Olivia Rodrigo, Chappell Roan, Rosalía. If you’re not living under a rock, there’s a good chance you’ve heard of these pop icons, who sell out stadiums with earworm-inducing tracks that dominate streaming platforms as much as they do the cultural zeitgeist. They are also solo artists—marking a profound shift in the fabric of female singer-songwriters in the 21st century.
But for every Taylor Swift or Laufey out there, there are countless artists who don’t enjoy the benefits of a ravenous fanbase or billions of streams online. These are the musicians working in the background, putting their nose to the grindstone to create art that’s as meaningful as it is underrated. Their efforts are no less deserving of your time and energy.
First things first, though: what does ‘singer-songwriter’ even mean in 2026? Simply put, it describes musicians who write and perform their own work. At the turn of the century, as music’s celestial body began its slow descent across the event horizon of dying radio waves and MTV, the term might have applied to artists like Jason Mraz, Jack Johnson and Iron & Wine. Rewind further, and you arrive at the prototypical ‘white guy with a guitar’, albeit with greats such as Bruce Springsteen and James Taylor.
Now, it’s anyone’s game. Do you sing? Do you write songs? Well, then, you’re a singer-songwriter. The folksy formula of days long past has been forced to evolve with the times—the genre is no longer stuck within the confines of soulful warbling accompanied by the gentle strumming of acoustic guitars. And, crucially, both whiteness and maleness are no longer prerequisites for success.
New slices of the singer-songwriter pie are cropping up daily. Thunderously glacial shoegaze filtered through used MIDI keyboards bought off eBay (see Della Zyr from South Korea). Gridlocked electronic production forged in the mathematical crucible of digital audio workstations like Ableton (see Wu Zhuoling from China). The tried-and-true classic of ‘guitar plus vocals’ still looms large, too, but new generations are carrying that torch forward with a regional flair (see Fazerdaze from New Zealand). Unfortunately, despite the wealth of talent on display today, the hard work of making music remains an uphill battle for everyone.
The great myth of the modern age is that social media has placed the podium of success within everyone’s reach. Alas, the truth is far stranger—and far more unforgiving—than this fiction. When all is said and done, we all need to eat; we all need a roof over our heads. And if you’re going solo, then you need to grapple with marketing and outreach, administration and logistics.
Therein lies the crux of the issue: how does one make a living as a solo musician? Genuine, creative self-expression isn’t always enough to put food on the table, especially when the price of living continues to skyrocket. You could work your creative muscles down to the bone, but if you don’t get that record deal, if you don’t properly manage tour costs, if you don’t catch your break, what then?
What happens to the calling when it no longer provides material relief? Is authentic artistry even feasible in a world actively being consumed by the gaping maw of the oligarchy? Many would say the endeavour would be a thankless fool’s errand. But music, like all art, is a pursuit of passion. To those truly invested in the practice, the value of millions pales in comparison to a life well-lived—to small satisfactions like a song sung well.
For your consideration on this front, dear reader, I present to you: Regina Song. She is one of the artists who would argue that pursuing music today is still, in fact, possible. In the face of a world that pulls no punches, she knows what it takes to remain herself, boldly and unapologetically. Why should it matter if corporate culture refuses you entrance to its rat race? Success, defined by modern metrics, be damned.
At 22, Song’s mature sound belies her youth. But never let it be said Gen Z isn’t holding their own against their older millennial cousins. While many of Song’s peers are embracing alt-rock from the ’90s and ’00s, her sensibilities are rooted in pop and R&B. The result is music buoyed by just the right amount of band arrangements (think cleanly riffing electric guitars and catchy bass lines) filtered through finely tuned electronic production, all underscoring a lilting voice made confident by youth. In a nutshell: excellent pop.
I spoke with Song to get a closer look at what makes the singer-songwriter clock tick—and how the role continues to evolve in an ever-changing musical landscape. Read on for her perspectives on everything from the shifting dynamics of the singer-songwriter and social media’s impact on the art form to the importance of solidarity in supporting artists, as well as the state of Asian representation in the industry today.
On her creative journey
My music journey has been intense, but fulfilling. I was always writing songs as a young girl and I knew deep inside that being an artist was my calling. Three years ago, I started with minimal knowledge about the music industry, just doing random things here and there to see what would work out. I was fresh out of school and had to learn to support myself fully, which meant that I had to make things happen. But I had so much passion and drive. Right now, I’ve been through my fair share of sweet and rough experiences. I am a little more exhausted, but I still feel that same fire that was ignited in me three years ago. My relationship with music is ever-growing.
On her love for music
A much younger version of me would say that I did music because I felt like I was good at it. I didn’t know what else I would do if not for music. But as I continued to consume and create music, I gained so much admiration for the craft of making music and writing it as well. I fell so in love with capturing a feeling in the moment because that’s such a fun way to document life, and my life in particular. As I continue to release more music, I’m also receiving more fan letters and messages telling me how my music has helped them through a period of their lives. I think that has become one of the most fulfilling aspects of being a singer-songwriter and it’s what keeps me going.
On the term ‘singer-songwriter’
The main responsibility of a singer-songwriter is to turn stories, theirs or someone else’s, into something meaningful. But of course, being one in this era demands a lot of things. For example, you have to be your own marketing person, admin person, A&R person, and occasionally your own stylist and make-up artist. So yes, there’s a lot of ground to cover. Most singer-songwriters I know are extremely well-rounded individuals.
On her sound
Everyone has different perspectives and experiences, which in itself is natural to come up with unique material to write about. My approach to writing would be what I take pride in the most. I enjoy how I get to tell a full-length story with chords and melodies in under five minutes. My sound is shaped by so many things. It’s raw and poetic, and it works with the stories I like to write.
On material solidarity
Direct support means a lot to artists because it means that someone is actively consuming their music, and buying into their world and vision. Usually, that also means interacting with the artist on a personal level, which will always be more meaningful than just consuming their art online. One example is paying to attend a live show. I feel that artists would love to play shows for free, but unfortunately there are costs to cover when organising shows. Buying tickets is a way to directly support our dreams, and that’s moving. I also think that something not talked about enough is how much the real-life support for that artist will give them newfound motivation to keep going. I realised that whenever I feel down, all it takes is for one person to come up to me or write a note to me saying that they like my music.
On social media
At the start, I saw it as a boon because it felt like the world was my oyster. But now, I feel that I’m constantly chasing something that I don’t even know exists and it has drained me mentally a few times. Sometimes it feels like I become creative because I have to be, which might not be the best thing to do as an artist. I just think it’s a pretty ‘Asian’ thing to want to be productive all the time. But I do find that connecting with the people I care about makes me feel more at ease with myself. Actually talking to people makes for a good kind of escape from trying to just be productive.
On fame
It’s magical being able to connect with my listeners with my own real stories. There’s just something so odd, but cool, about it. Because it’s literally just like: “Hey, here’s my diary, what do you think?” To me, fame feels like a responsibility to be a good influence. I feel like I want to connect to others so that I can learn new perspectives and grow into a better individual. That’s exactly what I wish to spark for someone else. If someone can listen to the bridge of my song and realise: “You know what, I’m gonna find forgiveness for this person because I still carry love”, that matters to me.
On representation
We have come a long way. When I think of the context of the music industry, I think about the Western music industry and English music. With social media, almost anyone with any background can have a voice. Representation is extremely important and there’s been a rise in Asian representation, not just in the music ecosphere, but in entertainment in general. There are Asian-led music labels and groups at various scales that are dedicated to developing and supporting Asian artists, and many international platforms and stages for them to shine. The rise of K-pop has helped in the West especially. At the same time, I still feel that it’s harder to be an Asian singing English music. It’s more uncommon. And I’m not sure if there’s something we can do about that.
On her inspirations
I’ll say Olivia Rodrigo, Jennie and Audrey Hobert. I just love female artists, their writing and their voices. Their vision for their own music inspires me to make my own. Something about their melodies are so memorable to me, and I find their melodies lingering in my head for hours on end. I like how Olivia makes it clear that she stands for female empowerment, and actively demonstrates that. Audrey seems to have a magical notebook and a glitter pen when it comes to songwriting. And I think that Jennie is iconic and she’s really paving her own path. Their stories are all really inspiring to me.
On aspiring musicians
I would say, keep writing and find stories that you want to tell. And do it because you love music so much.
The September 2026 ‘Beyond the New’ edition of Vogue Singapore is available online for pre-order, and on newsstands on 10 September.
