London-based artist Shao Hao turns identity into art with Where Is My Home — a raw collision of Brit-pop grit and K-pop fire, fueled by the ache of belonging and the will to be seen.
It’s the sound of a 17-year-old who left China to chase music in the UK — now an artist who refuses to shrink. After penning hits for Stefanie Sun, Angela Zhang, and Power Station, Shao steps into his own light — queer, neurodivergent, and unapologetically raw.
With Where Is My Home, he turns displacement into defiance — a letter to his younger self, and to anyone who’s ever felt in between.
We caught up with Shao Hao to talk identity, healing, and the wild, brave act of finding home in your own voice.
I’m obsessed with contrast. I love when a song feels like a movie but still speaks like a diary.
Where Is My Home cuts deep — what moment made you turn that feeling of not belonging into a song?
It started with a thought of writing a letter to my 17-year-old younger self — the kid who left China alone to chase my dream of music in the UK. For years, I kept asking myself, “Where do I truly belong?” Even after becoming a British citizen, that question never stopped echoing.
Brit-pop grit meets K-pop fire — how did that collision become your sound?
It honestly happened naturally. Growing up in Asia, I absorbed melody and emotion the way K-pop and Mandarin-pop do it — every melody line carries a story. But moving to the UK exposed me to the raw honesty and grit of Brit-pop. So when I write, I instinctively blend both worlds. It’s how my two homes sound when they meet in one song.
You’ve written hits for major names — what pushed you to step into your own spotlight?
For a long time, I believed my job was to help others tell their stories — artists like Stefanie Sun, Angela Zhang, and Power Station. They are the chart topping artist in East Asia. But early this year, I realised I was hiding behind other people’s voices. I had all these stories about my identity, diversity and belonging that no one else could sing for me. So Where Is My Home became my way of stepping out — and I want to use my voice to make a change in the world.
The track bleeds ache and defiance — were you healing, confessing, or fighting back?
All of them. Writing it was a form of healing, but also defiance — like saying, yes, I’ve felt lost, but I’m still standing. It’s about reclaiming your story when the world tells you you don’t fit in. The ache comes from honesty, but the power comes from choosing to turn that pain into light.
Moving to the UK at 17 — how did that shift shape the artist you’ve become?
It completely changed how I saw music and myself. Back home, music was a passion; in the UK, it became my survival language before my English was fluent. I went from being the “different” kid to someone who found connection through songs. That experience taught me empathy, resilience, and why I care so much about making music that heals and includes people who feel like outsiders.
How do queerness and neurodivergence feed your art instead of boxing it in?
They make me see and feel the world differently — and I think that’s my superpower. Being queer and autistic means I process emotions deeply and often notice beauty or pain in small details others miss. Instead of hiding that, I’ve learnt to channel it into my music. Every lyric, melody, and vocal moment comes from that heightened sense of sensitivity and honesty.
Your sound flips between cinematic and intimate — what keeps that balance steady?
I’m obsessed with contrast. I love when a song feels like a movie but still speaks like a diary. So even when the production swells with synths or guitars, I always make sure the vocal still has its details. It’s that balance between grandeur and vulnerability that makes the emotion land.
After years behind the curtain, how does it feel to tell your own story, your own way?
I feel like I’m one step closer to achieving my dream. I’ve always wanted to make a change in the world through music — to use my own voice to heal people, to tell my story and truth. When fans messages me after a show and says they feel seen through my songs and thank me for making them feel ok to be different, it reminds me exactly why I started this journey in the first place.
Where Is My Home holds loneliness and power — what do you want the outsiders to hear in it?
That it’s okay to not have it all figured out. That being “in between” — between cultures, identities, or emotions — doesn’t make you lost; it makes you human. I want anyone who’s ever felt invisible to hear Where Is My Home and feel seen, proud, and enough.
If this is the start of a new chapter, what’s next — rebellion, rebirth, or total reset?
All three. S.H.17 — my upcoming project — is a time-travel code take me back to the age I first moved to the UK. It’s rebellion against fear, a rebirth of identity, and a reset of how East and West can connect through music. I’m just getting started — and this time, it’s fully me.
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