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Perhaps the scariest thing about being an artist is staring at the blank page. It can feel good—wonderous—to create. But to do so, one must have something to get down on paper, literally or proverbially speaking. For writers, that blinking cursor is a foe. For painters, the blank canvas. For musicians, it’s silence or a lyric sheet without words or notes. But for acclaimed songwriter and performer Ben Harper, the only way around this worry is to never stop writing.

Harper, who will release his next LP, Bloodline Maintenance, on July 22, writing constantly is the only way to combat the looming worry of never being able to write again. A river can’t dry up if it’s constantly flowing, right? Similarly, Harper has something to say. It’s not just language he puts down on paper but meaning. So, just as his creativity won’t dry up if he’s constantly at it, so too, his efforts at making statements won’t either. This is evidenced in his new album, a stunning work that elucidates much of the Black American experience, as well as Harper’s own personal journey.

When Robin Campbell, guitarist for the legendary reggae band UB40, was growing up in the city of Birmingham, U.K., music was everywhere. He was “born into it,” he says. His father was a “reasonably successful” folk musician with a band and his own club to play in. Campbell remembers sitting on the floor as a kid, listening to his pops and his band rehearsing in their home, too. Other musicians would play his father’s club, also in Birmingham, and then stay the night at the Campbell’s.

Meanwhile, all around, in the ether practically, Campbell would hear ska and reggae music emanating from the windows of homes. There were a lot of immigrants living in the neighborhood, he says, and Jamaican music would fill the space between the residences. Of course, English pop music from the ’60s and Motown would mix in, too. But Campbell loved reggae and so did his friends and family, many of which would go on to form UB40. Ever since, the band, which is set for a new U.S. tour this summer (from August 18-September 18), went on to sell 100 million records, earn Grammy Awards and leave an imprint on music forever.

Few performers in the history of Hollywood have experienced careers with the length and breadth of Corey Feldman’s. The well-known celebrity began doing commercials at the age of three, including for McDonald’s. Later, he became a child star with movies like The Lost Boys, The Goonies, and Stand By Me. He voiced Donatello in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie. He was a teen idol, gracing the covers of many magazines. And he was famously friends with Michael Jackson. But that doesn’t mean his life was glitzy and glorious all the time—in fact, far from it.

Now, though, he’s beginning a new chapter. He has a mantra: Discover, recover and discard. He talks about giving things up to God. And underscoring all that work is Feldman’s reprieved role as a songwriter. Lately, he’s released several new singles, shared plans for a new six-disc box set and has announced a 20-plus-stop tour, spanning August through September. For someone who’s lived a tumultuous life with high highs and low lows, Feldman is poised for what’s ahead of him. But all of that begins with his very first love: music.

When Beyoncé calls, it’s safe to say the future is likely going to be different. New Orleans-born songwriter and performer Big Freedia knows that twice over. The emcee known for her Bounce prowess was featured by Queen B in the hit single “Formation” in 2016 and in Beyoncé’s latest single “Break My Soul,” which dropped last month. The achievements have bolstered Freedia’s visibility, both as an artist and as an ambassador for causes from LQBTQ+ concerns to her latest as the face of Independent Venue Week, which is slated this year from July 11-17.

For Freedia, whose latest solo releases include the EP Louder in March 2020 and Big Diva Energy in September 2021, the commercial appeal is important. For years, she was an underground artist in New Orleans, working from club to club. Now, she’s a bright star, whose lumens are only getting more and more pronounced and iridescent.

Language is a form of technology. The elements that make music are, too. These truths are both the precursors and underlying foundations for the latest work from poet-actor-musician Saul Williams, who, with Rwandan actress and playwright Anisia Uzeyman, has created a new film and accompanying soundtrack that juxtaposes ideas of liberation, technology, and traditional African languages and sonics, which then, in turn, offers a mind-bending window into how work gets done. The film is called Neptune Frost and the soundtrack is called Unanimous Goldmine: Original Soundtrack to Neptune Frost. The former dropped last year, and the latter was released on July 1. But the origins of the work go back to Williams’ childhood, a time when, around 1980, he first began to learn about songs, stage plays, and Shakespeare. The son of artists, Williams was supported when he expressed his interest in creativity as a possible profession. Little did he know then that his Magnum Opus would find the world some 40 years later. Now, it has.

For Ketch Secor, the longtime frontman for the old-time music collective Old Crow Medicine Show, to write songs is to walk with the gods. While it may be physically impossible to sit down and write a song with past legends like Merle Haggard or Ray Charles or even, to work with living legends like Bob Dylan or Dolly Parton, it’s possible for songwriters to somehow musically and creatively tread in the same metaphysical waters. For Secor, it’s as close as you can get to sitting in the parlor with these giants. That was true when he wrote Old Crow’s 2004 hit, “Wagon Wheel,” which he credits Dylan with co-writing (Dylan recorded the chorus in 1973 that Secor later built the song from), and it’s true for the latest Old Crow album, Paint This Town, which the group released on April 22. For Secor, to do the work is celestial, and the only way to live.

Songwriter, comedian, actor, and all-around creative person Tim Heidecker cares most about process. The products of his work are secondary. Yes, they are what’s consumed by the audience and how he and his like-minded colleagues support themselves. But more than those aspects, Heidecker cares about the moments when he’s elbow-deep in the work.

He says the phrase “Don’t look back” is something of a guiding light. But that mantra can’t always be the reality, given Heidecker’s most recent work, his forthcoming new LP, High School, which he’s set to release on Friday (June 24). He’s not one to examine his past body of work, he doesn’t want to get tripped up on it. Instead, he’s willing to mine his past for new work, as he looks ahead down creative roads. So, while his new album is of the past, it’s also a part of his future and may, in the end, even portend what Heidecker will do next, artistically.

For Tarriona “Tank” Ball, frontwoman for the Grammy-nominated band Tank and the Bangas, everything began when she stole a glance at her older sister’s private diary. The two shared a bedroom growing up, so when Tank had the chance, at 11 years old, she peered through the handwritten pages. In them, she found stories, poetic lines, and general expressions that sparked her imagination. She wanted to do that, too—write. Today, Tank can still remember some of the lines. It was those diary entries that would inspire Tank to write her poetry, which then took her to the New Orleans open mics where she would meet her future bandmates. And on May 13, Tank and the Bangas unveiled their latest studio LP, Red Balloon, which showcases the group’s lush sonic chemistry and Tank’s knack for poignant lyricism.