“Hey Lady” dives deep into themes of addiction and isolation through a Southern Gothic lens—what inspired you to tell this particular story?

That song came from a place I don’t visit often but always carries me when I fall. “Hey Lady” is about someone disappearing in plain sight. Addiction isolates in ways that even language struggles to touch—it frays your connection to the world, to people, to yourself. I wasn’t trying to write a message, just trying to paint the feeling of watching someone vanish while still breathing. It’s lonely music. Not about the party, but the silence afterward.

Your music feels like it comes from a very visceral, raw place. Can you walk us through your songwriting process—are these characters drawn from real life, or more symbolic representations of emotion?

They’re not really characters to me—they’re shadows I’ve known, or that have passed through me. I write from the images that stick behind my eyes. It always starts with a picture: a woman standing alone at a payphone, a man asleep in a car with the radio on. I see the scene before I hear the chord. Sometimes it’s real, sometimes it isn’t—but the emotion has to be. That’s the compass.

You’re working with Chris “Boo” Boosahda and Jonathan Tyler on this record—what has their influence brought to your sound, and how did those collaborations come about?

Boo and Jonathan are both people who understand the space between notes—the ache in the quiet. Boo knows how to hold a moment, (like he did with Shaky Graves )let it breathe instead of filling it up. Jonathan brought that edge, that desert rock gospel feel, but never pushed it too far. We all met through the strange gravitational pull of music—one song led to a conversation, a session led to a record. We weren’t chasing anything but the truth.

How does this new record compare to your debut, Jesse’s Hotel, in terms of tone and production? Did you approach the studio differently this time around?

Jesse’s Hotel was written in motion. This record was written in stillness. The tone is colder, sharper—more alone. I used to want to fill every space in the song. Now I let the silence speak. We tracked to tape, kept things raw, left in the rough edges. This one feels like walking through an empty house with no furniture and hearing your own steps echo back.

There’s a sense of myth and mysticism woven into your lyrics—how much does storytelling, folklore, or the landscape itself shape the way you write songs?

It shapes everything. Where I come from, stories were how people survived. Not by telling the truth exactly, but by telling it sideways—through parables, through whispers. The land carries weight too. I write songs like you’d sketch a map to a place that may not exist anymore. Sometimes I think I’m just trying to find my way back to something I lost.

The imagery in your songs is incredibly cinematic. Do visuals play a role in your writing process, or do they come afterward as a reflection of the music?

The songs come from the pictures in my eyes. I don’t write from sound—I write from vision. There’s a reel playing in my head: headlights flickering down a dirt road, someone smoking on a balcony at 3am, a motel sign blinking “VACANCY” into the void. The music’s just the frame I put around the scene.

“Hey Lady” feels like a deeply compassionate portrayal of someone in pain—how do you navigate writing about such heavy topics without romanticizing or simplifying them?

Pain doesn’t need polish—it needs presence. I try to write from that place where it still hurts, not from the other side of it. I’m not interested in tragedy porn or glorifying collapse. I’m interested in that quiet moment when someone is still fighting, even if no one sees it. That’s where the real beauty is. Not in the fall, but between the cracks.

How has being a Canadian in the heart of Texas influenced your artistic voice? Do you feel like an outsider looking in, or have you found a home in the Southern Americana sound?

I feel like a guest in someone else’s dream. Texas is vast, mythic, and strange—it welcomes you but never fully explains itself. That’s what I love about it. Being Canadian in this landscape keeps me aware of my own edges. I don’t try to fit in. I let the contrast work for me. The loneliness I carry from the North just found a different echo here in the South.

What have you learned about yourself through the making of this new record, especially in exploring such emotionally raw territory?

That I’m more fragile than I thought, and stronger than I believed. Writing this record didn’t save me, but it helped me sit with the things I couldn’t fix. I’ve learned to stop running from the quiet. Sometimes the loneliness has something to say.

With this record already shaping up to be darker and sharper, what do you hope listeners walk away with after hearing it from start to finish?

I hope it feels like someone sat beside them in the dark and didn’t try to fix anything—just stayed. I hope the songs feel like photographs of feelings you thought no one else remembered. If it leaves a mark, a stillness, a question—that’s enough.

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Congratulations on the release of “Relentless”! What does this song mean to you personally, and why did you choose it as the title track for the album?

Thank you! This song is a reminder of my resilience, persistence and ability to overcome. I was facing a particularly challenging time in my career when I wrote this and it gifted me renewed hope and faith in things to come. I had already finished writing all the songs for the album but serendipitously I was heading back to the studio that week to work on final vocals and told my producer that this song had to be part of the record and alas it made such an impact that it became the title track!

The video for “Relentless” was filmed on your property and features your horse, Cash. How important is your connection to the land and animals in shaping your music and storytelling?

It’s extremely important, especially being a rural based artist and born and raised on the land. It’s who I am and the only environment I truly know, it inspires me endlessly. Sometimes it’s not in an obvious way, yet even just writing all my songs from here allows the music to carry the energy of this beautiful place. I believe where you create from does have an impact on the art.

This is your second studio album, produced by Rusty Crook. How did the collaboration come about, and what was different about the process this time around?

Rusty and I have been working together from the very beginning of my recording career and he knows my music so well I couldn’t imagine recording with anyone else. He almost instantly knows which direction to go as soon as he hears the song and always brings out the best in my work. The first album was recorded over a few days at the studio and I’m still so proud of that body of work, however the growth and progress demonstrated in my new album is evidence that I’ve settled into my sound and style. This album was a slow and intentional unfolding. I’d drive down to Tamworth every few weeks and we’d only focus on a couple of tracks at a time. I think it allowed the songs to be really worn in and the process to unfold organically. That was important for this project and where I’m at as an artist.

You’ve described each track in the album’s track-by-track guide. Was there a song that was particularly challenging—or cathartic—to write or record?

The most challenging was probably ‘Can’t Fake That’, I rewrote that one a couple of times and it didn’t spill out as effortlessly as some of the others, but the end result was worth it. It was really good for me to practice editing and rewriting as in the past I’ve often left it sit too long and lost interest. Higher Ground, Someone’s Enemy and Relentless were all really sore points to write about, as I stated above, Relentless was a result of career challenges. Higher Ground was a song I wrote after facing the 2022 Northern Rivers floods and having to be rescued by a boat and watch a town I love destroyed by the biggest natural disaster we’ve seen in our lifetime. Someone’s Enemy was just me trying to process my feelings around a broken down friendship but it ended up so cathartic and healing and the feedback on that song has been really incredible, I’m glad it’s out there now for anyone who may be needing it the way I did when I wrote it.

You’ve been through some incredibly difficult times, including being rescued by boat during the 2022 Northern Rivers flood while pregnant. How did that experience influence your songwriting on this album, if at all?

As stated above, Higher Ground was the track dedicated to this experience. Honestly it took me a while to even start talking about it, let alone write about it. But 11 months later I was ready to put pen to paper and I had the song written quite quickly, but then singing it without crying was the next battle, but I’ve overcome that now.

Country music often thrives on real-life stories. Do you find writing about personal hardships healing, or is it more about connecting with listeners who’ve walked a similar road?

It’s a dance of both. I do really write for therapy and to process certain experiences, but I always have the intention and hope that my music finds the people who need it. There are songs that have really pulled me from the depths, I want to be able to create that music for people to lean on and maybe take the edge off certain challenges in life. Impactful music is always my goal.

You’ve got a run of upcoming shows across NSW and QLD. How do you prepare for performing live, and do you have a favourite venue or town you’re especially excited to return to?

We’ve been rehearsing for this since last year and I’ve been testing set lists out at local shows and really ticking all the boxes to create a great show for the audience. It’s been great to grow more in the area of live performance, work consistently with a band and really nurture that craft. This tour has a great variety of venues but my favourite so far was returning to do my home town show at Mummulgum Hall last Saturday night. I was expecting some friends and family to come out for it, but we actually ended up selling out and having to quickly arrange 12 extra tables for the massive crowd that seemed to just arrive out of nowhere. It was surreal and a huge confidence boost.

Your music blends traditional country with heartfelt lyrics. Who are some of your musical influences, and how have they helped shape your sound?

Alison Krauss, Kasey Chambers, Joy Williams, and a lot of 90’s country music artists. There’s no denying the evidence of that influence in my music, but it’s been nice to tap into my own unique style.

What’s something about Relentless—the album—that you hope listeners really notice or take away after hearing it?

I really hope they’re able to find themselves in it, relate or connect to the concepts and stories. I hope it has the same cathartic and impactful effect for the listener as it has for me, the writer.

Looking ahead, where do you see your music heading after this release? Are there themes or stories you’re already exploring for future work?

I’d love to keep the momentum flowing on performing live shows and working with my band. I’d really love the opportunity to play more festivals and connect with country music lovers just like me. I’m really excited because I have been collecting bits and pieces and ideas for new songs and that really excites me. I’m looking forward to focusing on more writing throughout this season.

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You’ve said this track reflects “finding peace in being out of your depth”—how does that mindset tie into the broader themes on Chrome Dipped?

Throughout the record there is an over arching theme of a “New world”. In some aspects it is good and in some it is bad, and ultimately you will find a calm.

Sonically, “The Hogg” is filthy and ferocious, but the lyrics are almost poetic—how conscious are you of striking that contrast?

Thats basically the whole idea behind the album is this stark contrast between hard and soft, Chrome being solid but also soft and liquid. Its like steel wool, the toughest material that’s also soft.

What pushed you to move away from the raw punk roots into more experimental territory on this record? Was it scary to let go of those “rules”?

We were open for change, we were excited for it. The album is still punk, it’s just not typical to how you would think our record might sound. And I’m ok with that.

Kirin J. Callinan as producer and recording at MONA—it’s a big shift from your usual DIY process. How did that environment and team shape the album?

Kirin J produced the record and Chris Townend recorded it. I had met Kirin a few years back at a DIY space in Newcastle where we played under a basketball ring. He was wearing pikachu jeans and cowboy boots with spurs. Fast forward 3 years we were throwing some names around for people to produce the new album and Kirins name came up and we all thought, “well that would be interesting” So we did. It was his idea to go down to MONA to the frying pan studios with Chris. What an amazing space, and hidden gem. I still can’t believe we

You recently toured with Sex Pistols in Australia—how did that experience feed into the energy or mindset behind Chrome Dipped?

You can’t rely deny a call up like that, you have to go along with it, embrace it. Which we did. It was fantastic, special, and comical in a way. I don’t think it really had any correlation to the record or where we are at, we were just happy to be sharing a stage with some legends of it all.

You’ve mentioned wanting listeners to feel “confused, angry, then good”—what’s the value in creating that kind of emotional whiplash in music today?

A lot of bands like to hand feed their audience with easy to digest-able music at the moment. I think its important to challenge and question this in contemporary music.

The album seems to wrestle with the role of machines and modern consciousness—was that an intentional commentary or something that emerged naturally?

I wouldn’t say the whole album is a comment on the modern machine, but there is elements of that notion in the song Chrome dipped itself. I was thinking a lot about theever changing or growth of humans trying to attain this perfect machine. The build of the machine that can act or be like a human. Its kind of a strange concept really.

Tell us about the behind-the-scenes documentary. Was it strange having someone film such personal, creative moments, or did it add to the process?

Its nice to have people around you, sometimes they can get in your way and sometimes it can help you. Either way, we were grateful to have it filmed in such an interesting and artistic way. James Gorter is a fantastic director and I can’t wait to see what he comes up with himself.

Pre order link for the album is here: https://ffm.to/chrome-dipped