Tone Glow 205: xavisphone
An interview with the American producer about the thrill of baile funk, ditching the pop music industry after writing hits for Ariana Grande, and his new LP on Modern Love, 'balança e paixão' (2026)
xavisphone
xavisphone is the artist name for Xavier Herrera (b. 1995), an American producer born to Brazilian and Dominican parents currently based in Marseille. Herrera started his career making “type beats” on YouTube with the Norwegian producer Payday. Those tracks got picked up by rappers like NLE Choppa, and through this success, he eventually made his way into the American music industry writing songs for pop stars like Ariana Grande. He stepped away from it all in 2022 and began uploading baile funk songs in 2025 to his Soundcloud. His prolific output got noticed by Modern Love later that year, and they released his debut album, balança e paixão, this month. The LP’s A-side is comprised of previously released tracks from his Soundcloud, while the B-side features new productions that take on, at least in part, a dubbier feel. Joshua Minsoo Kim spoke with xavisphone via Zoom on January 17th, 2026 to discuss the ingenuity of baile funk, the difference between writing songs in Brazil and America, and the making of his debut album.
Joshua Minsoo Kim: I know you were born in Boston. Can you talk about your experiences there?
xavisphone: I wasn’t in Boston for too long. And I was actually born in Beverly, which is right outside of Boston. But where I lived when I was little was Lynn, and I don’t know if you know anything about Lynn, Massachusetts, but it’s known as a warzone. Not a lot of positive things, and a lot of people try to get out of there, which is what my father did—it was just me and him for a little bit. I don’t remember much; I remember my grandma was there helping out, but it was a situation where we weren’t trying to stay too long.
So where’d you move to after Lynn? And how old were you?
This is where it gets a bit tricky. I was in Lynn, and then my dad joined the military and, from there, we went to North Carolina when I was 4 or 5. My dad met my stepmom in the military and they were both stationed in different places, so I would go between them and staying with family. I was in Fayetteville, North Carolina, I was in Upstate New York for a little bit, near Buffalo, and then I was in Georgia—both Columbus and Savannah—so I was able to get some time in the South. Then around 7, I went to Colorado Springs, Fort Carson, and then we went to Buffalo again, and then Tennessee is the last place where I started high school. That was near Knoxville.
So you’re traveling around a lot as a kid—how was that for you?
Honestly, it was a blessing. I was able to understand humans really, really well. And in America, you have such a wide diaspora and you realize there’s tons of types of people and ways of thinking. The only downside was that I didn’t have a core friend group, but the other side of that is that my parents are my best friends. It was just us; we’d pack up the car and move across the country. I talk with them every day.
Are there qualities of your parents that you see in yourself?
Oh, yeah—we’re workaholics. They don’t play (laughter). They’re very growth-minded; they always wanna learn new things and educate themselves. Growing up, I’d visit tons of national parks and historical monuments, and when it comes to music, I’d be in the backseat of the car and my dad would be playing new music. My mom comes from a completely different background from my dad, so she’d show us new music, too. I was soaking everything up; it was just constant data (laughter).
What was your dad and mom listening to?
My dad’s CD collection had Outkast, Monica, all the old neo-soul stuff. When my dad was in the Army, 50 Cent came out and I was a kid listening to Get Rich or Die Tryin’ (2003). But there was also John Mayer. My dad discovered Drake before everyone else did because he was a feature on this Colin Munroe song [“Cannonball”] and that was early. Chester French, Fall Out Boy, Bush. My mom was listening to reggae, Smashing Pumpkins, the White Stripes.
When did you first start making music yourself? I know that you were making beats when you moved to Hawaii, but what happened before that?
I know that I was always musically inclined because of my dad. Being a grandchild of immigrants, I was going to school with medicine in mind—not by choice. Growing up, my parents were always looking out for the family, so for me and my siblings, my parents worked really hard to finance music lessons and things like that. I remember watching School of Rock (2003) with my dad when I was like 9. I was like, “Yeah, that’s tough.” I wanted to play drums first and my parents were like, that’s way too loud, so they got me on guitar lessons when I was 9 or 10, and then piano when I was 12.
I grew up playing in church a bit and then I did high school choir. I didn’t really like to sing, but what I did like was playing the instruments for talent shows and other performances at school. I was behind the scenes telling 14 or 15-year-olds to sing George Michael. The parents in the crowd would be like, “That’s tough but why are these kids singing George Michael?” (laughter). I didn’t really know what I was doing to be honest. It was more like, “Okay, your voice would sound good with this arrangement.” I was just goofing off. And then when I got to Hawaii, I was going down a biology route and I was on a scholarship for cross country. One day, I was on my moped while I was going up to school on the North Shore, and I got hit by a car. I had all this free time, and what I did was make beats. I was around 21.
When you had the accident, was making beats the immediate thought that you had to fill your time? You could’ve still played guitar or the piano, so I’m curious what was going through your mind.
What happened was that I lived in Brazil for a little bit, tapping into my roots. One thing that really hit me was being around so many people who were so musically inclined. There are people that are way more talented, way more capable than me who would die for a smidgen of the opportunity that I have, so when I came back from Brazil I thought about that. Me and my dad went to the music store together and I got Ableton. When I was in the accident, I got depressed and gained 40 pounds because I’d always been an athlete, I was always in my body, so I had to hyperfocus on something else. Music was the natural outlet. I was listening to the radio and I was like… I could figure this out (laughter). So I wanted to see where this could go.
How old were you when you first went to Brazil?
I was 18 or 19.
Was there anything about your time in Brazil that really made you want to commit to music?
People were just happy, they were having a good time. It’s not deep, and it not being deep was what made it the deepest thing ever—it was uncomplicated, total fulfillment. And I saw this a lot in Hawaii too with Polynesians. They’d just grab a guitar and we’d link and sing. We’d be on campus or on the beach, and they weren’t trying to make a show of it or document it; it was just about existing.
Are there specific things from your time being an athlete that you think translates to you being a producer?
I was a cross country runner, so more than anything it was mental. If you want something, you just do it. In this new chapter as an artist, I don’t really do promo—I’m on private. I don’t really be putting myself out there, I just show up every day because I love it. It’s about mental endurance, understanding that there are going to be terrible days, there are going to be great days. It’s just like sports—there are gonna be days where you’re gonna perform awful, but what’s important is the consistency. And I learned this from my dad: it doesn’t matter if it’s gon’ be a good day or a bad day—you gotta show up.
You mentioned how you were hearing songs on the radio and that you felt you could do that yourself. What songs were you hearing that made you think that?
I remember I had a musical epiphany when Waka Flocka and Lil B were out. When Lil B came out it was like, you can do whatever. When I was in high school, I remember he dropped a tape that had like 100 songs [2013’s 05 Fuck Em]. He was on some different sauce. And it’s not like he was technically the greatest rapper ever, but it was the uniqueness, it was the swag. One of my favorite singers is not a singer—Mos Def. His voice, just because of who he is, is so tough. You can do whatever, you just have to be you.
Black on Both Sides was the first rap album I ever loved, and it’s still one of my favorites.
And it hasn’t aged—it just is. It’s a piece of musical history that will forever be.
What year were you born?
’95. I’m 30.
What sort of stuff were you doing first with Ableton?
Lots of baile funk, some R&B, and trap, naturally. I was trying to do some acoustic stuff but it was mostly just funk and rap. I started posting beats on my Soundcloud because I was listening to a lot of Shoreline Mafia, a lot of West Coast stuff. It was the Shoreline Mafia beats that got people tapping in. I started linking with Shoreline when they came to Hawaii, and I got some of my first placements with them, 1Take Jay, and AzChike, who’s goin’ crazy now. I remember AzChike pulled up to Hawaii and I was driving him around. To see where everyone’s at now is crazy.
Funk was always something that came naturally to me, but being raised in America and trying to think of how I could profit… funk was always on the backburner. There was no market for this, and I needed to get paid for school and so I could eat. At the very beginning, I had a bunch of songs out in Brazil, but it just wasn’t my focus. I just did it for love. One of my very first songs was on a compilation project with WC no Beat, who’s based in Rio, and it was with Anitta and Djonga [“Cena de Novela”]. Anitta’s the queen out there and one of my beats randomly got there. It was little things like that where it was like… God has been incredible. God has been omnipresent in my life. I show up and I work and I know that a lot of it is circumstantial and luck. Me just randomly making beats, I posted one on Instagram and WC is following me and he’s like, “Send that, I wanna work on it,” and then Anitta’s on it? That’s not normal.
So when did you get fully enmeshed in the music industry? I know your biggest hits were in the early 2020s.
I was making collab beats on YouTube with Payday, a Norwegian [producer]. We were making trap beats—I was sending him loops and we made a bunch. They went crazy on YouTube; our “type beat” instrumentals were getting millions of views, and I was makin’ these piano loops in five minutes. One of those beats, NLE Choppa used for “Shotta Flow 5,” and then another one of those beats… you ever see that meme of Rick Ross dancin’ in the studio? That’s me and Payday’s beat. These boys are rappin’ on it, and then Meek Mill reposted it, and then [DrewBoy] got a label deal.
I happened to be in LA at the same time as young boul—I’ll say “boul” because he’s from Philly—and my homie sends me this page like, this is your beat. I DM the manager and told him I was in LA. And this was random because I was living in Hawaii and he was livin’ in Philly. I pulled up, I had my computer, and we made seven songs in one night. Who happens to be there signing DrewBoy? TBHits, Tommy Brown, who was responsible for “Thank U, Next.” He was like, “What are you doin’?” I told him I was in school and in Hawaii and he was like “fuck school,” and he signs me. I move out to LA, they help situate a place for me, they give me tons of studio time until I find my label situation, and then guess who’s ending their world tour the same time I’m getting there? Ariana Grande. She walks into the house like, “What’s your name?” “Xavi.” I’m a pisces, she’s a cancer, and it works. “34+35,” “West Side,” and a bunch of other songs that never came out. From there, my life changed.
What was the process like writing songs for Ariana Grande? You were getting placements with artists in Brazil and the US, and you’re making a wide range of music, so I’m curious what was going through your mind for a pop star like her.
I was not takin’ that shit seriously at all (laughter). I never listened to her. I’m not a pop person at all, but she was cool, and the people we were workin’ with were mad cool. It was mostly jokes. If you look at “34+35,” it’s Shoreline Mafia drums, just simplified (laughter). Peter Johnson came in, and he’s a great composer. He puts up a loop and she said she wanted something more raunchy, more upbeat, and then in 10 minutes I crank out a quick little drum loop and I don’t know where this idea came from because it was so dumb, but I was like, “What about 34, 35?” Everyone thought for two seconds, did the math, and were like ohhh. And there you go. So I did the hook. I wasn’t tryin’ to make a hit, it was just fun.
Was that something you were doing a lot? Like in terms of the drum programming, you were always just doing stuff that was based on your interest in LA rappers? And then you were translating that to pop hits?
I think it was just natural, because before I got there, and after I got into my car accident, I made 3000 beats in two years that have never seen the light of day. It was just muscle memory, like okay that makes sense for me, the 808 is in key, it’s got some bounce to it, and if the artist says it’s cool then the artist says it’s cool—don’t ever argue with the artist. I’m just here by the grace of God, y’know?
So what sort of things happened after all the songs with Ariana? I know you eventually left the industry.
I left in 2022! I got depressed! I was not there for long. I didn’t have to worry about bills for a little bit, but then I realized that I didn’t wanna do this. They started puttin’ me in pop sessions. Like I had a session with Sabrina Carpenter, and it was cool but that’s not me… I don’t wanna do pop! Especially mainstream pop! It has to go through these specific calculations, and the A&Rs don’t even A&R, it’s all stats. They’re just looking at what gets numbers, like literally! Like bruh, if it works and it pays your bills and your family’s good—amazing. I’m not tryin’ to shit on anything. But musically speaking, and especially from the humanistic space of art… we gotta try a little harder.
What was the most demoralizing session you had? Was there a moment where you realized that things were truly messed up?
I don’t know if there’s a specific session, and even if I could think of one, I don’t think I would say it (laughter). But I think it was just a culmination of nights just me doing something I didn’t love. When it’s big artists like that, it’s all hype and people are tryna work and it turns into this ego thing. Like bro, I only have 24 hours in a day—this is not what I wanna be doin’ with them. But I had to do it a little bit, I had to play the game. From the outside, you don’t know what’s goin’ on inside the house, and then you get inside the house and it’s like… it’s cool, but I don’t wanna do this for the rest of my life. It’s an amazing opportunity for me to learn things, to grow and to expand, but I can’t do this as a career. I don’t think anyone should ever be in a fixed space for their whole life, though if they are, they should find a way to grow within that space. I think evolution is something that every living creature goes through, and you might as well make it a positive experience instead of a negative one.
I love hearing you talk about this because you just mentioned loving these musicians in Brazil and Hawaii and it’s just a major contrast to the experiences you had in the pop music industry. Was there anything you learned that you felt was crucial, though, from being in these pop music spaces?
Yeah, quality. Sound design. When you’re around these professional engineers, these mastering engineers, you pick up little tricks about how to get things to sit in the pocket. I was soaking up a lot to make things sound polished, clean, and digestible on a global scale. I was going from session to session and seeing different workflows and plugins and working with different writers, seeing how they structured stuff. Not everything you learn is good for you, but there are things that resonate with you, like, “Oh, I love how these kicks, these 808s hit in this pocket.” And then it’d be like, okay, how can I do that? How can I bring my own touch to it? It’s like anything—mastering your craft takes a lifetime. I haven’t mastered my craft yet, but I’m trying to get there. Masters are not some young folks, y’know? It takes time.
Is there a specific song you made from this period that you’re especially proud of, that you still really enjoy, even though you don’t listen to much pop music?
Yeah, “West Side” by Ariana Grande. I made that beat two years prior in Hawaii. I was with my homie who has a crib in Hawaii Kai. I remember I made the beat—it was a collab between me and my homie from Rotterdam who sent me a sample that I flipped. I put it in my folder. Ari was asking for beats and I played it and she loved it. And why this was amazing for me is because, I been had it! I’ve had it! Sometimes you want that validation, like “Oh, I know I’m a good producer and songwriter because it’s a hit.” But no, I was always great, I just didn’t have a label with $250,000 to push it on everyone. That’s when I was like, oh, I can do whatever I want. I felt like I had freedom.
So you get out of the industry in 2022 and you’re depressed at this point. What do you do now to get out of that funk?
I bought a dog, a golden doodle. The sweetest, cutest boy ever—Benito. He was like a spiritual guide through everything. I was going on hikes and runs with him daily. I eventually link with my acquaintance who’s half Brazilian as well. We just started making music and called it our early retirement because we were slowing things down and seeing what we could do. Luccas Carlos would come up and I’d have sessions with him. My friend Laudz from Tropkillaz, I was making a lot of music with him. I was just making music with people I love and who I’m fans of. It was like hangin’ out. At the end of the day, every producer is just a nerd in a dark room pressing buttons, blowing out our eardrums. I fell out of love with music for a little bit and I needed to fall back in love at my own pace. I was lookin’ at different jobs, wondering if I should go back to school.
The connection with Laudz makes sense. Tropkillaz always has this way of knowing how to merge funk with contemporary pop ideas. There’s a lot of crossover appeal with their stuff, for people who don’t even know what funk is. I’m thinking of a song like “Bola Rebola,” for example.
They’re geniuses. That’s the thing when it comes to mixing genres or making a genre more digestible to the masses—there’s genius in simplicity. It’s not what you’re doing but what you’re not doing that makes the most impact. That’s what I learned from Laudz.
I know the first stuff you made was funk, so what was it like to go back to that after all these experiences you had? What were you able to bring to this style now?
There’s a level where your taste is at and another for your skillset, and you’re trying to get them to match. Before, I had heard so many things I didn’t know how to do. And now after the last year, I feel like I have more of a notion. That’s my goal with music: I have my taste, and I just want my skill to reach that. With all experiences, you may fail or succeed, but they all serve the next thing you’re trying to do.
How did you link with Modern Love, then? That’s such a strange pairing, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that.
I’ve only been posting my stuff on Soundcloud for a year and a few days. I started posting regularly on January 11th of last year. I was posting 3 or 4 songs a day, and that’s the thing about the industry—do you know how many great songs I have that never see the light of day? You wanna leak it but then there’s legal stuff, and I’m just like, bro, this is some really good music! I made a promise with God. I’m gonna do my best, I’m gonna drop everything, and whatever you think is what it is.
So I started in January but then I got hit up in April by my homie Zac, who’s a promoter, and he was like, “Hey we wanna bring you on.” And then the second day I’m in Marseille, I get this DM from Modern Love. The first side of the project is songs I had already made, and for the second side they said they wanted to do a dub version. A year and a half before, I heard an Andy Stott song at a coffee shop and I was like, whoa, what is this? I Shazam’d it and I fell in love with all of Andy’s stuff. It was a nice full-circle moment.
How did you decide on the stuff that was on the first side of the LP? Did you just pick your favorites or were you trying to have some sort of coherence there stylistically or thematically?
That was Shlom [Sviri] from Modern Love. He told me his favorites and I was like, okay cool. For me, I’m not even thinkin’ about it. I’m just makin’ beats (laughter). It’s a big blessing and I love having music out, but I just wanna make new music and try new things—I’m like a little kid. So he helped with that for the first side, and then he gave me ideas for the second side. I cooked up some ideas and he was like, tough, it works. It was pretty easy.
I also appreciate how much this is reminiscent of Lil B. I imagine it’s freeing to not worry too much about polishing the product. You’re just putting it out because you made it.
And it’ll polish itself out. That’s the thing for a lot of artists—they get stuck in the perfectionism. Like, nobody cares bro! If you really made it and this is really you, you can just show up again tomorrow and do it again.
And the thing with funk is that if you’re someone who’s listening to it, you’re already accepting of whatever’s there. The perfectionism doesn’t actually matter, and in fact, if it doesn’t sound “perfect” it might sound even harder.
The thing about funk is that a 12-year-old can get a fucked-up microphone, say whatever, make a beat on some torrented thing on his PC, and it’ll blow up. The playing ground is equal. It’s fair. If you get it, you get it. If you’re tough, you’re tough. The industry in Brazil is the same as in America—obviously there’s politics and labels and all that stuff—but funk is the great mediator.
What is it like for you to make funk music as someone from America? With any genre, there are going to be people making music from the place where it’s originating from, and then there are those who are removed from the context and there can be something novel that arises from that, too.
I’m gringo! I never say, “I’m Brazilian, I’m from Brazil!” I was not raised in the favela, I was not raised in these situations. I know that. Am I extremely privileged? Absolutely. And it’s just about owning it, it’s about doing it for the love of it, and I’m not faking it. People see that and they don’t question it.
What sort of things do you think you’re able to bring to funk as a result of your unique circumstances?
Bro, ask me in five years (laughter). I have no idea bro, I’m just fuckin’ around. I remember the first time I listened to Chief Keef and Waka Flocka, it was just like… wow this is tough. And I think I’m bringin’ my own sauce to it. I was able to write with the world’s biggest pop star and then a few months later I was in these studios in the favelas making baile funk, so I feel like I’m interlinking these worlds. And with Modern Love dropping baile funk… people are becoming familiar with things that they’ve never been familiar with before. My name, Xavi, is spelled with a “c” in Portuguese which then means “key.” I’m dedicating my life to help people understand the other side, y’know what I mean? I’m acting as a bridge. And I’m not saying that like, “I’m Kanye West!” But everyone has something like that in their life, where they’re part of a community and they think about their own aspects, and then boom.
What is it like to work in the studios in the favelas compared to the pop industry sessions?
It’s so much more fun. It’s a party. We’re drinkin’ and it’s funny as hell. We wouldn’t really start sessions until 10:30PM and we’d finish at 4 in the morning, and when you’re in that headspace when it’s late at night, everything is more lucid and fun.
Were there specific producers you feel like you learned a lot from during your time there?
I didn’t have much time to consistently work with the same person. But there were some people during Zoom sessions, like there was one kid, DJ LEAL ORIGINAL, I think he’s 17. We’d just figure out different drums, different plugins. DJ DAONZE, he’s a homie of mine too and it’d be the same thing.
I love that you’re working with producers who are that young.
There’s this dude who just turned 14, DJ ISAACZIN DA ZN, and he’s incredible! One of the hardest producers out there right now, especially in funk, and he’s 14! You know with putaria funk, his mom goes to church so he has to put the volume down because the lyrics are a bit edgy. He’s just in his room and that shit’s crazy.
So what’s next for you?
I think this Modern Love thing will help me get my name out a little bit. I did shows and I’ll probably do more. Ultimately, I’d like to have my own sound, so instead of me having to work with artists, they can hit me up. That way I don’t have to do the whole cat-and-mouse thing. And if those things are successful… well, everything is successful upon completion, that’s just the way it is. And that’s the thing about funk—it’s always evolving. Someone’s gonna introduce something tomorrow and it’ll change everything forever. It’s like a video game that never ends, like the map keeps getting bigger. So big picture, it’d be cool if this could sustain me and my future family. I got a girlfriend I take very seriously, I wanna marry her, I wanna buy a house, I wanna support that, and if it works out then I’ll do that, and if not I’ll find another job on the side.
Can you talk about the live shows for me? There’s that interview from last year that you did with Three Fourteen where you said you’re not really a DJ.
I’m not. I can definitely fake it though! (laughter). And that’s why I don’t call myself a DJ. There’s people who can spin vinyl and people who can really work a CDJ, so if those people saw me they’d be like, this dude’s garbage (laughter). But I can fake it, because when I see a DJ, I see their transitions and it gets me hype, but I don’t think the average person is gonna be like, “Fuck this DJ, he doesn’t know how to transition. I’m outta here.” If the music is good, the music is good. That’s where my focus is. But as with everything else, I’ll also get better at DJing.
How much of this is you playing your own productions versus other people’s music?
It’s back and forth—me and then my homie. I’ve always been the dude that’s like “pass me the aux” because I always wanna show people what I’m listening to.
What is it like for you in Marseille right now? I think it’s the most beautiful city in the world.
You’ve been!?
Yeah, I was there for a film festival a few years ago. And of course I spent a day in Cassis checking out the calanques. It’s obviously really beautiful just being near the water and always seeing that church on the hill. I remember that when you’re going through the city, there’s one point where you’re on this street and it’s where all the North African restaurants are.
I live right up the hill from there! Marseille is like an African Hawaii, it’s so tough. I also got super lucky and fell in love on my second day there. I flew out early to play at Fête de la Musique, and then it was on her street that we saw each other. She happened to follow the collective that I was in and it was a wrap.
When did you move there?
So I was there for Fête de la Musique at the end of June, and even back then, when we met, we already knew what it was (laughs). I’d already minimized all my stuff, because the year before I was doing funk and living in Brazil and there were the fires in LA. So I was ready to go, I was ready to move, but I didn’t know where. I was ready for a change.
Do you think there’s something about living in Marseille that’s changing anything about you and the music you make?
I think it’s just humbling me. I’m not good at French, and I’m still learning but there’s a learning curve. And nobody gives a fuck about you in Marseille. You can get slapped, y’know what I mean? I’ve seen like eight or nine fistfights. You get what you give, and everyone is someone and you just move with kindness. I think it’s shaping me in a way to be super appreciative of the small things. Happiness isn’t in the titles, and it was the same thing when I lived in Bahia and Hawaii. True fulfillment is in just being, and not in chasing anything.
Do you mind talking about the cover art for the album?
Ahhh, good question. “balança e paixão” was my motto going into last year, “balance and passion.” I just wanted my life to be balanced, but I still wanted to have that spark of life, that passion. I made a mood board on Pinterest with all these places I was from—Brazil, the Dominican Republic, Hawaii, all these places that shaped who I am. I was talkin’ with Shlom and the cover is a volcano that’s on, I think, the big island in Hawaii, and it’s when the lava is hitting the water. And that’s when you create new land. You have these two contrasting elements and then there’s smoke. Every human does that naturally, y’know? They take what they are, they’re in contact with something that’s new, and even though it can be painful and violent, it ultimately creates new ground. And it creates new ground for who comes after us.
I end all my interviews with the same question and I wanted to ask it to you. Do you mind sharing one thing you love about yourself?
Okay, Mr. Kim with the questions! My fault! (laughter). That’s a really, really good question. Something my dad always told me is that I was always laughing as a baby. Of course I can deal with sadness, and I do—every emotion is vital to our existence—but I have a propensity for joy, for laughing. Things could always be worse. There were points in my life where I wasn’t sure about things, but I was always optimistic, and I’m really grateful for that. I don’t know where that comes from, but it’s something I do love about myself. I always find the silver lining, or at least I’ll try.
xavisphone’s debut LP, balança e paixão, is out now via Modern Love. The album can be purchased at Boomkat. xavisphone also regularly uploads music to Soundcloud.
Thank you for reading the 205th issue of Tone Glow. Balance and passion.
If you appreciate what we do, please consider donating via Ko-fi or becoming a Patreon patron. Tone Glow is dedicated to forever providing its content for free, but please know that all our writers are paid for the work they do. All donations will be used for paying writers, and if we get enough money, Tone Glow will be able to publish issues more frequently.
What a stellar run of interviews over the last week!