Moving to London at 17 didn’t just change Shao Hao’s postcode; it rewired his sense of self. Now splitting his voice between Brit-pop intimacy and K-pop scale, the London-based songwriter has quietly shaped No.1 hits across Asia while learning how to speak honestly for himself. On his new single ‘Where Is My Home’, Shao Hao turns inward, unpacking immigration, queerness, neurodivergence, and the slow, invisible process of belonging.

You moved to the UK at 17 to study music. What was the exact moment you realised London wasn’t just a place you lived, but a place that would shape your entire identity?

There wasn’t one dramatic moment. It happened gradually, as I fell in love, as friendships rooted themselves, as people here made me feel safe and understood. Those everyday experiences stitched London into my sense of self. The city’s diversity, the lessons learned through both failure and success, and the community I found here slowly reshaped me. London shaped me gently, slowly, and completely.

Your new single, ‘Where Is My Home,’ is brutally honest. When you wrote it, were you speaking to your past self, your future self, or someone else entirely?

I was speaking directly to my younger self, the 17-year-old who wasn’t sure who he was yet, who felt different, lost, and very alone. Writing the song felt like travelling back in time to hold his hand and tell him he was going to be okay. But at some point, it stopped being just about me. It became a message for anyone who has ever felt out of place or unsure of their identity. I wanted them to hear the song and feel less alone too.

Your sound sits somewhere between Brit-pop grit and K-pop maximalism, a rare combo. What part of you belongs to each genre?

The Brit-pop side of me is the storyteller. Living in the UK from age 17 taught me to write in a very direct, emotional, almost diary-like way. My songs often come from real moments, feeling “in-between,” struggling with identity, trying to belong, and that honesty is very British to me. The K-pop side reflects how I grew up musically in Asia. I’ve always loved strong melodies, warmth, and emotional intensity. Writing for Asian artists taught me to be meticulous about hooks, structure, and dynamics. Blending them feels natural because it reflects my life. I’ve spent half of it in the East and half in the West, so my sound simply became the bridge between them.

You’re open about being queer, neurodivergent, and an immigrant. Which of those parts of you was the hardest to write into your music, and which one gave you the most freedom?

The immigrant part has been the hardest to write about. Leaving home alone at 17 shifted everything: identity, belonging, even language. It took years before I had the emotional vocabulary to talk about that feeling of being caught between two worlds. ‘Where Is My Home’ is the first time I faced it so honestly. The part that gives me the most freedom is being neurodivergent. I’ve always processed emotions in a slightly different way, and instead of hiding it, songwriting lets me lean into it. It helps me see connections other people might miss and express things in my own logic and rhythm. Queerness sits somewhere in the middle; it’s a part of me that I never want to turn into a “brand,” but it’s also given me the courage to exist on my own terms, which naturally shapes the music.

You’ve written No.1 hits across China, Singapore, Taiwan, Malaysia, and for major artists like Stefanie Sun and Angela Zhang. What did writing for others teach you that writing for yourself never could?

Writing for others taught me deep musical empathy. I had to step into someone else’s emotional world, their voice, their story, their way of expressing feelings. It pushed me to listen more carefully and to write from perspectives beyond my own. But writing for myself requires the opposite muscle. It’s about unlearning some of the rules and techniques and allowing the song to be raw, vulnerable, and completely honest. The combination of both, empathy and honesty, is what shaped the sound of my artist project today.

Mandopop, J-pop, Brit-pop… you’ve navigated wildly different musical cultures. What’s one creative rule you break no matter which world you’re writing for?

For me, I always put melodic emotion first. In pop music, that isn’t always supposed to be the top priority, because there are formulas people expect. But I believe the emotion inside a melody is the one thing that truly travels across cultures and breaks language barriers. So no matter whether it’s Mandopop, J-pop, or Brit-pop, the feeling within the melody leads the way.

Your visuals feel fashion-forward and sharp, almost cinematic. Does style lead your music, or does the music shape the look?

I’m a very visual person. I love fashion and spending time in modern art galleries and museums. For me, visuals and music are a two-way conversation. Sometimes a song arrives with its own visual world, colours, mood, and atmosphere. Other times, the visual concept helps me understand the emotional tone of the music. Especially when I sing, I often close my eyes and try to imagine what kind of movie scene these lyrics would envision. Overall, I see visuals as an extension of storytelling. My music often explores identity, nostalgia, and belonging, so the aesthetic naturally becomes organic, emotional, and slightly cinematic. I often look at an artist’s visual world and immediately know what their music will sound like. I want my visuals to do the same, to feel authentic, intentional, and true to who I am.

For young queer or immigrant kids discovering you now, what’s the one thing you wish someone had told you when you first left home at 17?

I wish someone had told me that you don’t need to erase any part of yourself to fit in. When I first came to the UK, I tried so hard to adapt that I almost lost parts of who I was. It took me years to realise that the things that made me feel different, my background, my identity, even my struggles, would one day become my strength, my unique talent, and the reason I could connect with people through music. So to anyone who feels “in-between”: there’s nothing wrong with you. Just keep working on becoming the best version of yourself. Your identity isn’t a flaw or a problem to solve; it’s your superpower.

Watch ‘Where is my home” below: