Music Interviews

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How does it feel to return to Moo, You Bloody Choir two decades on — not just as musicians, but as people who’ve lived a lot of life since that era?
The prospect of these anniversary concerts mainly makes me feel old and scared of looking in a 20-year-old mirror. It can be hard and confronting to try and relive or recreate something from so long ago. But once we get started, it will quickly become fine and even enjoyable.

When the album first came out, did you have any sense it would become such a defining moment in Australian music, or has its legacy only become clear with time?
Absolutely not. Is it really a defining moment in Australian music? That’s very nice of you to say. The album had actually been completed almost a year earlier and shelved indefinitely by the label. We were mainly just relieved to have it released at all, which meant we could start playing live again to promote it. When your label puts your finished record in mothballs, your thoughts go more towards survival, not so much about creating musical history.

One Crowded Hour changed everything for the band almost overnight. How do you remember that sudden shift into the mainstream and the impact it had internally?
It was the middle of summer when the song came out. It was quickly added to high rotation on JJJ, which was a big deal for us, but that didn’t result in any drastic, immediate overnight change. By the middle of the year it was starting to get played on commercial radio, and that’s when the queues at the shows started to get longer, the venues started to get bigger, and we were adding extra nights. It was like a big cushion of warm air pushing up from underneath. After many years of struggle, I thought that felt great. Not everyone in the band enjoyed it though — the spotlight and the pressure maybe weren’t a positive thing for the band overall.

The album moves between poetry, tension, softness, and ambition in a way that still feels unique. What creative risks or instincts shaped that sound during the recording process?
That range of dynamics came pretty naturally to us, and of course a lot of it is in the songwriting. The unique sound of the band had evolved over the previous ten years. I don’t think there was much deliberate intent or instinct to shape the album’s sound. Occasionally we did try to create a jarring sonic effect, like recording the piano via a guitar amp on Mother Greer. We attempted a slow, moody version of Frownland by Captain Beefheart, which is a very fast, jerky, and discordant freak-out song. That was creatively risky, but it didn’t get very far.

Parts of the album were recorded in the Tenderloin during a pretty intense period. How did that environment influence the atmosphere or emotional weight of the record?
Interesting. Yes, it was a very rough and sketchy neighbourhood. Historically, police who worked the beat there were paid an under-the-counter bonus of the choicest steak cuts, hence the name (this was in San Francisco, not Chicago). There was a gun murder close to where we were staying. However, the only three finished tracks from those sessions were arguably the poppiest songs on the album — One Crowded Hour, The Cold Acre, and Just Passing Through. In fact, we re-recorded The Cold Acre later in Melbourne; the Tenderloin version was actually faster and more upbeat. Maybe the environment didn’t have a big, direct influence on the music. One of the band members did fall in love, which might have added to the positive vibes.

There were label changes, personal challenges, and moments where the project felt like it might never come together. What kept the band anchored during that chaos?
Hmm. I’m not sure how “anchored” we were. Is it possible to be anchored by alcohol? Anchored in alcohol, perhaps. We were all very committed to the band, and there was definitely a lurking sense that this album was our last chance with our record label and our last chance to make a big splash with a mainstream audience. We had just done a seven-week tour of the US, which was by far the longest tour we’d ever done. We were getting road-hardened and match-fit, playing consistently good shows. That probably did give us some sense of confidence. In the past, our live shows had sometimes been erratic or unpredictable.

Fans often say the album “stays with them.” Which songs have stayed with you the most over the years — and why?
Not One Crowded Hour. I got very sick of that eventually, which is fair enough — that song has been played to death. I always liked Clockwork, the long, slow, heavy song at the end of the album. Stranger Strange is great too; that maybe could have been a hit single as well.

Performing the album front-to-back for the first time is a huge moment. What excites you most about presenting it as one complete, intentional body of work on stage?
The most interesting part is that we’re all very different people than we were twenty years ago, so there’s a good chance it will be a very different album of songs when we re-interpret it. It’s unlikely to be a musical carbon copy of the way we played it in 2006.

Revisiting this era must naturally stir new ideas. How does looking back at this album shape where you want to take Augie March next?
It probably doesn’t. The band has maintained quite a productive output, releasing four albums in the last ten years. Glenn has made a solo album as well and is in the middle of another one now — he still has a lot of songs. Doing an anniversary tour feels like something separate. When we revisited the band’s first album Sunset Studies five years ago, it overlapped with making a new album (Bloodsport and Porn). For a while Glenn was toying with the idea of that being Sunset Studies Vol. 2, but it didn’t eventuate. I can’t see us making Moo You Bloody Choir Vol. 2.

You’ve described the upcoming shows as a balance of respect and irreverence toward the songs. What does that actually look like when you’re all on stage together?
It could look like everyone treating the songs with great respect, whilst personally taunting and abusing each other with mild contempt — both on and off stage.

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‘Piece of Mess’ feels raw and open, almost like you’re inviting listeners inside the emotional spiral you were living through. What moment or realisation first pushed this song into existence?

The moment of betrayal. There are few things more difficult to experience; I would say grief is also up there. I tried repeatedly to show up with love, only to be taken advantage of. No matter what I did, I was always going to lose, but through that experience, I created some of the best songs I’ve ever written.

You’ve said the track came from the same creative burst as ‘Serious,’ written in your Elwood apartment. What was happening in your life at that time that made writing feel so urgent?

It was an outlet for me to express what I couldn’t in conversation. I was young, struggling, and not always surrounded by supportive people, which certainly had an impact.

Originally, this song was directed at someone else, calling them a “Piece of Mess,” but I chose to redirect it toward myself, recognising how messy I also felt in love at the time. I’m strong in many ways, but matters of the heart have always been my vulnerability.

Three songs on the album — Piece of Mess, Serious, and an unreleased track, I Can’t Love Anymore — were all written around the same day, inspired by the pain of giving someone many chances, only to be hurt by someone I trusted and loved.

There’s a real tension-and-release feeling in the production, like the music breathes with the story. How did you and Lewis Pidutti shape that emotional push-and-pull in the studio?

When I originally wrote this song, I wanted it to convey a strong sense of drama, especially through dynamics. There are subtle musical nuances in the verses designed to create an unpredictable, almost suspenseful feeling.

I had been developing this track long before meeting Lewis, and I always knew how impactful it would be live with the band — something that is often difficult to fully capture in a studio setting. I revisited many of my old recordings to refine the sound, focusing on keeping ample breathing space in the verses to allow for explosive moments, and creating a striking contrast in the chorus with powerful, chunky guitars and a surge of intensity.

He listened and nailed it. I recorded this song in one take vocally through a drum microphone, and we never changed it. There is an entire range of emotions in this tune.

You built your reputation on the streets of Bourke Street, looping in front of strangers. How does that raw, unpredictable environment still influence the way you write and perform?

The streets have been my greatest teachers, and I believe that’s why I am such a strong performer on stage. Busking requires vulnerability, creativity, and authenticity. You must find ways to capture attention and keep people engaged. If your energy is off, the audience will feel it too.

Performing in this environment has taught me to recognise impactful moments in a song — where I can connect with the audience or elevate the set to the next level. My favourite part is creating those moments where the entire crowd joins in and sings with me.

You’ve just come off shows in Italy, Germany and the Netherlands. Did sharing these songs across Europe shift the way you hear or feel them?

It was genuinely exciting to hear my songs being sung by people outside of my hometown. Experiencing this brought new life to the album and filled me with a renewed sense of joy.

My time in Europe allowed me to fully reset from a burnout I had been experiencing. Now, I connect with the music from a healed and refreshed place, feeling completely ready to share it and fully immerse myself in everything album-related. Perfect timing.

The song digs into the messy, uncomfortable side of love — insecurity, frustration, the yearning underneath it all. Was there a lyric that felt confronting to write or admit out loud?

My writing is extremely honest and pretty direct. I think, “I want a solid apology, not this look you’ll demolish me, swallow me, I want equality” — ain’t that the truth.

Just wanting someone to be sincere, gentle, kind, and admit being wrong instead of being blamed as a woman.

Your sound moves effortlessly between soul, pop, jazz and vocal looping. When you’re writing something vulnerable like this, do you lead with emotion first or with vocal experimentation?

I would say it’s a combination. My voice conveys my emotions, and my emotions guide me in finding the words to express through that voice.

I embrace influences from a variety of genres, as I believe this is when the most interesting, unique and authentic creative moments emerge — then you get Tanya George.

You’ve played everything from the Roma Busking Festival to WOMADelaide and Airlie Beach Music Festival. Do songs like ‘Piece of Mess’ land differently on a big festival stage compared to an intimate room?

Absolutely. It’s a great song in an intimate environment, but it goes HARD at a festival.

It’s got some very intense parts, such as the bridge all the way to the end of the song, and live, the band just throw themselves in.

With your debut album Contrast on the way, where does this track sit in the wider emotional arc of the record?

“Piece of Mess” is the fifth track on the album, placing it right in the middle at peak angst. It comes just after “The Devil” (track four) and is followed by “Can’t Love Anymore” (track six) — all intense track titles.

My Oma (grandmother) features on the intro (track one) and the interlude (track seven). By the time we reach the interlude, the album transitions from a place of anger back into one of love and growth.

Track eight, “Have You,” is the only love song I’ve ever written. I often hear “Piece of Mess” in relation to “Serious” (track two), as I feel the two songs are connected thematically.

You’ve got momentum in Europe, festival dates at home, and a debut album coming. What part of this next chapter feels the most exciting for you right now?

I think the most rewarding part of releasing these songs is finally sharing them with the world and allowing people to connect with them.

For me, the highlight has always been performing live — seeing my dreams come to life on stage. I always had this vision to begin my set solo, using only my voice and looper, and then the band joins me, taking the performance to the next level.

We had an incredible show over the weekend. People were crying and singing along with the lyrics. It was exhilarating to see my ideas, long imagined in my mind, come alive in real time.

See Tanya perform over the summer at the following festivals:

Tanglewood Festival — 30 Dec 2025 – 2 Jan 2026
Rising Sun Festival — 9–12 Jan 2026
Falls Creek Festival — 14 Feb 2026

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What moment made you realise that The Music wasn’t just another release, but a full creative shift for you this year?

I’m not sure I ever had a moment exactly like this, but there was one kind of “uh huh” moment that I feel guided the process of putting this EP together.

I was throwing a lot of ideas at the wall, and halfway through writing the title track it became apparent that this would be the northern star of the project — a sonic reference for the rest of the tracks. Lyrically, the track The Music was my reflection on how crazy the world is and how music can be a reprieve from that craziness. I wanted that to be the thing someone might hopefully take away from this whole collection of songs.

How did the idea for that “rubber band” synth line in Nobody (Like You) first hit you, and what feeling were you chasing sonically?

I guess it was a bit of a happy accident! I had it in an old session, and kind of pieced it together like a puzzle with the drums and vocals, all from different sessions. That combination felt like the track could tear apart at any moment — a lot of energy, and I found that really exciting.

This EP arrived quickly after legitimate dj behaviour — what sparked this streak of momentum for you in 2025?

It really did, and it kind of surprised me! A combination of things — I love making music for starters. And I had some great people in my corner: Leo Horton who did the artwork, my manager Jez, the team at Believe who did distribution. Great people to bounce ideas off and expand the world I was conceiving for this EP. I really attribute a lot of the momentum to the people around me who encourage and push me directly and indirectly.

When you listen back to the five singles together, what thread ties them into one cohesive world?

Hmm, it’s hard to say! I think the drum grooves, or maybe some of the synth elements feel quite cohesive across tracks.

Which track from the EP surprised you the most during the production process?

100% 1Mhz. It’s quite different to the rest of the EP in my opinion. A few days before it came out I was low-key freaking out it was going to flop, but it ended up doing better than some of the songs I felt more confident in.

A lot of your music feels built for communal moments on the dancefloor. How much do crowd reactions influence the way you shape a track?

I think I’m more focused on listener reactions. How does this feel in headphones? Is it exciting, and do I want to listen from start to finish? I’m also somewhat mindful of how it could be mixed when making it, but mainly on the listening aspect.

What did you want listeners to feel during that moment where the EP “could tear apart at any second”?

Excited and alive!

You’ve called this project spontaneous — how do you balance instinct, experimentation and discipline when you’re in a creative sprint?

I think the foundational element is discipline, or building and maintaining a routine to be creative. This was a bit of a challenge this year while juggling an almost full-time day job.

Experimentation is the second most important factor, and I would conceptualise it more as being freely creative without judgement, pressure or expectation getting in the way.

I think once I’ve turned up to be creative and gotten an idea somewhat fleshed out with enough essential elements to have some form, that’s where instinct comes into play. Instinct guides the refining period of finishing ideas for me — mostly subtracting elements, occasionally adding.

Where do you see The Music taking you next, both on stage and in the studio?

I’m figuring out the studio stuff now, and I think that’ll become clearer over the next few months. I’d like to work with some other people on tracks — it’s been almost entirely me on production so far. I’d also love to be involved in other people’s projects too!

Hopefully a lot more sets in 2026!

Stream:

https://bfan.link/the-music-ep

Socials:

https://linktr.ee/harleygirl.vroom

Credits:

Written & Produced by Connor Grant (aka HARLEY GIRL)

Mixed by Connor Grant & Doug Wright

Mastered by Suture Mastering

Artwork by Leo Horton

Photos by Koady

How did returning to Christmas music open a different creative or emotional space for you compared to your previous albums?
I am a songwriter and I sing my own songs. I have not regularly performed other people’s songs for twenty years. However, over the course of this project, I was captivated by the process of curation and how it is artistry of a different kind. Earlier this year I looked closely into how art and museum curators work. Placing different objects side by side, or in particular rooms, can take visitors on a specific journey through an exhibition. In curating the Christmas EP, I found myself doing the same, but sonically. The artistry involved was such a wonderful surprise.

As I have pursued the meaning of Christmas art, I have found the coexistence of light and darkness. Images of homes, greenery, merriment, and the warmth of fireplaces and hot summers sit against a backdrop of war, longing, death, and grief. There is a lot to work with.

What drew you to curate a collection that blends German hymns, wartime Hollywood ballads and early Laurel Canyon storytelling — and how did those influences shape the final EP?
Often, it’s easy to think of Christmas music as what we hear blaring through shopping centres. These tend to be seasonal songs of the Christmas experience like White Christmas or Jingle Bells. However, there is a huge pool of music to draw from.

One of the oldest and still very popular carols is O Come, O Come Emmanuel, which dates back to the eighth century, but there are even older tunes still used in Byzantine churches at Christmas time. One of the carols I chose for It’s Coming on Christmas is Lo, How a Rose is Blooming from around 1580. Silent Night dates to the early 1800s. These carols have a rich history and have survived the test of time.

However, the popular songs from wartime Hollywood like I’ll Be Home for Christmas and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas also have a rich history and interesting stories, especially around separation and longing for home. River by Joni Mitchell provides another perspective on the season. It’s not even a Christmas song, but it has become one because of its wide use. It is a very personal and complex song for Joni Mitchell. I wanted to record the songs and live in those different worlds that bridge the centuries.

When you talk about Christmas being “beautifully complex,” what memories, images or personal experiences informed that perspective while you were recording?
I have great memories of my childhood Christmas experiences. I am from a very big family – one of six children. We also have such a large extended family. Christmas has always been a huge affair.

However, in 2011, I lost my father, my uncle, and my seven-year-old niece within the span of three months. From that point on, Christmas has involved a lot of grief, but has also been a time when the memories of our traditions or the quirky, silly stories from our past provide a lot of comfort.

Your version of “River (It’s Coming On Christmas)” feels like a centrepiece of the EP — what did you want to emphasise or reinterpret in such an iconic and deeply melancholic song?
The song starts with familiar festive imagery and sounds – It’s coming on Christmas / They’re cutting down trees / They’re putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace. Then Joni Mitchell hits us between the eyes when she sings, I wish I had a river I could skate away on.

To me, it’s like that lyric sums up how I have felt before. Even though there is a lot of joy happening, and everyone is caught up in regular rhythms of the season, I don’t want any part of it because it’s too painful.

This EP has been out for such a short time, but so many people say that this is the song that has touched them the most. River resonates with many people. It’s saying the outside does not match how I feel inside. That song speaks to me each time I hear it or think about the lyrics. Joni really is one of the best songwriters. What a gift she is to our world.

Working with Sean Carey at Church Street Studios brings a particular warmth and honesty to the recordings — how did that collaboration influence the atmosphere of the project?
Sean Carey was the perfect producer for It’s Coming on Christmas. Every moment in the studio was filled with ease, and I absolutely loved working with Sean. I performed at Church Street Studios in 2024. Before the show, I poked around the halls and found his magical studio. We met and then stayed in touch for about a year or more about working on some of my songs.

I reached out to him in July and said, what about a “Christmas-adjacent” EP? This is why Angel by Sarah McLachlan is on the EP. We wanted to touch the sides without going “Christmas proper.” Well, obviously we ended up making a proper Christmas record. But I think the honesty is there because the intention was that we wanted to record songs that brought comfort to people.

When we selected the songs, the benchmark was that they had to have a particular emotion, fragility, and sensitivity. He was the best person to create a soundscape that matched that intention. Sean has great taste and the kind of restraint needed for these recordings. It was just one of those rare times where it all fell into place. We were really in step, and it was completely stress-free.

As you explored Christmas music traditions from different countries, what surprised you the most about the way people use holiday music to cope, connect, or remember?
Okay, stick with me. I think music is a way to find comfort and solace. The seasonal music of Christmas especially feels familiar and safe. When I created the songs for my 2023 album Familiar Drama, I went on a journey to discover more about nostalgia. And this Christmas EP really extends those findings.

Nostalgia comes from two words, nostos and algos, which mean home and pain. However, there is so much more than wanting to go home. First of all, nostos is first used in Homer’s poem The Odyssey:

“Take off these clothes, and leave the raft to be carried on by the winds, and then, I tell you, strive for your nostos, the land of the Phaeacians, by swimming with your hands; your destiny is to flee [from death] there.”

While nostos has come to be known as home, in The Odyssey, it is not about home only. Instead, the word’s use in this poem also means escaping death, safe landing, returning from war, and being back home. When we think about nostalgia, we think it’s about wanting to return home.

I don’t think people really get that full satisfaction when they return home. Instead, this longing we call “nostalgia” could be simply an escape from difficult times. I like to think about this at Christmas because we want to go home, but sometimes, once there, it’s not all we remember it to be. All that to say, I think music at Christmas time is a way to live in a world that feels secure, and as you say, cope.

“Blue” seems to be a recurring emotional colour throughout the EP — how intentional was that palette, and what does “blue” mean to you in the context of the season?
I started working on pre-production for this in July. It was weird to immerse myself in Christmas while it was Winter, because this EP would come out in Australia in Summer. But in another sense, it wasn’t weird because Christmas comes with so many northern hemisphere Winter references.

However, I decided to lean into the Winter metaphor. I think this is what makes the album a little blue. I read Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost, Susanna Clarke’s The World at Midwinter, and listened to Kate Bush’s 50 Words for Snow. Even though I will have a very summery Christmas and holiday season this year, I really enjoyed immersing myself in imaginary white Winters. We are having a private show and will perform White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes. I find that Winter is magical, mysterious, and strangely comforting.

This is your first release since Familiar Drama — how did stepping into a Christmas EP help you reconnect with your artistry after the emotional weight of that record?
In a way, It’s Coming on Christmas extends the emotional arc found in Familiar Drama. That album is filled with grief, redemption, and nostalgia. It’s Coming on Christmas explores all those themes. Including Angel by Sarah McLachlan, as well as River, provides a bridge between the two.

Running your own label gives you a unique vantage point on independence and creative direction — how did Lights Record Label shape the way this EP took form?
I just love being over in my little corner of the world. I am not really part of the music scene; I play on the edges. I love to create and dream without any inhibitions, without worrying about where the work will end up.

Many years ago, I heard a visual artist talk about how he was going into the bush in South Australia with his 80-year-old Dutch mentor to paint for a few days. As they drove there, this 80-year-old said, “Oh by the way, everything we paint, we will burn.” Can you imagine? It meant that my friend could paint without any rules, take risks, paint for the joy of it, and be in the moment. I love that philosophy, and I think that’s what I try and do with Lights Record Label.

As listeners revisit these songs each December, what do you hope this collection adds to their own holiday memories, traditions or reflections?
When we recorded this music in Church Street Studios, I said over and over again, make it sound like a hug. I want to pour proverbial tea in an oversized gingerbread-man-shaped mug for people. I hope this brings comfort and bears witness to those who find Christmas a little tricky.

What drew you back to the electronic sounds that first made you fall in love with production?
Electronic music blew my mind when I was younger when I realised how it was made, and got into making music with computers. The creative possibilities are endless and the only limit really is your imagination. I played piano but I was never very good, so not being limited by my technical ability on a particular instrument was really cool. I also loved computers and games at the time, so it kind of felt like playing a more productive and artistic video game.

How does working as 44 Ardent open a different creative door for you compared to cln?
I think it just gives me a dedicated outlet for a different sound. I can make whatever comes naturally and don’t have to feel too restricted.

When you named the project “Me, Again,” what part of yourself were you recognising or reclaiming?
It’s mostly a literal reference to this being my second musical project, and going back to my more electronic roots—sort of where I first started making music in the first place.

This EP feels deeply rooted in the influences of Caribou, Bonobo, Tourist, and Odesza. How did those inspirations naturally guide the writing?
I try to let the music that influences me happen subconsciously. So my strategy is to listen to a lot of great music (like the artists you mentioned), and then what your brain thinks sounds good when you are making music will (hopefully) actually sound good to others too. You don’t want to over-do it to the point where you are copying another sound. Ideally you want to be inspired but not let it impact your creativity.

What was happening in your world when “Chemicals” and the title track came together for the first time?
Honestly, I can’t remember. That project file is super old and has survived a few different computers. It was a forgotten idea that I found again when I was going through old project files. If you still like it after all that time, it’s probably a keeper and deserves to be released. A few of the songs on this EP are like that—old tracks brought back to life.

You mentioned wanting to focus less on social media and more on the music itself. How did that mindset shape the final EP?
Yeah I dunno, I think I am just getting a bit old and probably out of touch, but I don’t really have any desire to be a social media personality or make content. I like making songs and am pretty lacking in the social media skills department. I also don’t think I am cool enough for that world anyway lol.

The artwork comes from a photo you took inside a mountain cave. What does that place mean to you, and why did it feel right for this project?
The photo is from a mountain called Mt. Maroon in Queensland. It’s a beautiful spot with a bunch of locally endemic wildflowers that only occur on top of the mountains in that area. I really liked the photo, and it just felt right as the EP cover.

How did reconnecting with your early musical instincts shift the energy or emotion in your production process?
It took the pressure off a little bit and helped me to get over writer’s block. It brings a bit more fun to the process—I can just make things and see what happens, and I have more options to release them now.

Where do you feel the line sits between cln and 44 Ardent now that this EP has recalibrated your direction?
I guess the cln project sort of got to a point where it is very vocal-driven and calm/peaceful. I still really love making that sort of thing, but I also wanted the option to make fun electronic sounds too. I guess what I make mostly depends on my mood.

Looking back at the full journey of making “Me, Again,” what moment or realisation stands out as the turning point?
Hard question. I am not sure if there was a clear turning point for this one. I guess I played a few shows under this project last year, and had a fun time, so I wanted to write a few more songs that would sound good in a live context.

Stream:

https://bfan.link/me-again

Socials:

https://soundcloud.com/44ardent

https://www.facebook.com/44ardent

https://twitter.com/44Ardent

https://www.instagram.com/44ardent

What pulled you toward the sonic world of this new track, and when did you realise Jupiter was the right song to signal the beginning of a new chapter?

 I think the shift started during the lockdowns. I was watching heaps of producer tutorials on YouTube and found one from Decap, known for his Drums That Knock packs. He had this short video basically saying, “just make a beat a day with zero judgement.” I tried it, and honestly it changed everything. It opened doors I’d usually keep shut.

As a producer you know your comfort zone – mine’s always been 85-95bpm, hip-hop beats, samples, live-band friendly stuff. And because I was performing with a live band, I’d avoid anything that wouldn’t translate onstage. But the Decap method made the process exciting again, and I had to ask myself: do I follow this new path, or keep sticking to an established format? The new path felt way more joyful.

Jupiter came out of those sessions and just felt like the right track to signal something new for me.

You’ve spoken about starting the track from a chopped chord loop that evolved on its own. What was the moment the groove revealed its true direction to you?

 The chopped chords and samples had the vibe straight away, and the tempo felt right, but I struggled with the drums for a while. Then I stumbled across this Oliver sample – he’s everywhere on Splice. I questioned whether I should use it as-is, knowing I might hear it pop up in someone else’s track one day. So I filtered it and added extra percussion.

But the shuffle and swing were perfect. It just locked in with the sample. And look, producers are still using the Amen break to this day, so I’m cool with it. I haven’t heard it in anyone else’s tune yet, but I’m sure that day’s coming.

There’s a sleek confidence running through Jupiter that feels both effortless and intentional. What internal shift sparked that energy for you?

A beat kind of needs that confidence early on. Jupiter was one of those ones I just kept playing in the studio because it felt good. You get attached to that early magic – until the honeymoon is over baby, its never gonna be that way again! That’s a Cruel Sea reference for those too young to know. 

Then Iva sent through a vocal demo and it pulled me right back in. Everything started clicking after that.

You and Iva Lamkum have a rare creative chemistry. What was it like reconnecting after so many years and stepping back into the room together?

Honestly, it was really special. Most people don’t realise that when she recorded Turn Around – which was a big tune for us – we didn’t actually meet. She recorded in Wellington, I was in Auckland, and we just bounced demos back and forth. We only met later when she came up for shows.

After the Get It Together touring cycle we drifted into our own worlds, so reconnecting after something like 13 years felt pretty special.

Jupiter feels spacious, warm, and full of movement. How much of that atmosphere comes from instinct, and how much comes from deliberate sculpting in the studio?

It’s a mix of both. If you heard the early demos, the vibe is already there. The mixing and refining helps shape it, but the spark has to exist at the start.

Mixing definitely elevates it though. Simon Gooding mixed Jupiter and the whole album – he’s a bit of a Kiwi mixing mantis (Neil Finn, Pink, Dua Lipa, Ladi6, etc). I like to try my own mixes first and I’m getting better, but I’m slow, and overthinking can really derail the process. So having someone with fresh ears at the end is a lifesaver.

You’ve always blended genres without ever sounding derivative. How do you balance absorbing influences like Tame Impala or Oliver while still protecting your own lane?

Finding your sound is about tuning into your own sensibilities – everything you’ve absorbed since birth: art, music, how you see the world. It’s all uniquely yours. That’s what gives your music a voice.

Every now and then I’ve caught myself trying too hard to mimic someone else’s vibe. It never works, and honestly I wouldn’t want it to. It’s a dead end.

That Decap beat-a-day method really helps reveal your sound. Maybe not on day one, but give it a few days and wonderful things start happening.

Kenji Iwamitsu-Holdaway added some striking touches to the track. What did his contributions unlock that wasn’t present in the early demo?

 Kenji’s is so great. He’s a virtuoso player but also incredibly musical. He listens to what the track actually needs and fits into it without cluttering anything. He brings all these flashes of colour and little ear-candy moments.

On Jupiter he added these super funky bass pops that, once filtered, almost feel like a synth. He also added a simple little lead line at the end – nothing over the top, just exactly what the track needed.

Iva described the song as carrying a bold, in-your-era energy. What does that phrase mean to you personally at this point in your artistic life?

That’s probably one for Iva, since she wrote the lyrics. I helped here and there, but it’s her story. My take – and don’t quote me – is that she’d lost some confidence after some rough industry experiences, being signed to a major and all that.

Before recording Jupiter, she’d started to find her footing again – as a mother, as a woman, as an artist. That’s the energy I feel coming through.

This upcoming album arrives after a long run of evolution and reinvention. What felt different about the creative headspace this time around?

Honestly, just letting go. Breaking down whatever walls I’d unconsciously built around what Sola Rosa should be. Lockdowns, for all their downsides, were a freeing period at first. I look back at that time as a real turning point – heaps of change and growth.

Not all sunshine, but definitely transformative.

Your catalogue has travelled far beyond Aotearoa and built an international following. How has that global reach shaped the way you approach new music today?

I don’t really shape the music to suit any specific audience. I just follow whatever’s inspiring me and hope people connect with it. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t – but I’m always fully invested in what I’m making.

With the new album, I definitely wanted music that moves people on a dancefloor or at a show. Still managed to sneak in some chill beats too. It’s a good mix – my version of dance music anyway.

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‘Baby Mama Drama’ arrives as a groove-heavy, emotionally grounded track. What was the moment that first sparked the idea for this song?

Well, to be honest, it came from the rhyming words: even Obama has baby mama drama… then I kind of worked backwards from there. I originally thought of it coming from the perspective of a relationship counsellor. You know, an old guy in a tweed jacket and bow tie…he’s got a sign out the front of his office that reads something like, “Been Married Seven Times, Each One A Success..” and his basic message is, tough times in a relationship are inevitable, it’s how you deal that counts. 

The song speaks openly about holding onto love even when things get messy. Was there a specific relationship experience that shaped the message behind it?

Haha, more than one, I’d say. Also, I’ve drawn from friends’ experiences, not just mine. But yeah, if you ever hear someone say they never have any conflict in their relationship, then that union is probably not fully formed. Conflict is essential and part of the game.

You recorded vocals across hemispheres, directing the session from Sydney at 3 a.m. What was that experience like, and how did that pressure shape the final take Arica Jackson delivered?

It was kind of like a Teams Meeting with high fidelity audio equipment. We got the girls into the studio in Brooklyn; they were super professional and quick studies, so they nailed their parts really easily, which was a joy for me. It was so crazy hearing them chat in the vocal booth over there whilst the engineers were setting up… “hey, how are you? I love your hair! Oh, thank you!”.. Like they were in the next room…

We didn’t have a lot of time before they had to take off for work (on Broadway), so there was definitely pressure to get everything done. But it came out great.

The outro vamp from Arica Jackson was a one-take moment. How did it feel hearing that performance come together in real time?
By the time all the written stuff was in the can, we literally had minutes left when I asked Arica to do a vamp on the outro. She had time for one take, and it was surreal. It meant a lot to finally get this part of the puzzle complete because we went through so much to get to this point. Not only the lockdown, but the studio had to close down halfway through the project, so there was a delay there until we got set up in an in-between studio, plus it took ages to finally get the right singers… I was like a dog with a bone and not willing to compromise. I knew what I wanted, and I eventually got it.   

 

Your influences span Teddy Atlas to Steely Dan and The Roots. Where do you hear those inspirations most clearly in ‘Baby Mama Drama’?Well, in the case of Steely Dan, it’d be those half-diminished chromatically descending jazz chords that create the harmonic environment for the track. And would I like to hear Teddy Atlas sing my song? Would I what!! 

You made much of the upcoming album while living in your family’s granny flat during lockdown. How did that stripped-back, solitary environment affect your writing and emotional approach?

I had no distractions except for the welcome ones, like my 2 year old nephew, who was in the main house with the family. Nothing but a bed, a piano and my little studio set up. I got to go really deep whilst on that 3 and a half month sabbatical. And the results are there. A strong case for a universal basic income for artists!! Alas, it’s Australia, so don’t hold your breath.

This track carries both groove and vulnerability. How do you balance storytelling, humour, and honesty in a song that deals with conflict and reconciliation?

Everyone can relate to this to some degree, so I guess it’s about relatability. And humour is a good way to take the edge off of something that can be all-consuming. I suppose when you’re past it, you can look back and think, maybe I’ll do things differently next time… 

You spent years fronting a nine-piece roots-reggae outfit. What feels different about sharing music under your own name and shaping every detail yourself?

It feels easier and very liberating doing it this way. I can perform these new tracks on a piano or a guitar, or with a couple of spoons and get the message across. Yeah, the nine-piece thing was amazing when it all came together, but it was a challenge doing it in a tiny scene like Australia… 

The lyrics nod to the universal nature of relationship tension — “even Obama has Baby Mama Drama.” Why was it important to approach the topic with warmth and relatability rather than blame?

As I’ve said, no one escapes the harsh reality of relationship conflict, and you can use it for good. And you can’t go around carrying grudges and hatred toward people who you feel did you wrong. Well, maybe for a bit, but then you have to let it go. The Obama line is about the fact that he presents this almost god-like persona of perfection, you know, the way he carries himself, you know, he’s a cool guy, but I guarantee you he’d have spent his fair share of time in the dog house.

‘Baby Mama Drama’ is part of your upcoming 2026 album Dealin’ Out The Healin’. What larger story or emotional arc does this single represent within that new body of work? 

Well, if I look at the themes throughout the record, a lot of it is about experiences I have had or those of close friends’ experiences that I witnessed first hand, dealing with relationships. Hopefully the references are opaque enough for them not to recognise themselves, haha. I think I did. I’ve never done this before, where the stories are all of the same arc… I thought, let’s make it relatable, cos it’s about getting the music heard by as many people as possible, isn’t it?

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What inspired the emotional direction of Better Say, and when did you realise this song needed to exist?

‘Better Say’ was born from a place of emotional limbo – when you like someone and you’re pretty sure they like you back, but both parties refuse to actually say anything. ‘Better Say’ captures the struggle of pretending to be chill when internally, you’re spiraling. I was noticing how often my friends and I would assume these effortless, nonchalant personas, even when we cared deeply, and that’s when I thought, “okay I want to write a song about this”.

How did the push-and-pull energy of modern dating shape the way you approached the lyrics and delivery?

I think modern dating is basically a masterclass in ambiguity. Everyone’s trying to act casual, play mind games and ultimately, avoid saying the wrong thing and appearing too interested. That’s exactly why I chose to sarcastically open the song with “I am casual, I’m non-committal… I don’t have needs, don’t have expectations”. It’s the persona so many of us put on in the dating scene, this performance of being impenetrable and unbothered whilst we’re secretly hoping this person might be our happily-ever-after.

You wrote this track entirely on your own — what was happening in your life creatively or personally that fed into the writing process?

I wrote ‘Better Say’ after I found myself back in the dating scene. I realised I’d been shrinking my needs to seem cooler and more laid-back, and writing the song really forced me to confront that. I had a lot of fun exploring the juxtaposition between my internal and external personas – the version of me that acts chill and unfazed, and the version that actually cares a lot. I really lent into that contrast, and here we are!

Working with Gabrielle Emery and an all-female production team adds a strong layer of meaning to the track. What made that collaboration feel right for this release?

‘Better Say’ is primarily about speaking up for yourself and clearly outlining your expectations, so working with women who really understood that feeling was special. Gabrielle Emery isn’t just a brilliant producer, she’s also a great friend. I always feel so comfortable with her, like I can completely unleash and leave everything on the table, and we have so much fun creating together.

We really leaned into the chaos of an internal spiral, and having such an encouraging space is exactly why things like the last-minute intro “well, he took four hours to text me back, what do you think that means?” made it into the song. That moment came out of us laughing and oversharing stories about the trials and tribulations of modern day dating. Honestly, I just had the best time.

Your music often feels like a diary entry that hits hard. How do you walk the line between vulnerability and empowerment in your songwriting?

I think I’ve realised that pretending you’re fine is actually the opposite of empowerment. It might sound cliché, but being vulnerable and naming how you feel can be incredibly difficult and takes a lot of strength. When I write, I try to sit with my emotions long enough to understand them and then shape them into something listeners hopefully recognise in themselves. That’s why I knew I wanted to release ‘Better Say’, because it’s about finally telling the truth and asking for the clarity you deserve.

Better Say has a very punchy, confident tone. Was there a moment in the studio when the sound locked in and you knew you’d nailed it?

I think the moment it clicked was when we nailed the final vocals. We really wanted to capture the chaos of that internal versus external battle, and I’m so happy with how they turned out. One moment that stands out is when we were literally jumping around the studio screaming “I don’t care!!!” for the group vocals before the second chorus. The second I heard that back, I knew we’d hit the nail on the head.

You’ve been compared to artists like Holly Humberstone and Olivia Rodrigo, but you also have a very distinct voice. Where do you feel your sound sits right now?

I like to think I sit in this pocket between soft-spoken vulnerability and sharp, witty storytelling. I love writing from a really emotional, introspective place, but I also want the choruses to pack a punch. Holly Humberstone and Olivia Rodrigo do that so beautifully – their emotional precision is something I really admire and draw inspiration from.

You’ve had some huge early milestones — songwriting comps, radio play, strong media support. How have those experiences shaped the artist you’re becoming?

For a long time, I treated music like a secret passion, but things like media support, radio play, and competition recognition helped me realise that people genuinely connect with what I’m making. That’s been really motivating. I think we often feel like we’re alone in what we’re feeling or going through, so having people respond to my music and see themselves in it means everything to me.

What do you hope listeners feel when they hear Better Say for the first time?

I hope it makes listeners think, “I’m done with mixed signals and hot and cold behaviour! I do deserve clarity!” That’s the energy I’m embracing right now – either show up clearly and honestly, or not at all.

As you move toward your next chapter, what can fans expect from the music you’re creating after this release?

I think I’m exploring themes that feel central to your early to mid-twenties – identity, self-worth, discomfort, relationships, and the emotional intersections between them all. I’ve been doing a lot of self-reflection, and I think that’s really evident in the music. Sonically, it feels bolder, but it still carries that intimate, diary-like storytelling.

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What headspace were you all in when “No Reason At All” first began to take shape, and how did those early ideas evolve into the final version?

I was feeling fairly existential when I started writing the chorus. The lyric “I hope I feel like this for no reason at all” was floating around in my head and was included in a couple of different demos before being fleshed out into the song it is now. 

The song speaks to a kind of generational fatigue and existential doubt. How much of that came from your own experiences over the past five years?

I think most people experience some kind of malaise in their mid-late 20s. Going through a global pandemic framed that period of my life in a really interesting way. When you couple that with the current state of the world, socially and politically, I’d be surprised to find anyone who’s not slightly fatigued. 

Max mentioned that action is the ideal response to the state of the world, even when despair feels easier. How did that emotional tug-of-war influence the writing and performance?

I’m not as much of an activist as I wish I was and certainly not as much as some of my friends (who I respect a lot). Some of that probably comes from fear but I also tend to see the world through the lens of music. This song is my best attempt at capturing how I respond to the world around me. 

The track has that nostalgic pop-punk energy but still feels grounded in something real and current. How did you find the balance between familiar influences and your own voice?

There’s a few subtle nods in this track to bands we love like Motion City Soundtrack, Hot Mulligan and The Story So Far. All of those bands have such unique sounds that we could never even try to imitate them. I’m fascinated by the idea of pairing elements of pop-punk with other sounds to try and create something that’s both fresh and familiar. 

Lachy Pitcher came on board for production. What did he bring out of you that wasn’t there before?

Lachy has one of the best sets of ears in Australian music and he’s a huge asset to our sound. He and I tend to think the same way about music so collaborating in the studio is always really seamless and enjoyable. He’s basically a secret member of the band at this point. 

The music video adds a cinematic layer to the song’s themes, especially with the imagery of the burning couch. What was the initial concept behind the clip, and how did it come to life?

We worked with the director Pete Williams on his film The Last Grind (out now on SBS On Demand and Apple TV). He and cinematographer Johanis Lyons-Reid did a tremendous job of capturing the messaging of this track for the music video. Pete’s concept of the burning couch is quite a resonant way of representing the struggle faced by many Australians to keep a roof over their head and stay afloat.

Your jazz backgrounds at the Elder Conservatorium plays into your songwriting in subtle ways. How does that training shape the textures or structures you lean toward in Superdose Gangway?

What I love about jazz is the way that musicians keep finding unique ways of interpreting familiar pieces of music. We try to do that when we pick a cover for our live set. For years, we used to do a punk version of Hollaback Girl which worked out great. To me, jazz music (and all music) is freedom of expression. Everything that Superdose Gangway does tends to follow that mantra. 

You’ve experimented with unusual release approaches in the past, did that early hustle play a part in this release? Has it made it easier to connect creatively/write music together?

We did a project called ‘26 Songs in 2016’ which involved releasing a new song every fortnight for a whole year. Each song title started with a different letter of the alphabet and we tried to learn something new or do something different with every song. The biggest lesson we learnt from that process is never to be married to an idea. Everything is a placeholder until the song is released! 

The new single captures a sense of tension and uncertainty that feels very of this moment. What do you hope listeners take away from it when they first hear it?

I hope this track helps people feel a little bit less alone and encourages people to be even kinder to those around them. I’d be happy with any result like that. 

You’ve shared stages with an incredibly diverse group of bands over the years. How have those experiences influenced the direction of this single and where you see Superdose Gangway heading next?

Next year, we’ll be celebrating 10 years of being a band. We’ve played with so many incredible bands, toured some amazing parts of Australia, released heaps of music and had so much fun doing it. We’ve been pretty quiet for the past year or so but I’m looking forward to our 10th year as a band being a big one, hope to see you at a show! 

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When you started curating this lineup, what first connected you to Mathilde Anne, R.EM.EDY and Cooper Smith? What did you see in each of them that made you feel, yes, these are the voices we need in the room?

They are all incredible artists, I love their music. Mathilde Anne has this ethereal, intimate way of writing that feels like she’s letting you into her internal world, my favourite song of hers is ‘Haunt You When I’m gone’- it’s rare to find an artist who can make vulnerability feel powerful. R.EM.EDY is a force; she shapeshifts through genres with such confidence, and she uses her music to speak boldly about identity and disability. I first saw her perform at BIGSOUND and she was incredible! Cooper Smith brings an electricity and joy that’s completely infectious – he refuses to fit into anyone’s expectation of what a DJ “should” be, and it’s been incredible to see him write original music. I first saw him perform at ABILITY Fest.

Putting this event together must have involved a lot of instinct as well as intention. What were the qualities or stories you were determined to spotlight within the disabled artist community?

I wanted voices that were unapologetically themselves. Artists who are pushing against the grain musically, but who are also shifting the culture about what it means to be a disabled musician. They’re all incredibly talented, hardworking musicians. I also wanted to make sure I showed a cross section of styles and different disabilities.

Your own experiences as an artist with disability are woven into everything you do. How did that perspective influence the way you approached shaping this night?

My lived experience was at the heart of every decision. I know what it feels like to be the only disabled person at a gig, or to arrive at a venue and realise it hasn’t been considered whether you can access the stage. I didn’t want any artist on this lineup to feel that way. So, I curated the night with the same care I wish I had been given earlier in my career – making sure the environment is safe, the team is supportive, and the artists feel uplifted rather than tokenised. It’s about building the kind of industry I want the next generation to inherit.

ONES TO WATCH has a reputation for picking the artists who will shape the next wave. What did you want this particular edition to say about where the industry is heading – or where it needs to go?

I wanted this edition to say, loudly, that disabled artists are not a footnote in Australian music – we’re part of the future. It’s incredibly exciting that Live Nation have decided to take this step and champion this night, I think it’s exciting and a sign of the times. The industry is realising that inclusivity isn’t an add-on; it’s essential if we want a scene that reflects the real world. The next wave of music in Australia isn’t defined by one sound – it’s defined by perspective, authenticity and diversity of thought. These artists represent exactly that.

You’ve been vocal about the barriers that still exist in this space. From your point of view, what changes feel genuinely urgent if disabled artists are going to be supported properly in this country?

Accessibility is still the biggest barrier – physical spaces, schedules, expectations, and the assumptions people make before we even start performing. We need venues, festivals and studios designed with disabled people in mind, not retrofitted as a last minute thought. And we need meaningful representation: disabled artists on festival line ups, on radio, in writer’s rooms, at award nights. It’s also crucial that funding and professional development opportunities account for the realities of disability.

The three artists on this bill all occupy completely different sonic worlds. How deliberate was it to bring that range of genres and identities together on one stage?

Very deliberate. I wanted to show that disabled artists are not one genre, one narrative, or one aesthetic. We are as varied and expansive as any other group of artists. By bringing together pop, R&B, soul, electronic and indie energy on one stage, I’m hoping audiences feel that. It’s important to challenge the narrow ideas people often have about disability – including how our music “should” sound. There’s no singular disabled artist experience, and this lineup makes that undeniable.

When you look back on the curation process, was there a moment that made you stop and think, this is exactly why this event needs to exist?

I think just seeing how excited the artists are, that Live Nation have thought about including them in a line up like this! Hearing this from the artists reminded me that visibility can be transformative when it’s done right. That was the moment I thought: this is why we’re doing this – so disabled artists can feel celebrated and amplified, not sidelined.

You’re hosting the night and closing it with your own performance. What does sharing the stage with these artists mean to you right now, both personally and creatively?

I feel like I’m standing alongside artists who truly get what it means to navigate this industry differently, but who also refuse to let that limit their artistic ambition. Personally, it feels like being part of a community I’ve always wished existed when I was starting out. Sharing the stage with them feels like a full-circle moment.

You worked closely with Live Nation to bring this together. How did that partnership help you realise what you wanted this event to stand for?

Live Nation genuinely listened. They didn’t just want to put on a show; they wanted to build something meaningful with me. They trusted my vision and let me lead with my lived experience, and they backed that up with real support – from resourcing to accessibility considerations. That kind of collaboration allowed the event to become what it needed to be: not a token moment, but a night that creates actual pathways for disabled artists.

Because the event aligns with the International Day of People with Disabilities, it carries a weight beyond a normal showcase. What conversations do you hope this night sparks – not just in the room, but across the industry in the months ahead?

I hope it sparks conversations about what genuine inclusion looks like – not the glossy version, but the real, everyday work of uplifting disabled artists. I want people to think about who’s missing from their lineups, their writer’s rooms, their playlists and why. And I hope this night inspires more events, partnerships and opportunities that centre disabled artists. If the ripple effect is that more disabled musicians feel seen and supported, then we’ve done something meaningful.

HOSTED BY ELIZA HULL
FEATURING MATHILDE ANNE, R.EM.EDY AND COOPER SMITH

Continuing to redefine their status as one of the premier live music discovery platforms in the country, Live Nation’s ONES TO WATCH series today announces their final edition for 2025:

an event held in Melbourne on Wednesday 26 November, to coincide with

International Day of People with Disabilities (IDPWD) – observed on Wednesday 3 December.

Stream:
https://msdistro.lnk.to/EXALTED

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“The Pages” is divided into chapters and feels like a musical journal — what inspired you to tell your story this way, and how did you decide what belonged in each chapter?

This came about after I finished writing all of the songs, and I was starting to piece them together.

I remember I showed my producer Julian the song “The Pages” and he said that’s the one! I didn’t think It was a hit at first, but then it became the lead single, and with that, the whole world for the album was created. A very confessional biography sort of style.

Then I just ran with that concept and designed all of the artwork and everything. The photo for the inner sleeve/inside of the album was a photo I took in Toronto on my little film camera of a wall in a cafe that is all books/pages. I didn’t know it at the time, but that photo was going to help me create the whole aesthetic for the album. Then, splitting it up into “Chapter 1 and 2” just made so much sense. Chapter 2 is a little bit deeper into the story, and each song builds more on the last, until you get to the final song, which really just wraps it all up.

You’ve described this album as your most personal work yet. Looking back on your first two albums, what has changed most about you as an artist — and as a person — since then?

Yes, most personal, and if I do say so myself, it’s my best work yet.

I’m definitely more set and confident in my sound, and I’m now not really “finding my sound” anymore. I know the kind of music I want to write and make. My first album has like 10 different genres (reggae, rock, pop, soul, vintage) but this album is really a strong folk/rock/Americana sound, that is undeniably me!

Also, I am just more confident in myself and my musical abilities. I have let go of a lot of fears around being too much or being judged for my weirdness, and I’ve simply embraced it. Now I’m posting more authentic content and being more outwardly on stage because let’s face it, people don’t remember boring. There are too many artists playing it safe. Let your freak flag fly, I say!

You’ve said these songs capture resilience and turning difficult moments into beauty. Can you share one song that was particularly cathartic or transformative to write?

“Amber” – for sure. I really tapped into something deeper there and felt like, “Damn, people are really going to hear me!”

This song captures my optimistic nature. I like to radiate genuine energy instead of getting caught up in negativity.

In creating it, I wanted people to truly hear that I won’t seep to a level of negativity and I’m not afraid to say, “Yeah, I’m happy, and bubbly, and that’s just my personality. This is me.”

You worked with Julian Bueckert, Ian Docherty, and Jim Bryson on this album. How did each producer influence the sound, and what was most exciting about those collaborations?

Yes, it was so cool to work with many different producers on this record.

It started with 3 songs with Ian that were initially intended for a different album. “To Heal” was the last song we worked on and I knew it was special enough to be part of “The Pages”.

Then I worked with Jim and we produced the Christmas song “Evergreen”. “Big Star” was a track that stuck with him, so we also recorded that one.

I was at this point where I had a bunch of songs that could form an album but wasn’t sure exactly sure about my next steps. Then Julian offered to produce the rest of the record and it all fell into place.

Each producer brought something unique to their contributions, but my songwriting really holds everything together nicely.

You’ve played over 500 shows, including NXNE and Folk Alliance International. How have these performances shaped your connection with audiences, and how have your live shows for “The Pages” so far felt different from past tours?

Performing is really sacred for me, I get to tap into my younger self, performing is something I’ve done since I was a child, so I feel very at home on stage.

“The Pages” touring era has allowed me to truly step into my power and let go of the fear of being perhaps “too much” – too dramatic, intense or passionate. I’ve finally allowed myself to be that person I always wanted to, and show people that you can be that full unafraid version of yourself.

You’ve traveled across Canada, Ireland, and Los Angeles to make music. How have those places and their music scenes influenced the writing and energy of this record?

Yes! All of these places have definitely shaped my sound.

The place to shape the most of this record however, was Nashville! I spent a few weeks there last September, I wrote “The Pages” “Big Star” “Your Muse” there, and I found this really gritty, country, Americana sound there, that also is reflected in a lot of the record, especially the guitar. I worked with Canadian/Nashville based guitarist Harry Bartlett, and his sound really came through.

Also, a lot of my time in Toronto is reflected in these songs. I wrote “Like A Rock” and “To Heal” from my little apartment in Toronto, and cried when I wrote both of them because it felt so good and powerful. The majority of the other songs were written from my little mountain home in British Columbia.

Your sound blends folk, Americana, and vintage rock with influences from Sheryl Crow to Tom Petty. How do you balance honoring those influences while staying uniquely “Maddisun”?

Those inspirations are always there in the background, and they really come out no matter what, just naturally and subconsciously, because I was raised on rock ‘n’ roll and classic sounds.

I’ve been writing since I was a child – I used to sit my relatives down and “improvise” songs when I was 7 years old, just writing from the heart.

This album feels like tapping into that again. I let my inner child kinda go wild, but I kept going back to the great musicians and songwriters I am inspired by to create structure and hooks.

You’ve landed a sync deal and brand endorsements with Aria Guitars, Godin, and Yamaha. How do partnerships like these impact your creative journey and open new doors for you?

Yes, so cool and exciting! Really it gave me a lot of recognition, to be like “yeah I make cool content, and show up authentically online, so why shouldn’t I be represented by these amazing brands” it’s so fulfilling to know they want to work with me.

If “The Pages” is the story of who you are now, where do you see the next chapter taking you — musically, personally, or even geographically?

I think I need to go away and write my next project. I’ve already started writing it.

A lot of the writing has happened with Julian too. He’s a powerhouse songwriter, and we’re creating some magic. I think my new songs will feel more lived in, more organic, maybe even more stripped back and acoustic, like lived in blue jeans…. relaxed.

I want to go to Mexico or somewhere in California and write the album. When my life is so chaotic with touring and working all the time, I have a hard time staying up on writing, so I need to escape and dedicate specific time to it.

I look forward to this time… stay tuned.

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‘All Good When I’m With You’ feels like such a warm, healing song — what was the moment or inspiration that first sparked its creation?

“All Good When I’m With You” was written on my 8-string ukulele while I was reflecting on my purpose as a songwriter: to bring comfort and joy to the world. I wrote this song two years ago after I had just finished reading Mozart’s Sister, a book about Nannerl Mozart and her passion for music in a male-dominated society. I wanted this song to be easy for my audience to sing along with, while also expressing what I hope to offer through my music—joy, comfort, and resilience in the face of challenges. When the audience sings it back to me during live shows, I feel a profound sense of belonging and purpose. It reminds me why I do what I do: to share joy and connection through music.

The track blends folk roots with cinematic strings and guzheng, creating a beautiful sense of cultural fusion. How did you approach blending those sounds in a way that felt authentic to you?

I’ve always been drawn to classical and instrumental music since I was little. Honestly, instrumental music soothes me more than lyrical music. My neurodivergence (AuDHD) always keeps my brain busy and noisy, so listening to instrumental music stops me from overthinking. My producer, Louis Montgomery, helped me layer different instruments and vocal tracks in a way that creates a soothing sense of fusion that helps listeners feel comfortable enough to settle into the lyrics.

You’ve said this song captures the healing power of music and connection. What role has songwriting played in your own healing process?

I care about feelings. My mum was a hardworking single parent, and silence was usually the norm when we had dinner together after her long hours of work. Sometimes I would make silly noises just to make my mum and sister laugh and break the ice. There’s still sadness and pain from my childhood that was never mentioned or resolved. I didn’t start writing music until my late 20s, so there were many things left unsaid that I finally had a space to release through songwriting. Most of my songs come from personal experience — those are the feelings I know most deeply, and they are what I feel most genuine sharing with my listeners. I know many people carry similar emotions that need to be heard. That’s why I love the post-gig chats with my listeners, when we share our stories and realise we’re not alone.

The guzheng adds such an intimate texture to the track. What does that instrument mean to you personally, and how did it find its way into the final recording?

The addition of a Guzheng was an authentic reflection of my life journey. Growing up in Taiwan, I had always heard of the Guzheng but did not have access to one. Right now, I am living in China for my partner’s work, and I fell into some Guzheng lessons, then decided to integrate the sound into my song. While recording in Louis’s studio in Melbourne, I put a call out on social media to borrow a guzheng, and my friend told me his auntie had one. Louis and I went to her house and helped dig out an old guzheng from her shed. We took it back to the studio, tuned it up, and then captured a recording that made it onto the final mix.

You worked with producer Louis Montgomery, known for his work with SAFIA and Peking Duk. What did he bring to the sound and emotion of this song?

I went to Louis for a fresh sound for my upcoming album with some electronic elements and sound-scaping to elevate my acoustic sounds. Louis has a classical piano background as well, so he was able to add subtle keys and extra chord progression in the music to bring some surprises for listeners’ ear buds. The song sounded balanced with his specific selections of overdubbed violins and cello. I was asked to play several layers of ukulele to make the song more like a lullaby in the 2nd verse. All the parts came together so well in the end.

The video feels cozy and natural, showing moments of creativity and connection. What was it like filming that with Seán O’Gorman, and how did you want the visuals to complement the song’s message?

I told Sean that I wanted to create a warm and simple video that follows my lyrics, which is songwriting with friends and get soaked up in the sun. Having friends accompany each other is a therapy. I was able to film the video at a friend’s place, and we made some tea together. We shot the video with just one camera since Sean operates solo most of the time, so seeing him doing all his work is amazing. It was stress free, since Sean just made it so easy. We only needed three – four takes to complete the video.

You’re about to tour Taiwan with other singer-songwriters from across Asia for your ‘Between Shores’ tour. What does performing these songs in your birth country mean to you?

This tour means a lot to me since I’ve always wanted to share myself in music and reconnect with my folks in Taiwan. My mum never understood my job as an artist, and I wanted to show her how I work at my shows. Performing in Taiwan is also loaded for me. I appeared on a Taiwan talent show, ‘Super Idol’ 16 years ago, which brought me a recording contract, but also brought me fear because of public criticism due to a small percentage of negative public comments. So it’s a full-circle moment to come back home to share my music journey and stories. I want the audience to know that I’m back in Taiwan now and am confident enough to tell my story.  

Your music often bridges cultures and emotions from Taiwan to Australia and beyond. How has living between those worlds shaped the stories you tell through your songs?

My upbringing is reserved since my family rarely talks about feelings. Living in Australia and understanding my partner’s family has made me realise that open communication brings people closer and gains more trust amongst each other. I value the connection that I built with people I met in Australia. I write songs about tough feelings to start my own healing.

You’ve performed everywhere from Woodford Folk Festival to Cambridge Folk Festival. How do you think your live shows have evolved alongside your songwriting?

When I first started performing publicly on the street, I never had enough confidence to call myself a musician, but I knew I had something to give the world. I see music as the channel for me to show people who I am. From playing festivals, I have gained more confidence on stage and know I see that most festival crowds love interactions with the musicians to feel the connection and to take a piece of good memory home with them. Now I love to encourage my audience more singalongs, even in Mandarin!

Looking ahead to your upcoming body of work in 2026, what can listeners expect from this next chapter in your musical journey?

2026 will be the biggest year of my music career to date. The second single of my debut album will be released in February, followed by the third single in April and the full album in May. I’ve been building towards this release for the last three years of my life and am super excited to share it with everyone. The release will be followed by gigs around Australia in the first half of the year, and gigs in Europe and abroad in the second half of the year.

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