Eight years into her career, Song Yuqi has shown no signs of slowing down. The 27-year-old from Beijing first turned heads with her signature curly perm and that unmistakable, magnetic voice—and she’s spent every year since proving there’s a lot more where that came from. In 2024, she stepped out on her own with her debut solo album YUQ1. Now, her second mini-album is almost here, and she’s pouring fresh energy straight into Mandarin music.
Confident, fearless, refreshingly honest—Yuqi is the kind of artist you can’t look away from. Since her 2018 debut, the world has fallen for her one-of-a-kind voice and that big, open-hearted personality. Between the dazzle of the stage and the quiet grind of songwriting in the studio, she’s built a life with many dimensions, and her unfiltered authenticity resonates deeply with a generation that’s redefining what it means to live true to yourself, on your own terms.
Your second mini-album drops later this year. Where are you at with it right now? And how does it push past MOTIVATION and YUQ1?
By the time this interview is out, it’ll be right on the edge of dropping! Since it’s my second mini-album, I leaned my song choices toward a more homegrown sound and the age group my fans are in—the kind of R&B everyone grew up on, plus a few nods to the artists who paved the way before me.
So it’s a more emotional, more personal record?
Not entirely—but yeah, a piece of my own journey is definitely in there. This album is the story of me at 27: the things I want to capture and pass along. Listen from the first track to the last, and you’ll notice the lyrics all connect. The running order, the meaning buried in the words, the concepts behind the MVs—every little detail is intentional.
Top, pants, earrings, bangles, belt, bag and shoes, all Tory Burch.
Why make this mini-album now? We heard you wanted to revisit your childhood musical memories. Which ones inspired you?
For this one, I chose to write and express myself in my mother tongue. It just fits where my head and heart are this year. There’s a full-length in the works too; I simply flipped the order. I never want to release an album just to release an album. Everything moves at the pace of my life and my mood. It happens naturally.
The past couple of years, I’ve been lucky enough to guest at some senior artists’ concerts, or just sit and watch them perform, and it hit me how those timeless songs have a power that outlasts everything. I’ve gone from a little girl to a grown woman, and they still get me. That’s the magic of music—it’s a time machine, carrying memories from one generation to the next. So I want this album to hold that same weight, that mix of emotion and time. There’s so much we can’t fully put into words or writing, so why not let music do the recording? Honestly, I can’t wait for 20 years from now, when my fans and I press play again. I wonder what memories we’ll have, and how we’ll remember Yuqi at 27.
Funk, R&B, hip-hop—you move between genres a lot. How do you land on the sound of a song? And is there a thread that ties your music together?
I’m not the type to get one melody stuck in my head and force a whole song out of it. I’d rather write a bunch of melodies in different styles first, then pick the one that feels like me. Late at night when I’m in my feelings, I go melodic, more R&B. Sunny, happy day? I’ll make something poppier, or rock, or country. It’s all over the place, really.
As for the common thread—on this album, I’d call it empathy. I wrote and composed every track myself. I’m no professional lyricist, and I don’t have that fancy, polished way with words, but I still wanted to pour in the most honest emotions, the ones people can actually feel. I did go back and forth on whether to bring in a pro to make the lyrics prettier—but in the end, my songs should come from me. Sometimes the simplest words and the most direct way of saying something are what really land.
From “LOST” and “Giant” to “Radio (Dum-Dum)” and “M.O.”—how have you changed through the creative process?
My mindset has never changed—not from the very first song to now. I started writing to document my own life. I’ve never written for the group’s sake, and I’ve never written just for my own sake either. I got into songwriting because there were some brutal moments growing up when I had nowhere to let it all out—so I put those feelings into melodies and lyrics instead. That’s the intention that’s never moved.
Craft-wise, sure. I’ve met more incredible producers and like-minded people, dug into way more genres, and made a lot of creative sparks fly. My skills have levelled up, no question. That’s just me growing alongside my music.
Coat, top, pants, earrings, bangles and shoes, all Tory Burch.
After all these songs, is there one you’re proudest of?
I’m proud of every single one; I’m not unhappy with any of them. I don’t create to chase a hit, and I don’t sit down trying to engineer some earworm. That’s just not how I work. Of course it’s amazing when people love a song, but if it doesn’t blow up, no regrets—they’re all my babies. Maybe that’s exactly why every track feels like the me of that moment. I could never rank them.
That’s rare—a lot of creatives are never satisfied, always feeling like something needs fixing.
I think “satisfied” just means different things to different people. Some measure it by how much a song gets sung, others by public reaction. That’s not my nature. I’m a real perfectionist. Once I decide to release a single, it means I’m ready, and the second it’s out, I feel: everything is ready. Anything I put out for people to hear, I’m 100% behind. Whether it takes off comes down to all sorts of factors—how melodic it is, whether it clicks with people. But so what if it doesn’t click? It’s still mine, and I still love it.
So once it’s out, do you track how it does? Do you read the reactions?
Of course. But it’s more like one of life’s little pleasures. I’m a curious person. New things, what people think of me—I want to know. I love reading the comments and the feedback; it lets me see the world from another angle. But that’s all it is. It doesn’t change a thing about me.
“Radio (Dum-Dum)” is a good example—it got so much love, and I genuinely didn’t see it coming. One day the composer and I were writing, and I just went, why not try this melody? It came together fast and totally on instinct—lyrics and all, done in under two hours. Can you really say a good song is one the reviews decide is good? I don’t think so. With music, there’s no right answer.
“Honest” and “genuine” are words people keep using for you. How do you feel about that?
My way of expressing myself is genuine. People love to say that as an artist, you’re supposed to keep your emotions in check—don’t show the unhappy side on camera, don’t be too much… But this is just who I am, and I love that I’m sincere. I won’t call anything good or bad, because everyone’s standards are different. When you call me genuine, it makes me happy. That means I like it.
People say genuine people are more likely to show their weaknesses, their vulnerability. Do you agree?
What’s so wrong with being “vulnerable”? It’s not an emotion you have to hide—who’s strong all the time? I’m a person; I’ve got a happy side and a soft, fragile side too. The world’s huge. Why would I need everyone to understand me? If I meet even one or two people who value honesty, that’s enough. I won’t force everyone to like me, because liking someone is out of your control; you can’t dictate how other people feel. At the end of the day, it’s about being at peace with myself. My way of expressing myself feels right to me, and even if it hurts sometimes, that’s just part of life. Nothing to cry over.
Top, pants, earrings, bangles, belt, bag and shoes, all Tory Burch.
Photographer: Liu Song
Fashion Director: Sean K
On-set Stylist: Foxla Chiu
Makeup Artist: Siho
Hair Stylist: Hyena
Executive Producer: Second Li
On-site Producer: Oolong Jang
Producer: Harrod To
Photography Assistant: Shixin Tian
Production Assistants: Weiwei He & Kinho
Editor
Ke Wu














