Music Interviews

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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“Garden-Variety Grief” feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. What moment or realisation first sparked the idea for this song?I wrote the song after my dad passed away. I was pretty messed up, and I was looking around me and noticing, for the first time, really how everyone in my life seemed to be going through something heavy. Loss is this universal thing; we’ve all been through it. But we’re still here, we’re still getting up in the morning and living our lives and even finding moments of beauty in the world, while also carrying the hard stuff with us. I think that’s a pretty wonderful thing.

You’ve described the track as “a sad/happy cry on the dancefloor.” How did you balance that emotional tension, between grief and joy, in the songwriting and production process?

I’m not sure I balanced it as much as careened wildly from one to the other! I think grief and joy exist in equal parts in the album; that’s what I was trying to capture because I think that reflects life after loss. There were lots of tears in the studio, but also lots of laughs. 

The song is your first release from a full album produced by Anna Laverty. What was it like collaborating with her, and how did her approach shape the sound and emotional depth of the track?

Anna was amazing. A lot of the songs are super vulnerable, so I knew I wanted to work with a producer who I felt really comfortable around. Anna is such a sensitive producer and empathetic person; she really made space for the emotions of it all. She also had tons of great ideas right from pre-production through to mixing. The process was really collaborative.

The title “Garden-Variety Grief” is both poetic and grounded. What does that phrase mean to you now, having lived with the song for a while?

It’s a phrase that gets to how grief is so ordinary, so common. My grief is nothing special; we’ve all been through loss. But of course, your own grief feels unique, even isolating, because no one is feeling exactly what you’re feeling. No one is grieving the relationship you had with that person in precisely the same way you are. So to me, grief is kind of extraordinarily ordinary. 

The video, directed by Nayomi Pattuwage, captures striking imagery, lamps glowing in the dark paddock. What did that visual concept represent to you?

We wanted to capture that idea of holding joy and pain together at the same time, of feeling like, even in dark places, there are moments of light. 

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You’re taking this song on a Garden Tour across Victoria, performing in community gardens. What inspired the idea of bringing your music into those open, natural spaces?

The single is about finding light in dark times. For me, the things that help me do that are community, music and nature. So I wanted to find a way to bring all these things together on the tour. And the more I started exploring, the more I realised there are countless community gardens all over the country, with people coming together to build something really positive and special. I’m just stoked I get to hang out in broad bean patches every weekend!

You’ve toured across North America and Europe and shared stages with major acts,  but this series of intimate garden shows feels quite the opposite. How does performing in that kind of setting change your relationship with the audience?

It’s really different, which I love. The shows are intimate, so I usually get to chat with most people after the set. There are usually lots of dogs and kids, plus the shows are during the day, out in the sunshine and amongst all the plants and trees and flowers. The shows feel more like a conversation with the audience, rather than a one-way thing. 

Grief is often something people shy away from talking about, yet this song feels like an invitation to connect through it. What do you hope listeners take away when they hear “Garden-Variety Grief”?

Grief can be so isolating; it creates a distance between you and the people around you. When my dad died, I found that a lot of people really struggled to know how to talk about their own grief, or to ask about mine. At the same time, I think there’s a strange comfort in knowing that everyone has been through hard stuff; we’re all walking around nursing loss. They’ve survived it, and so will you. Maybe if we talked about it more, it wouldn’t feel so isolating. So I guess I hope that people take away some sense of solidarity.

Looking ahead, what can you tell us about the upcoming album, and how does “Garden-Variety Grief” set the tone for what’s to come?

The record explores denial in many guises: denial of how you really feel, denial after losing a loved one, denial about the future. There are songs in the vein of Garden-Variety Grief, with that 90s-influenced indie rock feel, and then there are also some vulnerable alt-folk tracks. I hope people will find that there are moments of darkness and grief, as well as moments of light, humour and resilience.

Upcoming shows:

15 November – Springdale Community Garden Curlewis, Australia

22 November – Secret VIP show Melbourne, Australia

11 April – Mirrorball Ministries West End, Australia

Tickets and information at: https://www.annasmyrk.com/

‘Bad Ideas’ feels like both a confession and a liberation. What was the emotional spark that first led you to write it?

I suppose the emotional spark was a lyrical idea I had for the second verse, which was “it’s not my first rodeo, but I’ve got nothing to show for my broken heart”. The meaning behind that lyric is I get a little frustrated because after 20 years of doing this I am always referred to as an “emerging artist.” This is absolutely not exclusive to me, by the way, I actually think it’s indicative of how the music industry as a whole requires women to be constantly shiny and new. For instance, Sabrina Carpenter was nominated for Best New Artist at last year’s Grammys for her fifth studio album. I think by now, I’ve emerged! 

Sometimes I feel down on myself because I can’t help but think that if I’d had my career in any other field outside the arts, I’d have a lot more to show financially. I have this conversation with so many friends who are, on paper, incredibly successful, but can’t, for instance, buy a flat in Melbourne. I’m aware of the irony of putting these frustrations about the reality of the music business into music! 

You’ve described the song as “a cathartic release, an exorcism you can dance to.” What did that process of release look or feel like for you while writing and recording it? 

The process is always the same for me. The greatest joy I ever feel creatively comes right after finishing a song when I can step back and hear it fully realised for the first time. Nothing compares to that moment. And despite the emphasis on catharsis, the actual process of writing and recording the song came relatively easily, which is not always the case in the studio. For me, I think the actual feelings of release come from the live performance

There’s a strong undercurrent of Catholic guilt and repression running through the song. How did your own experiences with those themes shape the story behind it?

Much to my Nana’s dismay, I was the first one in my family to actually not be raised with any kind of religious indoctrination. But it was all around me growing up, and for better or for worse, there are certain patterns of behaviour that I really do think are informed by those cultural attitudes, especially around guilt, shame, people pleasing – all that really cool stuff! Even if you’re not going to mass or whatever, I think it’s hard to escape these patterns; it’s literally a part of my DNA at this point. That said there’s a lot about religious themes that I’m drawn to from an aesthetic or lyrical point of view.

The production has this lush, cinematic quality — a blend of desert psychedelia and 70s warmth. What drew you toward that sound for this record?

I’ve always been pulled to a more 60s/70s sound, and my sonic references have been consistently within that era, no matter what genre of music I’m writing. This record is a lot more lyrically tender than my first album and it felt right that the music should match that tenderness. It’s a lot softer than my first record and I wanted it to sound dreamy and escapist. 

You worked closely with Jules Pascoe on this track. How has your creative relationship evolved since your earlier collaborations?

We’ve been working together in some capacity for almost fifteen years now, which feels utterly absurd that so much time has passed. When we first met, we were a part of a nine piece band, I was in my early 20s and definitely at the bottom of the food chain creatively within that project (or at least that’s how it felt to me at the time!) To be blunt about it, everyone in that band who was writing music was competing with each other for songs on the record. That dynamic actually led to a lot of amazing songs being written, but I believe it was very unhealthy for the interpersonal relationships within the band. 

Because we never wrote together in CBBR, I never would have guessed that we would end up writing so many songs together. Every song written for this project is a co-write between Jules and myself. I wanted to have my name attached to this project because I didn’t on my last one, but we are very much a writing team and the band is a band. I have played in bands for most of my life and it’s certainly my preferred way to create as a musician. I love co-writing with other people, don’t get me wrong it can be challenging to create this way and I’ve had it go very very bad. But I think it always yields the best rewards musically. 

Your lyrics carry a mix of pain, resilience, and almost spiritual reckoning. Do you see ‘Bad Ideas’ as part of a healing journey for you?

I see all the songs off this record as a part of some kind of healing journey for me. It’s a bit of a vicious cycle, music is the thing that I’m best at. But it also causes me a lot of anxiety. So then I process that through music and it begins the cycle all over again! I actually think a lot of songwriters feel this way.

The upcoming album Souvenir explores everything from intergenerational trauma to climate grief. How does ‘Bad Ideas’ fit within that larger emotional and thematic landscape?

I don’t talk about it much but I’m 11 years sober now, and I always thought that once I stopped drinking all my negative self talk, the impulse to blow up my life or do the destructive thing would disappear, but it really hasn’t. Instead, I’m trying this new thing where instead of trying to numb the feelings, I just allow them to exist, which is part of what I’m trying to convey with Bad Ideas. 

You’ve been part of some incredible musical projects, from The Bangin’ Rackettes to your acclaimed debut. How do you feel you’ve grown as a songwriter and performer since then?

Everything that I do as a writer and as a performer I can trace back to CBBR. I’d been playing and writing songs for years, but joining that band took things to a completely new level. Quite literally overnight, I went from living at home and working a retail job to having to quit my job to go on tour, make a record and play Falls Festival all within about a five-week period!. 

It was a baptism by fire, and I learned so much about how to tour, how to perform, how to harmonise, how to dance and how to write a great backing vocal hook. None of which I had ever done until I joined that band.

A songwriter I admire a lot is Carol King and she got her start writing soul/pop music and for girl groups (Most famously for Aretha ). I’ve been thinking about her record ‘Tapestry’, which is a huge sonic influence for me…It’s obviously a folk/rock n roll record, but if you listen to how the songs are arranged, you can hear her background in soul within the music. I think once you have an understanding of how to write for a vocal group, it becomes the musical foundation for everything you do, it certainly is for me. Those elements of soul, girl group and pop arrangements are what I build on as a songwriter, no matter what genre I’m writing, and I owe that foundation to Clairy Browne and The Banging Rackettes. 

The single launch at Grace Darling marks a new chapter. What kind of energy or atmosphere do you hope to create at that show?

I really want the Grace Darling show to feel transcendent and communal. This record has so much emotional weight behind it, and I want the night to feel cathartic but also celebratory.

You’ve said this record is about “rapture, rebirth, and communion with the ghosts of your past.” What does that rebirth look like for Ruby Jones right now?

Rebirth, for me, looks like making peace with my past and stepping into music with joy again. I took a long break from playing live last year. I had some issues with my health that took a long time to get to the bottom of and then I had a family member diagnosed with terminal illness who passed away. I needed to step away from music at that point and return when the moment felt right. I’m so excited about this next record, it’s the music I’m most proud of and I can’t wait for everyone to finally hear it. 

‘Bad Ideas’ Single Launch
Saturday 22 November
Grace Darling, Collingwood
Support:  Hollie Joyce
Doors: 8 pm
Tickets: events.humanitix.com/ruby-jones-bad-ideas-single-launch

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What drew you to explore the idea of myth-making as a way to understand modern life, and how did that shape the tone of the record?
We all mythologise our own lives to some degree and so I was trying to really get to the heart of my own life and how I view the wider world through the medium of story driven songwriting on this album. Myths contain age old wisdom, allegory and metaphor that are useful if you’re trying to find your way so I was tapping into that in one sense. It shaped the tone of the record as I feel there’s an arc from confusion to a sense of acceptance and clarity.

You describe Modern Mythologies as both personal and universal — what moments in your own life most influenced its creation?
I’m constantly writing and I’m very grateful that I have music as a guide. It’s more like a continuation, a conversation I hope to be having as long as I’m alive, pursuing ideas and songs to document the journey. Specifically I feel this album was me searching for something deeper, meaning, purpose, a letting go of certain struggles or at least a more compassionate approach to them which in turn helps me be more compassionate to humanity.

How did confronting your past struggles, particularly with addiction and self-perception, translate into your songwriting on this album?
It was freeing but a raw thing to document. Ultimately it pushed me to be more focused, my love for being alive and for being creative outweighs my self destructive tendencies and there’s healing in the process of unraveling deep fears and insecurities. There is a mystical element to songwriting and inspiration that I wouldn’t want to totally analyse but when you step into your power and face your self there’s hope to be had in that choosing of courage.

There’s a tension between chaos and wonder running through these songs — how did you find balance between the two during the creative process?
Chaos is a creative force if you can find that balance. At one time chaos was the dominant force in my life and so it was like wild fire. I find balance in general now by being able to cultivate the quiet time I need in nature or in connection with others.

The record connects folklore and meme culture, the sacred and the everyday. How did you approach blending those worlds without losing authenticity?
It’s all about perspective, the ordinary can be profound if you wake up on the right side of the bed! My head works like that, I love connecting threads and seeing new patterns emerging. The memes of today were the slang graffitied onto a wall in ancient times, it’s all an attempt at communication.

What role did collaboration play in bringing this album to life, especially working with Gavin Glass, Peter Baldwin, and Cian Synnott?
Working with three producers was accidental and organic it wasn’t a conscious decision. Timing and circumstance just played their part and that was beautiful because I got to tune into three different environments at three different stages of the process. Each one was of equal importance & I appreciate all three experiences. It’s funny how things unfolded but it all feels right to me in hindsight, giving the album an almost anthology feel. 16 songs!

Your lyrics often read like poetry — do you begin with words or with melody, and how do the two evolve together?
Thank you, I usually sit down and start writing and the words start making their own music or they suggest a melody in their rhythm and flow that I can then elaborate on. It’s always been important to me that they can stand on their own unaccompanied if being read by someone and that they contain a multitude of things beneath the surface level.

You’ve said the process of creating brings you closer to reality. How has that philosophy changed your relationship with music over the years?
It brings me closer to reality in a sense that it brings me into the present moment where I feel awake and truly vibrant. Life happens and we all make mistakes, have our struggles and want to escape from feelings. I’m just glad I have a means of connecting and expressing with the world through the work. It means too that I look for that identification in other people, places and things.

What do you hope listeners take away from Modern Mythologies — especially those navigating their own chaos and renewal?
I hope it’s useful in some way and may spark a conversation with the person who may then look at a particular thing that’s affecting them in a new way. I hope it sparks a creative idea in someone else and they follow it because in my experience, that’s a wonderful path to explore.

After everything you’ve explored in this album, what kind of story do you think you’ll tell next?
I am open hearted and open minded for what comes next, always hopeful. I’d like to keep experimenting with different styles of music and writing! Thank you for the questions!

Upcoming tour dates for David Keenan:

Tickets avail at https://davidkeenan.com/ 

2025
• 6 Nov – Irish Film Institute (IFI), Dublin
Address: 6 Eustace Street, Temple Bar, Dublin 2, Ireland.
• 7 Nov – John Lee’s Bar & Venue, Tullamore
Address: Church St., Tullamore, Co. Offaly, R35 Y161, Ireland.
• 15 Nov – The Millhouse, Slane (final show of Chasing Myth tour + Hill of Tara visit)
Address: The Old Mill, Slane, Co. Meath, C15 FFK7, Ireland.
• 21 Nov – The Devonshire Arms Soho, London
Address: 17 Denman Street, Soho, London W1D 7HW, United Kingdom.
• 22 Nov – Rough Trade Denmark Street, London
Address: 24 Denmark Street, London WC2H 8NJ, United Kingdom.
• 26 Nov – Whelan’s / Spindizzy Records (Irish album launch night — live + in-store)
Address: 25 Wexford Street, Dublin 2, Ireland.

2026
• 13 Jan – Waterfront Hall, Belfast – as part of the Your Roots Are Showing / Folk In Fusion conference
Address: 2 Lanyon Place, Belfast BT1 3WH, Northern Ireland. https://www.waterfront.co.uk/what-s-on/folk-in-fusion/

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Paitra’s debut EP is a vibrant fusion of the genres that have shaped her musical journey: folk, rock, psychedelic, singer-songwriter, and pop. “I’ve never felt drawn to sticking within a single sound or box; each song brings out a different side of me, and I like to follow where the feelings and sounds lead,” she explains. Originally from Timmins, Ontario, Paitra grew up immersed in the rich harmonies and storytelling of ‘70s rock and folk legends like Fleetwood Mac, the Eagles, Led Zeppelin, and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. After moving to Toronto in 2017, she began blending these timeless influences with modern textures, experimenting with a sound that is both nostalgic and unmistakably her own. Over a decade of playing in various bands set the stage for her solo project in 2023, which led to the creation of this carefully crafted EP, reflecting her range and the freedom she finds in music.

The making of the EP was an adventure in itself. Paitra spent nearly a year searching for the right producer before discovering Tyler Fogerty (Hearty Har, John Fogerty), whose vision matched hers perfectly. “The very next day, the California wildfires began. We had to evacuate that night, and for nearly two weeks, we were separated amid the chaos and uncertainty,” she recalls. Yet, once it was safe, they returned to complete the sessions, bringing together the incredible musicians who helped realize her vision. The result is a genre-blurring collection that balances soft, introspective moments with bold, playful bursts of energy, blending modern alternative-pop with nostalgic California rock. From the EP’s first single, “Too Stuck (In My Head),” to the whimsical dual release of “Love Calls”/“I’m Your Answer” and the ethereal, slightly psychedelic title track, A Universal Feeling offers a glimpse into every facet of Paitra’s artistry—raw vulnerability, playful confidence, and a distinct voice that’s entirely her own.

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