winning album [Brightside]. So we have the version that Philip and I created together. But when we were in the studio with Lindsey in New York, we were like, “Maybe there’s a world where Lindsey would want to hop on one of our existing songs.” Philip and I were already planning on putting out a deluxe version of the album with some amazing collaborators, and we were like, “Well, Lindsey would absolutely slay on ‘High Noon.’”

PS: The original version, as many of our originals are, is like a massive cinematic IMAX experience. It’s explosive drums and huge synth walls and then our violin and cellos are screaming on top. But the melodic hooks were the things that we thought were the core, the DNA, of the song — something that can be translated. And so we asked, “What would happen if we kind of pulled [the hooks] a little bit towards Lindsey’s aesthetic? Make it a little bit faster, a little bit more dance pop-infused, a little more electronic-infused.”

It’s the combination of our two worlds. Hopefully when a fan listens to it, they say, “That’s Lindsey, but it’s also ARKAI, and it’s the two together.” It feels like a really great first thing that we’ve now put out into the world at this performance, and now we’re just really excited to see how people respond to it.

What is it like composing music all together?

Lindsey Stirling: It is unlike any other process I’ve ever done. Usually you’re working with guys that have tracks or maybe they’re playing piano. But there’s something about the reverberation of strings together that actually makes your heart swell. Maybe I’m totally biased, because I’m a string player, but we’ll just start jamming, and it’s so fun because we’re not locked into a tempo. We’re just playing, we’re feeding off of each other’s melody. And we record the whole thing, so we’ll go back and find the parts we love and then we’ll turn them into refined melodies. It’s so fun to write with them. I would do it any chance I get.

PS: Since Jonathan and I, for the last almost eight years, we’ve been a duo, we basically have only written with each other. We write, arrange and produce all of our own music, so we know each other inside and out at this point. We know how each other think, our tendencies and how we play. But now we’re adding in another creative voice, who is at the same time very similar because Lindsey is a string player and we speak that same language. But she also has her own unique vocabulary, style, melodic and rhythmic tendencies and sensibilities. And so throwing that new element into the creative mix that we’ve been working in for years at this point, I think that was really, really fun, because it keeps you on your toes.

Is “High Noon” a one-off or the beginning of more recorded music from you three as a trio?

LS: We’re gonna definitely do more together. We are doing some tour dates this summer in select cities throughout the U.S., so we’ll get to perform it more together. And we actually worked on some music for my album that will be coming out hopefully next year. I would love to have their voices on it.

I always kind of wondered, when you hear a violin baked into a track, would you be able to differentiate mine from somebody else’s? And it’s so true that we really all three — not only does the cello have its own voice — we all play very differently. We have a different way of expressing, we play different kinds of melodies. Everybody has their own voice and I’m excited to not only have “High Noon” to release this year, but also, next year, another track.

You all fuse classical sounds with more modern ones and in doing so, you show younger audiences that there are so many possibilities with string or other classical instruments. What does it mean to you all to introduce new generations to these worlds?

LS: For me, it’s always been really important to give people that kind of an option. I remember when I was a kid, there wasn’t much to play. It was classical music and maybe fiddle music, and there wasn’t really any other option. I remember I never wanted to perform at the talent show, because I was like, “Everyone will be bored.” So now, I would love for kiddos to feel like they could play something that maybe feels a little bit more contemporary, and they can be cool.

I also really hope that it goes beyond just string players. I hope that by being authentic and outside of the box, that people realize that whatever they do, they can they can reinvent themselves, they can step outside the lines — whether it’s being a feminist in a society that doesn’t support that or it’s sharing your poetry that’s really different. I just hope that everybody feels like they don’t belong in a box.

JM: It means everything to me and Philip. We feel so lucky to have had someone like Lindsey to look up to. She really did show us what’s possible. When we started doing our own thing, we were like, “You know what? If Lindsey can do it, maybe we can do it as well.” And I think that’s what we hope to leave with with young people, young musicians. And exactly like Lindsey said, it really translates across so many different disciplines and professions — this idea that it’s okay to think outside of the box and do your own thing. I would argue that now more than ever, society is going to require that out of people. With automation and AI and all these different things, we’re going to need new ideas. We’re going to need people doing different things, and that’s how you stand out. And so what we hope is that maybe our stories can inspire a new generation of trailblazers.

PS: The name “ARKAI” actually comes from a Greek word that means “leaders.” And that was something that when Jonathan and I first started out, that’s what we wanted to be in the in the world of string players, and the classical world writ large. But we see ourselves just as the latest links in the chain, a chain that goes back to Lindsey and her contemporaries, which then goes back another chain to the pioneers before that. It’s this endless chain and our greatest hope is that in a couple years, we’ll see some other young group who comes up and says, “Because I saw what you were doing, I had the courage to write.” And I just echo everything that both Jonathan and Lindsey said, it’s so much more than music.

Speaking of being trailblazers, ARKAI, congratulations on winning your first Grammy! What do you think winning the award is going to change for you?

PS: To the haters who are going to hate, hopefully, it just shuts some of them up. In some ways, there are always going to be barriers and roadblocks and gatekeepers who have their own opinions, but our hope is that it is a sort of stamp of approval that shows people are willing to listen to you. Our hope is that it helps people to have the conversation, to be open minded, to be like, “Okay, we don’t exactly know where to put you in in our boxes, right? You’re outside the box, but you’ve got this stamp of approval, so we’ll listen to you.” And then hopefully, through that, they then discover something that they weren’t expecting.

JM: We got interviewed right after the Grammy, and one of the things I said was that I really hope that for people who have faced rejection — we have been shunned from different rooms — that this is a moment to see what is possible when you follow your heart and you take risks.

I hope that it’s just another indication of what is possible. Philip and I are indie musicians, we’ve built everything pretty much from the ground up. Lindsey is the same. And so this is just an indication to anybody out there that, if you have a vision for something, a passion for doing something, if you put your heart into it, you can achieve anything.

You three have spoken so in depth about taking risks and being trailblazers in your styles of music. With the risks you’ve taken and their payoffs in mind, what is something you are excited for in the next year?

LS: Personally, I’ve been writing a lot of music lately, and writing music, ironically, has always been really hard for me. I’ve always really struggled with self negativity. And it’s been really exciting that, for the first time ever, I’m not doing that. I’m enjoying the process, as everyone always tried to tell me I can and that I don’t have to be so hard on myself. I don’t know what clicked. Maybe the years of therapy have finally actually set in. Maybe it’s the meditation. I don’t know what clicked, but I’m so happy right now, just in general.

I don’t even have the fruits of the labor yet, I can’t even see if anyone likes anything I’ve written. But it doesn’t matter. I’m really just happy and I’m enjoying the journey, not just the destination. And so it makes me just really excited for not only this chapter, but what this chapter is going to bring with with my new music. Mostly I am so happy to be happy.

JM: Music is this incredible language. It’s this universal language. It’s how Philip and I met, it’s how we connected with Lindsey. I speak for myself, and I think Philip feels the same way, but we feel so lucky to do what we do, because we get to connect with people. I’m just so excited to be able to take that to the next level — whether it’s connecting with Lindsey and creating a new track that will move people or touring around the world.

I had a friend once that said to me, “There is no other job in the world like what you guys do where people stop everything that they’re doing in the day and just be in present and listen. And I think it’s just it’s the most beautiful thing, because we can get so overwhelmed with all the the noise in the world. So to be able to come down to the most essential thing, which is connection through music, is such a gift. And I just can’t wait to do more of that.

PS: One thing that I’m excited for is just to see how our music evolves by bringing in incredible collaborators. Because, as I mentioned earlier, essentially, up until this point, Jonathan and I, we have been solely working and writing together. We’ve been allowing our sound to mature and evolve. But now I feel like we have reached that with our record last year. Now this year, we’re collaborating already with so many incredible people, and putting all these new ingredients in the dish, and we’re getting inspired in different ways and pushed in different ways. I’m excited in a year’s time to look back and say, “Wow, there were ideas and worlds that we didn’t even know were going to be open, but through collaboration, we were able to find that.”