On a warm Wednesday afternoon in May, Naomi Scott and I settle into the cushioned-banquette corner of a dim wine bar in New York. Scenes of the city unfold outside the window behind the actor and musician, who’s just turned 33, and is about to enter an exciting new chapter in her artistic career. Her sublime debut album, F.I.G, came out in March, and she’s embarking on her first headlining tour, starting at The Roxy Theatre in Los Angeles on June 10. “The people the album is reaching feel at home with me. It feels so good,” she tells me. Her relaxed sense of confidence extends to her look for the day: a striped rugby shirt with layered sleeves, dark jeans, sneakers, and small gold hoops that catch the light cast on our table from an electric lamp. Her wavy, pastel-pink bob bounces as she laughs and says it could use a little touch-up.
F.I.G is a long-awaited arrival from Scott, whose public profile has largely been shaped by films like Lemonade Mouth, Aladdin, Charlie’s Angels, and Smile 2. The title stands for “Fall Into Grace,” a nod to Scott’s middle name, but it also captures where she’s found herself creatively right now. Across 11 tracks, she explores longing, uncertainty, desire, and self-discovery through vignettes that blur the line between memory and fantasy.
“Putting out a body of work where I am now is great, because I know what my intention is,” Scott says. “The visuals and everything have come from me and my small team of people—it’s exactly what I want. I’m making music for myself.”
Naomi Scott
Raised in London by parents who were pastors, Scott grew up singing in church and listening to gospel music from artists like Mary Mary and Kirk Franklin. Her musical diet also consisted of Prince, Janet Jackson, Kate Bush, Kelly Clarkson, and Peter Gabriel. “I need a more soulful melody,” she says.
While working on F.I.G, she enjoyed the freedom to express and truly own her sound. “There wasn’t some A&R guy saying, ‘Maybe you should work with this old dude,’” she says. “I was very much following who I thought was cool.”
One of those people was Norwegian producer Peder Losnegård, professionally known as Lido. Scott reached out cold, sending him a Dropbox folder full of demos. “Most people I work with come up with the idea and write the song in the studio the same day,” Lido tells me on a Zoom call. “It was refreshing to get the skeleton of so many amazing songs before we’d even met. I could see what this could turn into from the very beginning. It’s lush and emotional.”
The pair bonded over gospel tracks and ’80s and ’90s tunes. “One of the first conversations we had was about the music that was on her dad’s Windows Media Player,” Lido says. “That became a North Star throughout the whole thing. Does it fit in that playlist and that world?”
Their shared vision led to a record that feels both nostalgic and contemporary. Distinctly different from Scott’s weighty Smile 2: The Skye Riley EP project, F.I.G drifts on airy yet deeply textured production. “We wanted it to feel nostalgic, but not too derivative,” Scott says.
Lyrically, the album embraces ambiguity and unresolved feelings that linger. On “Bliss,” Scott laments a love with unfulfilled potential; “Rhythm,” a duet with Johnny Yukon, pulses with cautious attraction; and other tracks like “Losing You” and “Gracie” tap into themes of self-assurance.
A still from the “Call for Me” video.
F.I.G’s pared-back visuals are “so DIY,” as Scott puts it. In her new music video for “Call For Me,” she rehearses while dancing in a black veil, Adidas capri track pants, and a red sports bra. Her movements shift from slow and seductive to frenzied and unrestrained. Much like the album, the video allows feelings, not explanations, to take center stage.
I ask what three years of making the album protected creatively, especially in a world that rewards speed and visibility. It’s all about trust, she says. “We all have our own taste. And I have the confidence to know that if I think something is good, ultimately the real ones will get it.”
Throughout our conversation, Scott is animated and effusive. She tells me to listen to Fabiana Palladino and Tora-i, among others. Her husband, Jordan Spence, eventually swings by with a bag of fast food and nudges a box of waffle fries my way; Scott insists that I “take some chips.” Before we know it, nearly two hours have passed, and any semblance of formality has been shed.
Scott hopes that kind of familial spirit will carry into her tour. The production won’t be elaborate, she says, describing it as a “girl in process” show. But one thing is for sure: “I want people to dance,” she says. “I want people to let go.”
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