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Interview Music

Interview with Francesca Fey of Goth Lipstick

Music fans all over the world were collectively shell-shocked after receiving the news that experimental avant-pop artist and trans pioneer SOPHIE had passed away on January 30th of this year. SOPHIE was constantly challenging peoples’ pre-conceived notions of what pop music could sound like, pushing pop into the ether with elastic, hyper-industrial production and catchy, anthemic melodies. Her work was sacred to many LGBTQIA+ music lovers, myself included. Millions of young queer kids who looked to her as a guiding source of light are still reeling from the loss.

But SOPHIE’s mission to push pop to its most exaggerated, bold, and bright state, is not finished. Just look at the legion of protégées she’s left behind. Maximalist hyperpop acts who followed in her wake, like 100 gecs, Black Dresses, and several artists on the PC Music roster, have all released game-changing records and amassed large cult followings over the past couple of years.

However, the most exciting new bands are the underground acts bubbling to the surface, ready to take the world by storm. Enter Goth Lipstick: a duo on the rise made up of two friends, Francesca and J. The duo has released two full-length LPs and an EP over the past year. Their newest album, crystalline corset, is a syrupy-sweet masterpiece with sporadic production that delves into themes of self-doubt and queer liberation. The watery, crunchy synths and infectious pop song structures are juxtaposed against devastating, angst-ridden lyrics, narrated through various characters Francesca has created from her imagination. With songs like the sugary “catgirl goes to college,” and the menacing and masochistic “10 years,” the album takes the listener on a journey of self-discovery through the musings and personal failures of a young queer person.

I was fortunate enough to chat with Francesca from Goth Lipstick, and we discussed a myriad of topics ranging from her love of classic jazz, to her favorite anime characters, and idolizing Joy Division and the 1975.

Izzy: Let me just tell you how obsessed I am with every single track on this project. It pretty much encapsulates everything that I love about the way that pop is progressing. I would love for you to walk me back to the moment when you and your bandmates decided to make a full project and release it. What drove that motive?

Francesca: After we had put out our first album, Decidere, I was actually really disappointed with it. I had been going for this deeply-emotional concept and it just didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to. Then I decided that I had to do something that I would ultimately be proud of. My first idea was to write a concept album about dystopia. I wrote the song “10 years” in one afternoon. I hadn’t [yet] conceptualized the album, but that was the starting point. From there it was just a matter of writing instrumentals that I liked and trying to tell stories through songs that were unrelated to each other.

[Creating these characters] was a good way for me to emotionally detach and feel more comfortable with writing really personal stuff.

– Francesa Fey

Izzy: I was reading that you had created different characters based on your favorite anime to represent your own personal experiences. How have these characters breathed life into these songs for you?

Francesca: So the idea of the album is that there are three characters: the catgirl, the transhuman, and the witch. They all represent parts of myself, but they are each based on a different protagonist from different anime that I’ve been loving lately. The transhuman is based on Genos from One Punch Man, who is a cyborg. I wrote the song “witch on a broom,” after watching Kiki’s Delivery Service, which is a Ghibli film about witches. [The song] “catgirl goes to college” is the most removed from this idea, but the ethos of the catgirl character was based on Aqua from an anime called KonoSuba. [Creating these characters] was a good way for me to emotionally detach and feel more comfortable with writing really personal stuff.

Izzy: The album is all over the place stylistically, which I love. You and I are both really big fans of Black Dresses and SOPHIE, and I can tell that they both influenced the project. I’m even detecting some emo and pop punk influences, especially on “past life / succubus.” Are there any specific artists you were listening to that you feel might have bled into this record?

Francesca: As you mentioned, Black Dresses, SOPHIE (rest in peace to a legend), 100 gecs—I feel like it’s almost cliché to cite 100 gecs as a hyperpop influence at this point, but I was listening to them a lot. Lots of nineties emo for sure. A band that I absolutely love is Saves the Day. I love their guitar tones and pop song structures. Also, the Pixies. When I listened to Surfer Rosa, I felt like I truly understood the value of mixing your drums really high. With tracks like “10 years,” I was blasting the drums to the top of the mix, and that was inspired by the production on tracks like “Gigantic” and “Where is My Mind.” [I was listening to] a lot of slowthai as well.

Usually when I sit down and decide, “I’m gonna write a song today!” it just never works… The best lyrics usually come when I’m least expecting them.

– Francesca Fey

Izzy: I was very drawn to how you were able to synthesize these lyrics that are very confrontational and also vulnerable against the backdrop of this incredibly sweet, bubbly hyperpop instrumentation. I hear queer euphoria, pain, ecstasy, and catharsis. What is the writing and recording process normally like for you. What does it do for you personally?

Francesca: Usually when I sit down and decide, “I’m gonna write a song today!” it just never works. And then if I end up coming up with anything at all, I’ll just scrap it and maybe save a line or two for later. The best lyrics usually come when I’m least expecting them. The song “witch on a broom,” is a track about feeling like a disappointment and a failure. I wrote that track after I went on a long walk alone. I passed an apartment complex near my house and I immediately wished that I was independent and capable enough to have my own place.

I sat down at my phone and typed out notes about how I was feeling, and those lyrics ended up being the metaphorical basis for the character of the witch. The instrumentals are very [upbeat] and contradictory to the [grim] lyrics, which was inspired by the band Third Eye Blind. They write incredibly devastating lyrics, but they’re always set to the most danceable guitar tracks. So that was a very conscious [artistic] decision.

Izzy: One of my favorite tracks on the album is “synthetic girls.” I especially love the glitchy, chaotic, noisy breakdown. How did that song come about?

Francesca: That was actually the toughest song to master. I came up with a great chord progression and a catchy melody, but I couldn’t decide which synthesizer to use. It took a couple of months to develop, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to sing over a track that was so noisy. I’m ultimately super proud of how the song turned out, because of how complex it is. There isn’t one chorus, it’s just a hook and a verse and then the breakdown. My hope is that people who listen to it will want to burst out dancing once that climax hits. That track was heavily influenced by Black Dresses.

My biggest hero is SOPHIE… to have that positive representation of somebody as creative and powerful as she was is very special.

– Francesca Fey

Izzy: So this is a two-part question: I was browsing your album topster the other day and was very impressed with how eclectic it is: we’ve got everything from hyperpop to classic rock, indie rock, emo, shoegaze, hip hop, jazz, post punk, the list goes on… Who are your top three musical heroes and if you had the chance to collaborate with any artist (living or dead), who would it be and why?

Francesca: I would say my biggest hero is SOPHIE. Obviously both of us are trans women; and to have that positive representation of somebody as creative and powerful as she was is very special. She was the person who inspired me to start making music in the first place. Also, Ian Curtis from Joy Division. I just admire his lyricism so much. Lastly, this is kind of an out-of-nowhere pick, but I love Matty Healy from the 1975. I feel like he is a bit of a controversial figure among music nerds, but I just think he’s really funny and clever. And his presence as a frontman in a band is what I aspire to be like. He’s just a funny guy who’s willing to be in the spotlight and have a good time with it. As for collaborating, I would love to collaborate with Miles Davis. I just think he’s a complete genius and I can’t imagine how wild a track that fuses glitchy noise pop and classic jazz would be.

Izzy: Last question: if you were assigned to teach a music history class, what is the first record you would send your students home with?

Francesca: Oh wow… I feel like this is such a boring, by-the-numbers pick, but I would probably just go with some Gregorian Chants. [If you’re teaching music history], you’d have to start far enough back to contextualize everything else. Unfortunately I only know of Pérotin, who was a composer of Gregorian Chants. But I don’t know if anybody has actually assembled any of his work into an actual record. If there was maybe a compilation, like “Pérotins Greatest Hits from the 1100s” or something like that, that would be it!

Goth Lipstick’s newest album, crystalline corset, is now available to stream on Bandcamp.

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Interview

AntiHana: Rewriting The Rulebook of Indie Pop

Pulling from glittery dream pop, disco and new wave, R&B, and the boisterous DIY ethos and aggression of punk and garage rock, the considerably impressive catalog of 23-year-old musician AntiHana completely transcends any label or categorization.

From the airy dream pop soundscapes of “WANNA SEE U CRY,” to the slinky bass on “Do U Want It,” and the simmering talking breakdown on the deliciously vengeful “Call Your Mama,” AntiHana does not disappoint when it comes to writing and recording deeply introspective and personal pop tunes that are incredibly fun to dance to.

I had the pleasure of speaking with AntiHana last week, and we discussed a myriad of topics including the beautifully sporadic nature of crafting different song stories, the liberating experience of channeling one of her most beloved rock icons for a music video, and the unmatched euphoria of nailing a songwriting session.


Q: What is the writing and recording process normally like for you, and what part of creating do you enjoy the most?

A: It’s truly different every song. Sometimes I create a beat and go from there, sometimes I’ll start with guitar, or bass, or keys. Sometimes it starts from the vocals – I’m constantly jotting down lyrics and recording little voice memos of melodies that pop into my head, so sometimes I’ll try to build something around that. And sometimes it comes from playing around with another person.

My favorite part of it all is when I feel like I’ve cracked something, when I’ve hit my stride with a song. Kinda corny, but it really does feel like it’s this thing coming from inside me and it’s just pulling me somewhere, like I’m barely even trying, it’s just pouring out of me. I get a legitimate buzz from it, like I’m high. That feeling is so precious to me that I actually have a bit of a fear that one day it’ll go away.


To be able to synthesize the confusing mess in my head and heart into something outside of myself, and that I can share with others, definitely brings some peace sometimes.

– AntiHana
Photo by Lukas Markou

Q: Would you say that your songwriting comes from personal experience, crafting fictional narratives, or a little bit of both?

A: Definitely a bit of both! Sometimes I write things that aren’t literally true but feel true, if that makes sense. I guess sometimes I play around with writing from different perspectives, or from the perspective of a persona. And sometimes it’s total nonsense that just sounds good.

Q: Your attitude and voice in so many of your songs is very commanding and incredibly fun. The talking breakdown on “Call Your Mama” is one of my favorite parts of the song, it reminded me a little bit of Robyn’s “Body Talk.” Would you say that writing and singing about exactly how you feel in ways that you might not always be able to articulate in daily situations is a cathartic process for you?

A: So cathartic! To be able to synthesize the confusing mess in my head and heart into something outside of myself, and that I can share with others, definitely brings some peace sometimes.

Q: What is the number one thing that you hope listeners will get out of listening to your music?

A: Dang such a good question. One of my favorite things I get out of music is when it makes me walk a little taller and strut down the street, fills me up with this feeling like no one can fuck with me, or when I’m driving in my car and it makes me and whoever’s in it dance or belt it out at the top of our lungs. If any of my songs could make anyone feel like that, that would make me really happy.

Q: Who would you say some of your biggest inspirations are songwriting and sound-wise?

A: Oh man there’s too many to list, but to name just a few: Blondie and Gwen Stefani, not just in their sounds but in their performance styles, are go-to’s for me. I grew up listening to David Bowie because he’s my dad’s favorite. The Strokes were the first band that ever knocked me out and made me go “wait someone else feels that exact way too? and they put it in a song?” Missy Elliott’s music was some of the first to give me the feeling I described in the last question and never fails to pick me up when I’m down. ABBA – I mean coooome oooon. Mitski – I’d love to hang out with her and brush each other’s hair you know? And what I would give to have Selena’s stage presence, to bring the same emotion to my voice, and oh my god to be able to dance the way she did on stage – pretty sure that will never happen for me though. I just don’t have it in my body, try as I might.


 One of my favorite things I get out of music is when it makes me walk a little taller and strut down the street, fills me up with this feeling like no one can fuck with me, or when I’m driving in my car and it makes me and whoever’s in it dance or belt it out at the top of our lungs. If any of my songs could make anyone feel like that, that would make me really happy.

– AntiHana
Photo by Tao Antrim

Q: Something you and I have in common is that we’re both massive Strokes fans, and I understand that they were part of the inspiration for “Heart in a Cafe.” I really loved the pulsing urgency in your voice/the production on that song (the music video is also immaculate). If you don’t mind, I would love for you to walk me through what creating all of that was like for you.

A: Okay so my last semester of college was in LA. I was at the 101 Coffee Shop, sitting at the counter, and, in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall, I happened to see Julian Casablancas walk by. I turned around just to see him leaving. At first I didn’t want to bother him but then I was also like what are the chances and when else am I ever gonna have the opportunity to tell him how much he means to me, so I ran out to see if I could catch him, but he was gone. They’ve been my favorite band since I was old enough to have a favorite band, so I got really excited and unexpectedly emotional, like some actual tears welled up. 

And then for my final project in one of my classes, about LA as a character in film, we could either write a paper or do a creative project. I definitely wasn’t trying to write a paper, so I wrote Heart in a Cafe. I didn’t end up getting the best grade on it because my professor was like wtf does this have to do with LA? But I hit a stride with the song and I just had to keep going, writing more about my feelings for Julian than about LA. 

Our last week in LA, me and my friends Emme, Tallulah, and Morgan were bored and itching to make something. We had just watched Dominic Fike’s music video (the original one) for 3 Nights, and felt inspired by that, so we decided we were just gonna make something. We came up with the concept of throwing clothes at me, and me sort of becoming Julian in some way, or like an ode to Julian, fostering the masculine rock star living inside me (and dare I say in us all?). We drove up to the Hollywood Hills and did two takes, but that’s a joint I’m smoking, so after the second take I was… not fit to film another. The take we ended up putting out was the first one anyway. It was so fun. 

At the beginning of this month, the 101 became another tragic casualty of the pandemic. For me, a little piece of the 101 is immortalized in Heart in a Cafe. I hope it rises from the dead.

Q: Has quarantine changed the creative process at all for you, or has it remained more or less the same?

A: I’ve been using my extra time cooped up in my room to try to get better at guitar. Wouldn’t it be so cool if one day I could rip a solo on stage? Maybe one day…

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Interview

Lily Arminda on Songwriting, Snarls, & Her Latest EP, “Neighborhood”

The self-proclaimed soft-spoken songstress Lily Arminda is known for writing songs that immaculately weave poetry with intricate melodies that ecompass a myriad of emotions ranging from heartbreak to joy as she moves through different phases of her life. Hailing from Columbus, Ohio, Lily got her start opening for local bands and touring artists like Lucy Dacus and Benjamin Francis Leftwich. Her ability to imbue emotionally-crippling lyricism into subdued folk tunes like “Lullaby,” as well as write joyful, more upbeat dream-pop on songs like “Greatest Hit,” showcases her versatility. Her latest EP, Neighborhood, is an experimental collection of lo-fi songs that ruminate on her love life and navigating her early 20s in the Lower East Side of New York, where she now resides.

I spoke with Lily over email and we discussed a wide range of topics, including her songwriting process, working with Corey Kilgannon, and her biggest songwriting inspirations.

What was the scene like for you growing up in Ohio? Do you have any personal music heroes who were also brought up in your town? 

Lily: I grew up opening for nationally touring artists in my hometown (Columbus, Ohio) at local venues like The Basement and Newport Music Hall. I was more involved with opening for artists foreign to the local scene than to local artists. I wish I would have been more involved with the local scene growing up but have found that sense of community in the NYC music scene. I am a huge fan of the Columbus based band Snarls though. They’re making the Columbus scene cooler.

How old were you when you first learned to play, and what gave you the drive to continue?

LA: I started playing guitar when I was 15. I took a few guitar lessons at first but ultimately taught myself. Soon after, I taught myself ukulele and enough piano to get by for producing. Guitar was a little difficult at first but I kept at it because I knew that it would help me make the music I wanted to make. I was determined to be more than just a singer and playing an instrument felt necessary to my songwriting.

When I first heard your songs, it felt like listening to a descendent of Joni Mitchell. Who are your biggest inspirations, musically and songwriting-wise? 

LA: I’m really into artists who have strong lyricism. I can get pulled into a song sonically but lyrics that I resonate with are what tend to bring me back to a song. At the moment, I’m really into Matt Maltese, Caroline Polachek, and Samia. All of them have distinct songwriting styles that I admire as well as production that I am excited by. I’ve also been into Charlie Puth’s “Voicenotes” album recently. That album has shown me that mainstream pop music doesn’t have to lack integrity and the fact that he produces his songs at that level is really inspiring. 

When did you first link up with Corey Kilgannon and when did it occur to you that the two of you had great chemistry as a creative team? 

LA: I actually reached out to Corey when I was finishing up my senior year of high school because I was really invested in his music. He has a way of writing that feels very emotionally driven while self-aware which I strive to emulate in my own writing. I thought that we could make something cool together and that he would understand the sound I was going for. I stayed with him and his siblings in his brother’s house in Jacksonville Beach, Florida for a week or so during the summer before college and it was such a privilege to work with him and friend/engineer Jesse Montagna. They both listened to what I wanted which doesn’t always happen when working with producers (especially male producers) so it was so refreshing to be heard and understood by them while they helped me bring my project to life.

“Mismatched Poetry” seemed to have an acoustic folk sound, whereas “Neighborhood” felt more like indie bedroom pop. How do you feel your style and sound has evolved over the years and between projects?

LA: My sound changes from project to project but it always feels like a natural progression. It’s mainly related to whatever I’m into listening at the moment which changes a lot. For example, I rarely listen to indie folk anymore while that used to be almost what I listened to exclusively. These days, I’m more into dream pop, indie rock, and grunge which have all inspired my direction for my next EP.

When you are writing a song does it usually come from personal experience, and have you ever experimented with narrative storytelling from a fictional standpoint?  

LA: I tend to write songs from personal experience but I also love to experiment with making things up. Whenever I write songs from a fictional standpoint though, a little bit of truth always seeps through. I feel like I can’t run away from the fact that I almost always write songs as a way of processing, whether it’s a conscious choice or not. This means I always learn something from writing even if I’m not originally setting out to write about my life.

Has moving to New York changed your creative output given the grave change in living circumstances, or do you feel it’s remained the same? 

LA: New York City is the primary love interest in each song on my album “Neighborhood.” I feel a deep connection to living here as it’s the first place that’s truly felt like home to me. Living in New York has drastically changed who I am for the better and those changes have informed my songwriting process.

Your lyrical prose is a massive highlight for me, especially on songs like “The Ghost.”Walk me through your songwriting process; what does a typical day-in-the-life look like for you writing-wise? 

LA: Thank you so much! I write every day. This is only possible when I let go of my expectation for each song to be “perfect” and shift my definition of a song being “complete.” I’ve only learned in the past year or so that a song can be complete if it’s not perfect. This alleviates a lot of pressure that I used to put on myself which gives much needed space for me to be creative. I write music and lyrics at the same time which is the best way for me to get the emotion across in a song. I love freestyling songs and recording them in my voice memos and then either keeping them as they are or revising later. Revision is super fun for me, it’s fun to experiment with rearranging things and finding the most effective way to express myself. 

Do you feel being in lockdown has changed the creative process for you, or has it remained the same? 

LA: I’m writing about things I haven’t written so much about before. I’ve also found myself being more secretive about my unreleased music. I have a desire to surprise everyone with the songs on my new EP when it comes out. I was supposed to start recording a new EP in March but that was deterred because of the pandemic. Now that my producers and I are back in NYC, we’re ready to start recording (safely) and I’m beyond excited to see my music progressing in this way.

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Interview Music

Interview with Thomas Clark of Divingstation95

Memphis indie pop act Divingstation95 just released a collection of emotionally-wrought and meticulously produced songs that delve into topics ranging from death to revenge, body image, and mental illness. The album borders on art pop, post-punk, and even dark wave, with lyrics that ruminate on grim places ranging from funeral homes in Memphis to the remote wastelands off 1nterstate Highway 45 in Texas, also known as the Texas Killing Fields.

I was fortunate enough to chat with Thomas Clark, the creative force behind the project, and we discussed a myriad of topics ranging from the pandemic, to learning to play the violin at three-years-old, Radiohead, and the new album, Fear is My Constant Companion.

Q: So my first question is how would you personally describe yourself as an artist? What is your style, and would you classify your music in certain genres or do you believe you transcend genre? Who are your biggest influences?

A: I’ve been calling myself “doom pop,” which might be a bit pretentious but it’s the best description I’ve been able to come up with. I’m making pretty bleak music most of the time, especially with this last album, and even though it goes into abrasive territory sometimes, I usually try to make sure there’s a fundamentally catchy pop song underneath it. I think a lot of artists limit themselves by setting out to make rock, or hip-hop, or electronic music rather than just letting the ideas flow. For the most part, I don’t actively try to make any genre of music – I just use ideas I think are interesting regardless of where they come from. That’s part of why Radiohead are such big heroes of mine, I feel like they look at music the same way.

Q: I totally agree, and that’s a perfect segue into my next question. I have really enjoyed how you regularly post mini journal entries about your influences, like Xiu Xiu, Nicole [Dollanganger], and Perfume Genius. Would you say that Radiohead was the first act to disrupt the way you looked at music as a whole and your approach to songwriting, or were there others?

A: Definitely – Radiohead was the first really big one. I wanted to be a writer as a kid, and then I heard “Creep” in the video game Rock Band when I was 10 or 11 and that basically changed everything. I dug deeper into their catalog as I got older and it blew my mind.

Burial also changed the way I looked at music, the things I could do with vocal manipulation – initially I didn’t want to use my own voice, so I applied the pitch shifting and autotune techniques he used.

Xiu Xiu was another revelation for me, and the most recent one I think. I first got into them though their album Angel Guts: Red Classroom and was amazed by how it was both brutally harsh and deeply sensitive and empathetic. This was extreme and shocking music, but it wasn’t just trying to push buttons. There was this really sensitive soul to it underneath the harshness, and that set it apart from a lot of the very abrasive music I’d heard before. I had long been obsessed with the epidemic of sexual abuse in our society, the way it’s covered up and treated like it doesn’t happen at all (especially pre-#MeToo), and Xiu Xiu opened a door and provided me with a blueprint for tackling such horrible subjects in a way that was neither preachy nor insensitive.

Q: That was another thing I found extremely refreshing, the way you unabashedly tackled this bleak subject matter–whether it be sexual violence, body dysmorphia, or death–and I was wondering how important it is for you to purge those feelings in your songwriting. How do you feel you are able to find a balance in your life while tackling such harsh subject matter. Do you ever feel that you need to take breaks and decompress?

A: It’s definitely really important to get it out into music. I have obsessive-compulsive disorder, so I don’t let go of bad feelings easily. My life is pretty great compared to a lot of people, but I spend a lot of time struggling with internal problems. I don’t really need to take breaks because there’s nowhere to run, as bleak as that is. We live in a time when things are very, very bad, and to me music and art is a reason to keep going, even if the subject matter is awful. I feel best when I can listen back to a song and go, “yes, that’s exactly what I’m feeling.” It validates those feelings in a way.

When I hear a song like Giles Corey’s “I’m Going to Do It” (“it” being suicide), it doesn’t depress me. It makes me feel like someone else understands. That’s what I try to aim for.

One thing I do try to be careful about is desensitizing myself, because if I’m writing about Junko Furuta and I don’t feel anything, that’s a problem.

Q: I actually wasn’t aware of the Junko Furuta and Nikki Kuhnhausen cases until I heard the songs you dedicated to them on the album, and I remember being in disbelief at what happened to these women and also feeling guilty for not knowing their stories. Did you feel it was almost sort of a responsibility for you to put those songs out for listeners who may have not been aware as well? I would also love to hear your thoughts on the concept of “revenge” since the legal system that had a responsibility to deliver justice to these women is so fucked up globally.

A: Yeah, I’m never sure how to say this without sounding self-important, but I do feel some obligation to write about these things, because it seems like so often people just don’t care. I have conflicting feelings about true crime as entertainment, because I found out about several of the deaths on the album through the unresolved mysteries sub on reddit, so I’m likely as guilty of indulging in that as anybody else. But it bothers me that these things get turned into pure spectacle for people to gawk at and get a thrill from. I feel like people respond differently to music than they do, say, a podcast – there’s a more visceral emotional response there. Songs can get under people’s skin.

As for revenge – I’m kind of an angry person in a lot of ways, and the idea of merciless justice is pretty appealing to me as an idea even if real life is more complicated. The way things are set up now, there’s no real way to make sure any kind of justice is delivered – our system of dealing with sexual abuse is so broken that the only resort victims have left is to rely on public accusations via social media, which comes with its own issues. I liked the idea of a pure revenge fantasy where everybody responsible gets what they deserve with no ambiguity. I wanted people to feel the hate and rage in the Junko Furuta song – to deliver a reminder of its realness in a way that hits harder than just reading the facts to spook yourself.

Q: How did growing up in your hometown [Memphis] shape your music? What sort of scenes, if any, were you surrounded by and do you remember what age you started playing?

A: I’m from Memphis, but the internet was more formative to me than any live scene. I used to go on this long-dead streaming service called Grooveshark and just devour hours upon hours of new music while I did my homework, from The Smiths to Aphex Twin. I had a friend who knew more about music than I did, and I got a lot from her as well.

A ton of great music has come from Memphis but at the moment the only type of music that thrives there is hip-hop, a genre I love and respect but obviously don’t belong to. Every other scene is kind of backward-looking, like at the moment the feeling is “well, we had Elvis and the blues, so I guess we don’t really need to try anymore.” It’s cool that all that history has been documented and preserved, but turning an entire music culture into a shrine for the past doesn’t seem healthy to me.

I was about three years old when I first picked up an instrument – I played violin – and was composing my own pieces within a few years (though obviously they were all terrible, because I was a small child). I never had any interest in following it as a career until I discovered Radiohead, though. They changed just about everything for me.

My mom died when I was young, so I was a disturbed kid – getting into physical fights and things like that. I was depressed from a very young age, I just didn’t know that’s what it was. Music became an obsession because I saw myself in troubled artists like Thom Yorke – they made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It was like having a friend.

Q: I love what you said about musicians feeling like long-distant friends cause that’s exactly the same way that I felt about the third-wave emo of the early 2000s, as corny as some of it was, because those bands were accessible and singing about mental health in ways that felt real and not sensationalized or mocked like it was in mainstream media. 

The glitches and distortions on the production with the track “Me and My Fucked Up Body” felt like they obscured your vocals. I was wondering if that was intentional, since being vulnerable and laying bare a lot of those thoughts can be a lot sometimes.

A: Part of why the vocals are mixed like that is because I just think it sounds good. But you’re right that that’s another part of it – it can be really uncomfortable exposing those feelings to people. And it’s not telling strangers that makes me uncomfortable, it’s family members who might listen to it and think of it the next time they see me. This is probably the furthest I’ve come out of my shell, though – I could never have written “Me and My Fucked Up Body” or “Suicide Forest” a few years ago.

The next album is even more upfront, though it isn’t quite as bleak. I’m trying to be more confident in how I write about sex, which is maybe the absolute most awkward thing for family members to hear me sing about, but it’s kind of unavoidable – I have a complicated and tortuous relationship with my own sexuality, and for a long time I’ve wanted to get to a place where I can comfortably dissect that in my work. Nicole Dollanganger has been a big inspiration there.

Q: With “Overseas” in mind, I was wondering how you feel like the current political climate has affected your work with all that’s been happening globally?

A: “Overseas” wasn’t supposed to be the first single, but I ended up releasing it that way because it looked like we were about to invade Iran and start World War 3. I deliberately wrote it so it would be dated to a specific time – the narrator was born in 2003 and turns 17 in 2020 – as a way to capture the way things were at that moment.

Outside of that, I would say the political climate has influenced the music a great deal but mostly indirectly. The perpetual fear referenced in the title might not exist if our civilization weren’t hurtling toward destruction. I spent about a year paralyzed in terror over climate change, smoking as much weed as possible to squash the feeling, and though the album was written after that period was over I think it came out the way it did because I was in such a dark place for so long.

Q: Lastly, I noticed that you also have another project in the works and I was wondering how being in lockdown has changed your approach to creating. Has it made you more productive, or vice versa?

A: Honestly, my process hasn’t really changed much at all, because I’m kind of a hermit. If not for work, I would go lengthy periods of time without leaving the house. It’s an unhealthy habit, but I isolate when left to my own devices. I’m trying to get better about that, though at the moment I don’t have much choice but to stay in my old ways.

The new album is coming together way faster than any of the previous ones, and I’m not sure why, but I’m not complaining – it feels good.

Fear is My Constant Companion is available on all streaming services.