Growing Pains transforms your life story into a theatrical experience. At what point did you realise your journey was powerful enough to become a story for the stage rather than simply another chapter in your career?
When I returned to the stage after a long 4 year battle with mental health issues, I wanted to create a show that was real, raw and connected with the audience on a deep level. Through that, I’d weave life stories in amongst my songs only to be told after the show that I should write a book. The notion almost felt self-indulgent until I started to see the idea more of an exchange of experience and knowledge rather than a “boast”. Writing a book still seems a little premature, so I decided to create a story-telling theatre experience that shares first hand the experiences that have shaped me as a human being.
When developing the narrative for Growing Pains, were there moments from your life that were difficult to revisit because they still carried emotional weight?
Absolutely. I had to dig up parts of my past that I had buried – Traumas battling childhood Leukemia along with my darkest mental health episodes. As hard as it is to share these experiences in the first-person, it’s also helped me to understand myself a little more – Not just the tough stuff but the good!
The production covers everything from childhood fame to personal struggles and reinvention. How did you decide which parts of your story absolutely had to be included and which parts were left out?
It all came down to two questions.. “What do I want people to get out of this?” and “How do I want them to feel?” I knew I didn’t want a surface level nostalgic trip – I wanted people to walk away not only feeling entertained, but inspired and maybe a little bit more understood. I also wanted the emotional journey of the show to reflect the magnitude of life lived. As dark as what it has been, I’ve had some incredibly joyous and wonderous experiences and at times, some hilarious ones!!! (Thank you puberty!).
What was it like seeing your life structured as a story with a beginning, middle and end? Did it change the way you view your own journey?
Doing work on yourself can often involve self-reflection but not like this. Seeing, performing, reliving this part of my life had me pausing many times. Sometimes that pause would be to release emotions like sadness or anger and other times it was a simple, “Damn, I can’t believe I lived that experience??!!!”. Many of us “next” our way through life and rarely take time to sit and reflect on the our lived experiences. It’s profound when you do!
Theatre audiences often connect most strongly with vulnerability. Was there a particular scene or chapter in Growing Pains that pushed you furthest outside your comfort zone as a storyteller?
Definitely the traumas of getting a lumbar puncture as a seven year old. That’s a real tough one to relive on stage and that whole segment ties in with a such a magical and popular memory on TV of me. It’s brutal in the way it reveals the duality between being a performer whilst battling a life threatening disease and the sense of purpose and magic that sparks when those two paths come together.
Music has always been the way you’ve communicated with audiences. How different was it telling your story through spoken word and narrative compared to letting the songs do the talking?
I’ve done lots of workshops, keynotes and shared stories in between songs but this is very different. I’m fully re-living them on stage with the songs used as punctuations not as the base of the show. I won’t lie. I feel more exposed up there than what I ever have.
Many people know Nathan Cavaleri the guitarist, but what side of Nathan the person do you hope audiences discover through Growing Pains?
A side that maybe mirrors in some way themselves. Many of our challenges are exacerbated by the false belief that we are alone with them. But really, we all live our own unique lives but fundamentally, we all have so much in common. I get a lot of comfort out of knowing that I’m not the only one struggling at times, and when wins are felt by others who “get it”, it makes it all the more special!
The show explores some incredibly personal themes, including identity, anxiety and resilience. What conversations are you hoping audiences have on the drive home after seeing the production?
That there are many paths “home” and sometimes the most promoted or even socially accepted way, is not the right one. That possibilities are less limited than what we’re told. For people to see their own challenges as puzzles rather than “wrongs” to battle – How much failure teaches us. Even learning how to laugh again at ourselves! Every time I hear someone’s story, I’m able to self-reflect with a new perspective that opens my world up. I’d love this show to be the catalyst for that!
If someone walks into the theatre knowing nothing about your career, what do you hope they take away from Growing Pains beyond the music itself?
Sorry I blended these two questions together.
After turning your life into a theatre production, did you learn anything new about yourself that surprised you during the creative process?
A few things…. That without realising, I saw myself through the eyes of a small minority who used to put me down. For that reason, I didn’t see or feel the love and therefore assumed, everybody had the same negative opinions about me.
It reaffirms how my pains have been my greatest teacher and that very rarely can we make sense of them until they become memories.
And how courageous I must have been when I was 14 years old, to go on stage in front of the same girls who hijacked my privacy to watch me go to the toilet. Yeah. It’s been long enough that I can tell that story publicly and laugh about it!
GROWING PAINS – THE NATHAN CAVALERI STORY
Tickets available from www.nathancavaleri.com
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The title “Animals That Trusted You” is loaded. What does it mean to you on a personal level?
So, the title “Animals That Trusted You” in one sense I am referring to human beings as animals. I believe there are an overwhelming majority of human beings that are super well-intentioned or I believe that the overwhelming majority of human beings are extremely goodhearted and they are trusting, they’re good natured and they truly believe in their heart when they are being told well intended things by other people that they perceived to be in power. Sometimes these people in power are simply taking advantage of these kind-hearted individuals these kind-hearted individuals trusted these people in power, saw them as leaders and follow them essentially to sometimes their own demise and I feel that we are seeing this happening definitely now and we’ve seen this happen in the past and unfortunately it will probably keep happening in the future and I just think that it is really a terrible thing for people in power to do. They know what they’re doing to mislead somebody that is well intended and really good-hearted and to steer them in not the best direction and a lot of times these individuals or those people with power doing this to the kindhearted trusting person are only doing this for their own benefit, and I find that quite disturbing.
On the other hand, the title “Animals That Trusted You” came about when thinking about the animals in the world that are being misled by humans that don’t always have the best intentions but animals for some reason still trust these people, so I think that’s the most literal with the phrase “animals that trusted you.” It’s essentially animals that have a very strong trust in other human beings. They trust the human beings to lead them around and they will follow a human being off a cliff if that’s what the human being is telling them to do.
I also think that if you know that you hold that much influential power, then what you do with that power really tells others who you are as a person. Just because you hold that kind of power you really need to take it seriously and take the responsibility seriously and I wish there were more people that would do that. What I mean by this is if you feel like you hold this type of power over others you would think you would want to do kind and loving things with this power, Or at the very least use the power to positively impact or steer somebody in the right direction, and not evil and misleading things but unfortunately some human beings don’t have this approach.
I also think it’s important for others to have their own interpretation of what animals that trusted you means. So, if you hold a different interpretation, I would honestly like to hear other people’s thoughts on what that line means to them.
“Callous” is already out as a lead single. What made that the right track to introduce this era?
I feel like “Callous” was the right track to introduce as the lead single for this album because it sets up, in my opinion, the mood of the album and what people can expect from the album plus I feel like it’s slightly upbeat. It’s very dynamic it’s got cool instrumentation and you can kind of tap your foot to it, it’s kind of like, it reminds me of a song that you can drive to or it’s like later at night and Callous comes on the radio and you’re just driving to it and you’re tapping your hand to it and it’s pretty introspective and it kind of makes you think and the phrase that repeats is “animals that trusted you” so it’s also the title of the album so I felt like that was an important line in the song and that’s kind of how I made the decision on the album title is that line repeating, I feel like that’s very poignant.
“Impoverished Shakedown” is also out now. How does it contrast thematically or sonically with “Callous”?
So, it’s kind of funny you ask that because the album originally was going to be titled Impoverished Shakedown and I was certain that’s what the album was going to be called. I actually asked a couple people that are close and trusting to me about which title they feel sticks out to them personally more and the majority chose animals that trusted you. Thematically Impoverished Shakedown in my mind is essentially asking more and more out of someone that’s already given so much and giving up so much that they really have nothing more to give but you’re still shaking them down you’re still wanting more out of them and these people are already broke they’re hungry they’ve given you everything they’ve had and you’re still shaking them down so that’s the theme. Sonically I would say Impoverished Shakedown is pretty cool because it has so many different parts to it and sonically the guitar that Stafford was able to put down and translate to the song in my opinion is some of his best work. This was one of the quickest songs that we wrote. We wrote the music for the song in a single session it probably took about man, I’m guessing 5 hours and I came up with the lyrics and the melody fairly quickly and then we obviously, you know, took it to the studio it’s on a similar wavelength as Callous but I would say it’s more Rocky and anthemic Callous is more pop rock straightforward alternative rock, whereas Impoverished Shakedown is more introspective alternative rock.
“Nonsense Just Feels So Wrong” arrived April 17. What can listeners expect from that track that they haven’t heard yet?
Yeah, good question so I feel like nonsense just feels so wrong is probably the most personal song on the album and the most minimalistic song on the album but with the most impact in the shortest amount of time. It’s got a cool guitar hook; it’s got multiple different vocal melody lines throughout the song and it kind of ends in a crescendo of harmonies and just cool sounding melodies and lyrics that just keep you guessing. It’s very powerful, very personal and it is actually my guitarist’s favorite song off the album and it’s definitely one of mine. I think it’s one of the songs I am most proud of because again it came to us pretty quickly, I was just kind of sitting there playing the guitar when Stafford was driving to our practice space and he came in the room and he came up with a guitar hook and I think we finished you know that song as well the same night, it just all kind of came together, fairly quickly. It’s honest.
“Sad Song in Your Town” Where does that sit emotionally within the album’s arc?
Sad song in your town was actually written many years ago I think I wrote it all the way back in 2009-ish and it was actually a lot of people’s favorite song when I would play it live and it got requested by people I would say that song and another song I wrote called The Clumsy One and Can’t Steal Soul. So those were probably the three songs that people requested the most. For some reason I just didn’t release it at all and I’m glad I waited. Sad song in your town was definitely a song that, no matter what, it was going to be on this album, I had to release it. I waited way too long but that time since 2009-ish it gave me time to refine some of the lyrics to really understand what direction I wanted to take the song in and it kind of gave me more clarity of where the song needed to sit as far as tempo, as far as pacing if it needed a rock vibe, should I make the song very slow? There was a lot of mixed emotions going through my head before I recorded sad song in your town but ultimately I chose to make it slightly upbeat and more Rocky and Poppy because I feel like, you know, when I listen to that song it’s it is kind of sad but then it’s kind of like happy because at the end of the day you have each other you have someone in your life and where it sits emotionally I think is you know like letting others go, but also making sure they know that no matter what you will be there for them it’s almost like being happy you met each other but also being happy that you are also going to be there for each other and hopefully you don’t just end up a sad song in in their town, you just so you don’t end up as a sad memory, but one of the lyrics I say is “I’ll be around just got to find me when you’re down” it’s kind of like, well I’m not I’m not here, I’m not present but if you just give me a call, I’ll answer and I’ll be able to talk to you and help you out whenever you need it but also, you know, good luck going forward and it was really nice meeting you.
Across the record, you touch on heartbreak, family separation and powerlessness. Which track was the hardest to finish emotionally?
The track that was the hardest to finish emotionally, that’s a tough one to answer. I think emotionally I was having a hard time accepting the words for Wrap Around and it’s only because I was being really vulnerable with that song and I wanted to make sure that the words, and that song that I sang, were as honest is possible and I didn’t want to sugarcoat anything and I suppose hardest to finish emotionally was probably Wrap Around. But at the end of the day it was a relief emotionally also to write because I feel like I got something off my chest in a way, so it’s kind of like a positive thing because I feel like if you have a song that is emotionally draining for you as the artist, it also allows you time to think about it and to process it and to sing out that emotion and it actually can be quite therapeutic and helpful.
You’ve blended alternative rock with electronic and pop elements. How intentional was that evolution in your sound?
I mean it’s 2026. I love how electronic elements sound and I love pop music at its core. I think pop music is just fun. A lot of pop music is written in two to three minute songs and I think it was very intentional that I wrote with electronic and pop elements in mind it’s just what I love in music I tried to take the things that I love in music and also things that I envisioned and try to create a song out of it and this was the album that came out of that and it’s tough because I feel like I do have so many influences and I don’t know hopefully you can hear some of them on this album. Just overall I like too many forms of music to count and almost anything goes when I’m writing. But I would say at its core my album sounds like Indie and alternative rock music.
How did working with high level mixers and mastering at Abbey Road elevate the final product compared to your earlier work?
Asking how it elevated the final product compared to my earlier work. I believe if I hadn’t worked on the few releases and albums I did prior to this, if I hadn’t done any of that then I believe the songs wouldn’t have been as good either way even if I had like say a high-level mixer or Master working on these tracks. I’ve learned so much over the last three releases, and I actually had a couple of high-level people work on you know a few of the songs on the previous 3 releases, you know Michael Brauer, Steve Vealey and I had Joe LaPorta he’s a top mastering engineer. I just think that with time and dedication and if I’m willing to put in the work and I am willing to stay passionate about music I would hope it’s ultimately going to just keep getting better and better. So yeah, Callous and Impoverished Shakedown those two songs were mixed by none other than Adrian Bushby he’s actually worked with bands like Foo Fighters, Muse, he’s even worked with Spice Girls and a band that I really love out of the UK, Everything Everything.
I also had the album recorded by a very talented producer in Minneapolis his name is Owen Sartori, he works out at F5 Sound House so shout out to him as well, he mixed most of the songs on the album and I had another guy out of I believe it was Santa Cruz his name was Math Bishop he’s worked with a few artists that I listened to in the past and respect so one of the artists he’s worked with was a band called Talk Time I just loved what he did with the mixing and he’s also mixed I believe a couple Taylor Swift songs so that doesn’t hurt either. Math ended up mixing “Sad Song in Your Town” on this album.
So when it came to mastering the album mastering is the final process of your completed song it’s kind of like the last audio engineer comes in and makes your sound, sound amazing through a home stereo a giant stereo setup and I actually reached out to Abbey Road Studios to master this album and I was thinking about which artists or which albums I’ve listened to recently that I didn’t question the sound and I kept coming back to Everything Everything’s last album called Mountainhead I also realized Frank Arkwright mastered the Smiths, New Order, Joy Division, Coldplay, Oasis, Snow Patrol, Johnny Marr and I immediately knew I had to have Frank Arkwright master the album and thankfully he agreed to it and honestly he did an incredible job and I don’t know, I’ll probably go back to him again, he’s awesome.
Looking at the full rollout from singles to vinyl and CD, what kind of listening experience do you ultimately want fans to have with this album?
So yeah, this album will be released on Vinyl, CD also any major streaming service. What kind of listening experience do I ultimate want fans to have with this album? I think whatever they prefer that they want to listen to it on, like for me I’ve been getting into vinyl recently I just love the sound and I like being able to hold the record putting it on that platter but ultimately whatever the listener chooses to listen to the album I can only hope that the experience they have with this album is one that they would want to save on their favorites and that they want to share with their family and friends and one that they would come back to and want to listen to it again and hopefully I think about you know some of the messages in the songs and what the songs actually just mean to them because at the end of the day I wrote most of these songs based on what I was feeling and what my guitarist was going through, however you know, whatever the listener is going through I want them to also be able to interpret the feelings in a way that they feel is most closely aligned to what they are going through. So ultimately, I would like for everybody, all walks of life to be able to enjoy this album no matter who they are and no matter what their background or whatever. I just hope that anybody and everybody will find some sort of relationship. I just hope that most people find that they can relate to at least a handful of songs off this album, that would be incredible.
There’s a strong sense on this EP of adulthood being peeled back, almost like you’re trying to get back to something lighter or more instinctive. How intentional was that in the writing?
I truly believe that a song quietly draws on our subconscious as it is being written, the melody, the rhythm, and the words alike. Without realizing it, I imprinted a carbon copy of the state of my soul onto these very latest songs. And when I listen to them again, it seems they call for a return to the naive and magnificent enthusiasm I felt as a teenager. So no, it wasn’t intentional, but what a great surprise!
Do you feel like this record is exposing things you might have kept buried earlier in life, or is it more like you’ve stepped into a completely new chapter and left that framing behind?
Events, people, and places have shaped who I am. It took me time to navigate life’s challenges, to learn to express my feelings, and to sort through them, so that I could finally do justice to these people and places in my writing, and thus pay tribute to them through this record. I owed them this music. I must admit that I also owed it to myself.
That idea of bottling a very specific moment in 1989, those couple of hours, how do you even begin to translate something that precise and fleeting into sound without it becoming abstract?
Music has that power: the power to evoke a scent, a memory, an indelible emotion, without trying to replicate it. In the middle of the summer of 1989, at just 15 years old, I deliberately slipped away from my parents’ watchful eyes and left the hotel to stride proudly up 7th Avenue, my Sony Sports Walkman on my ears. I was from a tiny town in southwestern France; imagine what a huge shock it was! The world was mine for two hours. You never forget a moment like that. And like a junkie, I’ve spent my whole life looking for a way to relive it. It was definitely worth a song. I dedicate “Manhattan 89” to that fearless kid we all used to be, the one we should never let be silenced within ourselves.
“Terry” has its own emotional weight, especially knowing you sent it to Terry Reid while he was still alive and unwell. When he responded, what stayed with you most, and did it change what the song meant to you after that?
Terry Reid was a genius, a tremendous artist, and a wonderful man. He was a giant, and yet instead of intimidating you, he gave you wings. In fact, he was the first to give me wings. I was lucky enough to work with him, to get to know him and his loved ones well, until we became friends. We even had plans to work on his new album together.
I wrote and recorded this song, “Terry,” before he became seriously ill last year, and I sent it to him a month before he passed away. It was absolutely essential that he heard it, that he knew, through the music, that I loved him and that I was grateful to him. He was very moved by it, just as I still am right now as I am answering your question.
“Terry” has become a bridge between us, the kind of bridge we hope will last forever. Music can do that, too.
There’s also this quiet thread of your grandmother running through the record, not overt, but always there. Did that presence shift how you approached tone or instrumentation at all, even subconsciously?
As for the track “So Long,” the image of my grandmother immediately came to mind as soon as I played the first few chords on the piano. She passed away a long time ago now. But I can still feel her presence. Especially in moments of uncertainty, when the coin could land either way. She still helps me, just as she always did.
During the last years of her life, I wasn’t there for her as I should have been. Today, I am finally engraving my love for her.
And then you’re in the Hotel Chelsea, recording piano in a space that already carries so much history. Do you feel like the room dictated anything in the performance, or were you trying to shut that out completely?
It happened one day in the summer of 2024 in New York (much like a certain summer of ’89). My girlfriend and I had decided to visit the Hotel Chelsea, where so many legends and artists of all kinds had lived for decades. The hotel was still under renovation, but we were able to go inside.
You might think I’m crazy, but I immediately sensed something unusual; I could almost hear whispers coming down the monumental staircase. At the end of the hallway stood an old upright piano. I sat down at it, mechanically, naturally. The hallways were empty. Well, empty, not really.
I really felt a peaceful presence right over my shoulder, guiding my hands across the keyboard. So I started playing, improvising some chords and a melody, while my girlfriend was filming the scene. The piano you hear on the track “Hotel Chelsea” is the very same piano recorded inside the Hotel Chelsea that day, perhaps with a little help from some friendly ghosts…
You’ve moved between some pretty different worlds sonically and geographically, Iceland, Nashville, Paris, New York. At what point do those places stop being “influences” and start becoming part of the actual writing process?
Ever since I was a child, I’ve always felt the need to set out on adventures. I grew up surrounded by nature, with the ocean on one side and the forest on the other, between two endless horizons. The need to discover what lay at the far end of each has always driven me.
And then music became my vehicle, almost my excuse, to go further and bring back a personal and unique souvenir: an album, a song, a lesson learned, a story.
The shift between recording in Paris with Antoine Delecroix and then finishing in New York with Fred Kevorkian, did that distance help clarify the emotional tone of the record, or complicate it?
It felt very natural and rewarding. This record needed to go through that journey to refine itself. Antoine and I created the sound, and Fred took it to the next level. We always come back from an epic trip better than before, and so does the music.
Your last EP, the first chapter of La Vie, set a very specific emotional frame. Where does this second part sit in relation to it, is it answering it, breaking away from it, or something else entirely?
Since it’s sung in English this time, “La Vie Side B” is more like a postcard you send to yourself from a faraway land. It is both hopeful and nostalgic. When you receive it, it makes you feel good. And later, when you read it again, it feels the same.
And on a simpler note, what’s it like knowing people are connecting so deeply to something you’ve deliberately kept so quiet and restrained?
It’s magical. It’s rare and fragile. It’s what AI tries to replicate every day, with no real chance of ever truly succeeding. We live, we suffer, we pick ourselves up, we write to feel better, and if it’s sincere, if it’s human, if it’s the fruit of our own labor, and if the stars align, then maybe the music manages to touch someone else.
It happens to me sometimes, and it fills me with joy and gratitude every single time.
Tracklisting
Manhattan 89 (4:35)
Terry (3:35)
So Long (2:32)
Hotel Chelsea (2:05)
How much of your new track Medicinal Liquor came from lived experience versus character-driven storytelling, and where do you personally draw that line when writing?
For Medicinal Liquor, pretty much all of it was drawn from personal experiences and emotions. I’ve always been drawn to writing with imagery and metaphor because it helps communicate a feeling without having to spell out every detail.
As for where I draw the line, I don’t think I’ve reached it yet. There are definitely things I’ve chosen to disguise or soften through storytelling, but the emotions behind the music are real. Even when the details become more artistic, the feeling I’m trying to convey is always honest.
There is a tension in the track between emotional collapse and control. Was that contrast intentional from the beginning, or did it reveal itself naturally as the song developed?
A bit of both. At this stage in my life, I’ve become a very different person to the one who was experiencing a lot of the things talked about in the song. Medicinal Liquor is a showcase of both the struggle and the growth that came from it. The emotions are real, but so is the strength that was built by going through them.
The production feels immersive without becoming over polished. How important is it for you to leave imperfections in your music?
Funny enough, there’s actually a small audio glitch right at the start of the song that I decided to leave in. It almost sounds like a record player starting up, and at some point I stopped hearing it as a mistake and started hearing it as part of the atmosphere.
I record all of my vocals in my room rather than a studio because that’s where I can really immerse myself in a song emotionally instead of chasing perfect takes. For me, it’s about finding a balance. I want the music to sound polished, but not so polished that it loses its character.
When you are writing under the name Mr Elusive, do you feel like you are stepping further into yourself, or creating distance from who you are away from music?
It’s a bit of both. On one hand, writing as Mr Elusive allows me to go deeper and give a voice to thoughts and emotions that don’t always make it to the surface in everyday life. A lot of the music comes from places I probably wouldn’t express as openly in a normal conversation.
At the same time, Mr Elusive feels like the side of me that normally stays hidden. It’s not a character, but more a part of my personality that gets brought into the light through music. In a way, it’s the elusive side of me becoming visible, with each song acting as a piece of that picture.
A lot of independent artists talk about the pressure to release music constantly. Did Medicinal Liquor come together naturally, or was this one of those tracks you kept pulling apart and rebuilding?
Medicinal Liquor actually came together pretty naturally, which isn’t always the case. Some songs get pulled apart and rebuilt over and over again, but this one felt like it knew what it wanted to be from early on.
That said, I definitely feel the pressure that comes with being an independent artist in a world that moves so quickly. A big reason I stepped back from releasing for a while was to focus on improving the music and building a bit of a vault of songs. That way I could stay consistent with releases while still having time to work on new ideas. You’ll definitely be seeing a lot more of me moving forward.
The atmosphere of the track feels almost cinematic. Were you deep in any particular headspace while making this one?
I’m glad you felt that because it was slightly intentional. I wanted the song to feel almost like a movie trailer, where every scene is building tension and emotion towards something bigger.
The very first line actually came out raspier than I had planned, but the second I heard it back I knew it was right for the song. It felt like it captured the atmosphere perfectly and set the tone for everything that followed.
A lot of the headspace behind the track came from a particular chapter in my life. There was a lot of raw emotion that surfaced while writing it, and in a way the song became a trailer for that chapter of my story.
Do you think audiences are connecting more deeply with emotionally complicated music now because everything else online feels so curated and overstimulated?
I think once people find it, then yes. Some people are perfectly happy where the algorithms take them, while others are actively searching for something that feels a bit more raw, real and emotionally complicated.
Life naturally moves up and down, and when people hit those lower moments, music can give them a place to sit with what they’re feeling. Everyone experiences those moments at some point, and I think that’s why songs that come from a genuine place continue to connect with people regardless of trends.
What part of the song took the longest to get right, and was there a specific moment where you realised the track was finished?
The chorus definitely took the longest to get right. The verses came together pretty naturally, but I knew the song needed something stronger to tie everything together and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
Then my dad randomly mentioned “Copperhead Road” by Steve Earle during a phone call and it instantly unlocked the missing piece. I remember cutting the conversation short because I wanted to get back to recording before I lost the idea.
That was probably the moment I knew the song was finished. Once the chorus clicked, everything felt like it belonged together.
There is a real sense of restraint throughout Medicinal Liquor. Did you ever feel tempted to make the track bigger, louder, or more commercially direct?
I wasn’t really thinking about restraint consciously, but I was trying to serve the song. There were definitely things I could have added, but sometimes what you leave out is just as important as what you put in.
As an independent artist building momentum right now, what do you think people misunderstand most about the reality of making and releasing music in 2026?
I think people underestimate just how much goes into being an independent artist today. It’s a lot more than writing songs and jumping on stage. It genuinely feels like having two full-time jobs because there are so many different skills you need to develop if you want to turn it into a career.
There’s the creative side of writing, recording and releasing music, but then there’s also everything that comes with building an audience around it. Social media, content creation, marketing, networking and all the moving parts in between. The list never really ends, and all of those industries are constantly changing.
My friends and family have pretty much gotten used to the same answer whenever they ask what I’ve been up to: grinding.
La La Falls feels like a natural continuation of the world introduced in Vincent, but it carries a very different emotional and visual energy. What pulled you back into this world, and when did you realise there was still more to explore in Vincent as a character?
It wasn’t something that was a naturally easy decision for me. Firstly, after finishing the first film Vincent I never in my wildest dreams imagined that I would reprise the character, in fact it couldn’t have been further from my mind. I thought that was it, done!
After we screened the film at various festivals I had a lot of people wanting to know if the character was going to be reprised and there was also a great interest in the relationship with Gunther and Vincent continuing. The shoot and role had been so demanding, the thought of going back to that place mentally and physically, sort of really turned me off. In hindsight it was probably a bit of PTSD!
And so, as filmmakers do, I prepared myself to move on to working on my next project, fumbling from one idea to the next.
So, there I was twiddling my thumbs wondering where to go, when I remembered a lesson from art school. I was taught by some gifted educators, if we persist with a theme or body of work we feel is finished and push through, that’s often the point we find the best discoveries.
I thought, well if the feeling to stop with Vincent was so strong, maybe the discoveries on the other side will be equally strong if I push through. So that was that, decision made and away I went!
Across both films there’s a constant pull between emotional states—humour and sadness, stillness and disruption, connection and distance. What draws you to that shifting ground, and do you think cinema is uniquely able to hold it without trying to resolve it?
That’s a really interesting observation and for me it’s that shifting ground that gives the characters, the narrative and the work its dimension, complexity and authenticity. I’m fascinated with contradictions and incongruities in people. This polarity for me, is the epitome of the human condition – love/hate, peace/war, inclusion/isolation etc.
As an artist to be able to present this constant pulling back and forth is a wonderfully energetic bandwidth to work within and the madness of it all can be so bloody funny at times, whilst in equal measure also so incredibly sad. It’s a pretty fertile feeding ground for a filmmaker.
The fact there is no resolution is perhaps the resolution in itself. I wouldn’t say cinema is unique in holding this without resolution, I think this push/pull duality is expressed in all art forms painting, music, poetry, dance etc.
There are moments in La La Falls where it feels like a scene could go anywhere at any second. Was that sense of unpredictability something you were shaping deliberately, or something that naturally emerged once you were inside the shoot?
I shaped this intentionally with the script beforehand and we implemented this during the shoot. I really wanted to add a natural feel to the film, so the script for La La Falls was written with a combination of both written dialogue and structured story allowing room for improvisation.
These elements of improvisation allowed for more unpredictable and spontaneous elements to be introduced to the overall film. It also allows for much more natural performances, especially from the non-professional actors in the cast, as delivering written dialogue is a learned skill and making it sound natural is very hard for first timers compared to improvisation.
WATCH THE TRAILER
You’ve described the film as sitting somewhere between a structured script and improvisation. Once you were on location with the cast, how much did that original structure start to loosen?
About 70% of the film was scripted with dialogue and we pretty much stuck to this during the shoot. For me, I really need to have that scripted dialogue structure within the narrative or things can get ‘too loose’ with too much improvisation and the film loses all its shape, turning into a bit of a mess. It’s definitely a balance.
The performances feel really immediate and unfiltered, partly because many of the people on screen are non-actors or people you already know. What does that kind of familiarity unlock for you that traditional casting doesn’t?
Many of the roles in the script were written around the personalities of the non-actors I cast. Knowing them as friends for some time, really allowed me to tailor and write each role to their personalities.
In a traditional casting sense, an actor needs to infuse elements of their personality into a role that has already been written. The difference between the two approaches is one is bespoke, tailored and written specifically for the individual based on an intimate knowledge of their personality, the other is not.
Shooting in black and white gives the film a very specific atmosphere—almost like it exists slightly outside of time. What made that the right choice for this story?
Well to start with, I absolutely love shooting in B&W, most of my short films have been in that format, and it’s always ‘just called me’ so a progression to B&W for a feature film was only a matter of time.
And secondly both Vincent and La La Falls have both looked to question whether what’s happening really even exists, or whether it’s all just the delusions of a mentally ill recluse.
The explosion of colour in the first film, I believe gave Vincent a hallucinogenic, dream like quality, a bit like the original The Wizard of Oz and I also believe B&W has the same ability to alter our viewer perceptions, almost as if everything is operating as you say “outside of time”.
We were so very fortunate again to have cinematographers Michael and Samadhi Schoell along with colourist Vincent Taylor follow on from their masterful work in the first film to come on board again for La La Falls, and they’ve done it again!
Coming from Vincent, which was so saturated and heightened visually, was that shift into monochrome a reaction to that world at all?
Vincent was such an explosion of colour, taking La La Falls to the opposite end of the colour spectrum allowed it to have its own distinct signature as a stand-alone work.
And looking at it now, these extreme opposites (colour/B&W) also potentially serve as a connecting thread between the two works through both the film’s themes of polarity. 
The Australian bush feels like it has its own presence in the film. It shifts from calm to unsettling in a way that really shapes the characters. How much did that environment steer the tone while you were shooting?
I wanted to reflect the way it can be calm then suddenly swallow you if it wants, nature that is. This is reflected in the story of La La Falls but was also reflected in real life on the shoot.
I’ll tell you a story, it was day four and everything was going very smoothly, the sun was out and we were shooting a very large scene by the dam on the remote bush property in Newstead. I remember even thinking “Gee this shoot has been going really well”.
Then Angela Ling my co-producer and our assistant director calmly said “no-one move stay right where you are”. I looked at her and she then calmly said “snake, very large snake”.
I looked around and about 3 to 4 meters away from all the actors/crew (some of whom were sitting on the ground and not too mobile) was the biggest bloody Brown Snake I have ever seen in my life, sunbaking without a care in the world.
Everyone very slowly got up and moved quite some distance away, the snake eventually decided to move and we had a runner follow it from a distance before it went down a hole in the ground, so we could then finally continue.
It was a good example of how the Aussie bush can go from serene to potentially deadly very quickly. So I would say the bush is one of the main characters in this film, yet somewhat of a capricious member of our ensemble, that refused to look at the script and improvise at will reminding the rest of us who is really in charge.
You made the film in just six days with a very small crew, working with a Dogme-like approach. What keeps you coming back to that kind of stripped back way of working?
Look to be honest, budget plays a big role in this, it’s much cheaper to shoot six days than ten and we are an entirely self-funded film.
That said, there is also an energy, a charge that comes from a tight schedule like this, that creates spontaneity and an environment where instincts are given top priority.
To rely more on instinct is both scary, yet also highly rewarding when it comes off. But like anything, the more you do the better you get at it.
Do you think working under those kinds of limits changes the way you notice things on set?
You develop a heightened sense as a director for what is truly important and what is extraneous. Everything gets stripped back to just what you need and nothing else.
A bit like that scene in Platoon where the rookie soldier Chris (Charlie Sheen) starts out and is hauling a backpack full of crap through the Vietnam jungle and Willem Dafoe’s character Elias goes through it and unloads all the extra shit he doesn’t need, so he can travel light and fast through the jungle.
There’s a looseness to the way the film plays out—scenes breathe, drift, sometimes even slip off track. How intentional was it to protect that feeling in the edit and on set?
I guess that comes down to my desire as an artist to recognise beats and rhythm within a work, then look to at times disrupt those rhythms and beats.
I love the way old films breathe, The Godfather or 2001: A Space Odyssey. They really weren’t afraid to embrace the power of stillness and silence.
We live in such a fast food, high turnover, ADHD, TikTok, 15-20 second clip era now, that we’ve lost so much of that! I guess my work is trying to protect that heritage and power of silence because for me the cinematic artform is better for it.
For me the silences and disruptive rhythms are reflective of the unpredictable and non-linear nature of life and as artists we have a responsibility to do our best to reflect life.
The relationship between Vincent and Gunther feels really lived in, with humour, tension, warmth, and silence all sitting together naturally. How did you build that dynamic?
Bill Evans (Gunther) and myself have been very good mates for quite some time, so a lot of the natural chemistry we share on screen is born from that history.
We both feel very comfortable in each other’s presence and share very similar interests and a sense of humour. So I think much of that warmth and trust naturally transfers to the screen.
Your work often focuses on people slightly outside of conventional spaces or systems. What keeps pulling you toward those kinds of characters?
I guess as an independent artist, I can really relate to people trying to survive on the fringes or outside of a conventional system. I’ve always gravitated towards these types of stories and as a filmmaker I very much like being involved in their creation as well. 
A lot of contemporary cinema feels quite polished and controlled. Do you think something gets lost when everything is too refined?
Absolutely, for sure. For me everything gets lost, the heart and soul gets completely ripped out. The rough edges and disruption are what makes something real, gives it depth. Polish and control is a mask to the soul.
You referenced Henri Matisse in your director statement, especially that idea of returning to a more instinctive way of seeing. How much do you still rely on instinct when you’re making decisions on set?
Well as mentioned earlier, it’s primarily a creative survival mechanism, when working within such a tight shooting schedule.
That said, there are months and months of pre-planning that go into these films, to ensure the instinctive decisions are also made within a safe working space and a very meticulously planned shooting schedule.
So the two, planning and instinct work very much hand in hand. Otherwise it becomes unsafe and too messy.
Music plays a really specific role in the film, especially “Alles hat ein Ende, nur die Bratwurst hat zwei”, which sits somewhere between humour, melancholy, and something existential. What drew you to it?
Well to be honest, I was just searching for a really nasty, dirty, hard grinding Euro dance track for when Bad Banjok (Les Mosnyi) first appears and I came across the work of this German DJ Sascha Ende.
As we operate on a micro budget all our music is sourced through a creative commons license and his stuff was available through this channel for use in film. I absolutely loved that particular track “Alles hat ein Ende” and thought it was perfect.
The real thrill came when I managed to get it translated to English and discovered the main verse was “Everything has an ending only the bratwurst has two”.
I couldn’t believe it! It was perfect for La La Falls – funny, cheeky, silly, poignant, and absolutely relevant to the themes of duality, life/death, love/loss in the film! It was like one of those magic moments when everything clicks.
Both Vincent and La La Falls were made quickly and under intense conditions. Do you think that pace creates a kind of honesty that can disappear in bigger productions?
Absolutely, as mentioned earlier when working at a really quick pace, you are losing all the extraneous load, you can travel light and quick but there is also a vulnerability and honesty in that, as you are stripped back to the basics.
In a metaphoric sense you are in your underwear and talking to the crowd, so you need to make sure what you are saying is worth listening to. 
Your background in painting and fine art still comes through in the way you frame images. Do you still think of filmmaking as a visual practice first, or has storytelling taken over that space?
For me it’s not one or the other, and to throw a spanner in the works, I see audio in film as just as relevant as visual.
So I guess I see filmmaking as a visual, auditory and storytelling space, in what measure for each, I’m not sure. For me thinking now about it maybe the proportions of each change for each different project.
There are moments where humour suddenly tips into something more fragile or painful. How important is humour to you when you’re working with heavier emotional material?
I really do think the two go naturally hand in hand. We laugh in our darkest times and cry in our happiest. I guess it comes back to that polarity I love to work with.
In the broader film world, multiple genres in a single film tend to be looked down upon, as if the filmmaker was somehow confused, unfocused, couldn’t decide what he was doing, or unclear on what his message was.
For me as long as people continue to have multiple genres then characters and films need to as well.
Looking back now, what do you think La La Falls revealed about your process that Vincent didn’t?
La La Falls was such a different experience to the first film, the lessons carried forward were huge! From planning, to shooting, to post production, nothing beats having that experience.
Sort of like the difference between having a first and second child. Even though our process remained the same, it was how we functioned within that process changed.
We were much more efficient, organised and calm due to the experience we had gained on the first. I hope that we can keep moving forwards with these learnings onto the next.
After two fiercely independent features made this way, do you feel like you’re moving closer to defining your voice as a filmmaker, or further away from needing to define it?
Both.
WATCH THE TRAILER
WEBSITE
What was the first spark that led to writing “i cant believe it” and how quickly did the song come together once the idea landed?
The first spark that kicked this song off was we wanted a song that would punch you in the face straight away but it needed to have the story to go along with it I (Mitch) had some lyrics in my phone about a situation ship I was in and kinda spiraled into that for inspo.
The track explores the confusion of a love triangle. Was it important for you to show both the excitement and the emotional fallout at the same time?
Yes it was important because we wanted the song to be from one persons perspective creating a song for the friend zoned lovers out there, the people that find themself caught between friendship and someone they love.
There is a real balance in your music between polished synth pop and raw indie rock energy. How have you developed that sound as a band?
Honestly by watching some of our influences doing it like The 1975 , The Rions, Holly Humberstone they all have amazing balance of synth pop with indie rock. I guess for us it comes from our love for the British Pop Rock Scene and the blend they have mastered over the years and adding our Aussie taste onto it.
“i cant believe it” feels huge and festival ready while still sounding personal. How do you approach writing songs that connect on both levels?
Sheesh I mean festival ready sounds like music to our ears! I guess it all starts in the writing process for Me I grew up writing and singing country music and I feel like my story telling and what I choose to write about stems a lot from that but then also being aware with what sounds good in modern music today and people just wanna dance and belt there hearts out in the car.
Your live shows have built a strong reputation across the east coast. What do you think people remember most after seeing a Colleen Ave set?
This is actually something we’ve put quite a lot of thought into actually so for one of our songs “Shit Shower” we have a old telephone that we have turned into a mic and that’s a big crowd favorite at the shows bc I do a little skit before I then answer the ringing phone and start singing the opening lines we always value bringing an unforgettable show first and those “pull your phone out” moments.
Looking back at Space For You and your earlier singles, where do you feel the biggest growth has happened creatively?
Definitely how we write music now, before it was more individual for example someone in the band would write a song they would finish the song then all of us learn our parts. Now it’s a lot more sessions together not only writing a song together as a band but also coming up with all of our parts together bouncing ideas off each other. Its been a big difference in the quality of our new tunes.
Queensland has such a strong independent music culture. How has your local scene influenced the way Colleen Ave operates as a band?
I remember coming to Brisbane for the first time and it’s daunting because it’s a big city but everyone has your back in the community here in Brisbane. Big thing for us and how we like to operate is trying to be as local as possible weather that be the music distributor we go through (G.Y.R.O.) and also where we get merch (Slosh Printing) all local.
Launching your own festival with Hair of the Dog is a massive step. What inspired you to create something that supports other Australian artists as well as your own music?
Well the answer is as simple as more opportunity. To think that we have now hosted two hair of the dog festivals and the 1st went from Indooroopilly Hotel to the The Triffid was insane, us as a band and the size that we are would never of thought of playing at the Triffid unless it was for opening for someone yet the first time we played there was for a festival completely independently ran by us is a dream come tru honestly and so amazing for the community and local music scene to have a reason to play on a stage like The Triffid.
When you are putting together new music, do lyrics usually come first or does the atmosphere and production shape the story?
This is a great question and normally id say lyrics but now days ill say the atmosphere and production bc that’s what gets my creative juices going is a vibe and foundation being solid then letting that vibe take the song where it needs to go.
With “i cant believe it” out in the world and momentum building around the band, what feels like the next big goal for Colleen Ave?
The next big goal for Colleen Ave is to sell out a tour having people listen and love the music that we’ve created and have that spread all over Australia and the world is so special and to feel that impact you could have on people will be special.
CONNECT WITH COLLEEN AVE:
INSTAGRAM |TIKTOK | YOUTUBE | FACEBOOK | SPOTIFY
Photography: Jake Harm Nam
Heavy bass shook the concrete floors of Sydney’s UNSW Roundhouse on Thursday night (14/05/26) as Maggie Lindemann tore through a sold-out room. Stopping in town for her I Feel Everything tour, the California singer gave fans zero room to breathe, launching straight into a high-octane setlist that kept the floor shaking from the first chord. Our photographer fought through a sea of hands to capture the sweat, the strobe-lit chaos, and the raw vocal power of a classic alt-punk night.
CAMEO HD leans into cognitive overload—was that concept something you were consciously building, or did it emerge naturally through the production process?
I realized it was something I was building subconsciously. That sense of overload was already present in my mind at the time, so it was always a kind of hidden intention. At a certain point, it became clear while I was listening back to the first tracks and scrolling through YouTube Shorts. I was getting distracted by other things, and my music reflected that. I stopped for a moment and had a clear idea of what the album was going to become. My hidden intention was clear. From there, I shaped everything around that idea and decided to turn it into a concept album. It all felt very natural, almost impossible to ignore.
You describe the album as “doom scrolling through music”—what does that actually look like when you’re in the studio?
When we doom scroll, we move through a flow of random content where time disappears and attention locks onto fragments without control. But somehow we like it and want more. CAMEO HD works in a similar way—it’s like doomscrolling through sound. I ended up wanting more and more layers, just like you end up wanting more and more content in a feed. In the studio, that translated into sudden shifts, overlapping ideas, and a constant recontextualization of the material.
There’s a tension between control and chaos across the project—how do you personally navigate that balance when creating?
I don’t want control in the early stages of creation. I prefer my mind to be led by chaos. For me, the creative act is about letting control emerge from chaos. I believe in chaos—I intentionally build layers and layers of material, then I select, discard, enhance, and reduce everything to its essence. What I do feels more like sculpting than composing music.
The album is dense and layered—do you see that as a reflection of modern life, or more of an internal mental landscape?
Both. What shapes our daily life also reflects what happens internally. I tend to overthink, and I’ve been diagnosed with a mild form of ADHD, mainly related to hyperactivity—that’s also what HD stands for: Hard Disk, High Definition, but mostly Hyperactivity Disorder. My attention shifts easily, and that naturally becomes part of my music. Nothing stays on a single line. Everything evolves.
At 1.27GB, the project almost feels like a statement in itself—how important was scale and excess to the identity of CAMEO HD?
CAMEO HD is a byproduct of our everyday reality—something so dense and fast-moving that it’s hard to fully absorb in one go. You have to come back to it, like you would with a museum. For me, this album is pure excess.
Your sound moves between ambient, experimental, and post-club—where do you feel most at home within that spectrum?
I tried to escape a fixed spectrum with this project—and the tracks do the same. They move across genres, escaping a clear definition. I grew up in club culture, but over time I drifted away from it. I still love it, but I was looking for new ways to relate to it. I feel like active listening has partly been replaced by visual and performative consumption, and listening carefully is what music teaches us most. That’s why, together with Enrico Capalbo (sound engineer at Fonoprint Studios), we’re trying to create a different form of clubbing—something that brings back active listening. That’s also why I want to tour only in listening bars. So yes, I’d say I exist somewhere between post-club and film scoring, which has also been a major part of my work in recent years.
Do you think listeners are meant to fully understand CAMEO HD, or just experience it?
Experience it. Understanding it in a rational way is not necessary, nor the intention. For me, music is resonance—as it’s the organization of vibrations. If something resonates, it’s wonderful. If it doesn’t, it simply doesn’t.
There’s a strong visual and conceptual energy behind the music—do you approach your work more like a sound designer than a traditional producer?
I try to blend both disciplines—that’s what makes it fun for me. As I said before, what I do feels more like a crafting process than a traditional music-making act. The same applies to the visual side. The cover art started as something I imagined in my mind, then a friend of mine brought it to life and executed it in front of me while listening to the album.
How does your Italian background influence a project that feels so globally digital and culturally fragmented?
I always force myself to inhale the local and exhale the global. What happens on a micro level always reflects on a macro scale and vice versa. My Italian background definitely shaped my sense of taste in terms of harmony, chord progression, and nostalgia—here, everything often feels like an echo of the past. At the same time, in a fully networked world, I don’t see that as a limitation. I imagine I would make completely different music if I had grown up elsewhere, but with the same underlying vision.
After exploring hyperstimulation so deeply, did creating this album change your own relationship with technology or consumption?
Totally. I’m a maximalist, but this album freed me from the overstimulating world I had created in my mind and habits. Not only in terms of social media (as I was never really addicted), but also Wikipedia tunnels while trying to sleep, YouTube deep dives into things like Hungarian choir music while working, and so on. CAMEO HD made me realize I need to be less distracted if I want to stay highly ambitious, and I hope it can help other people as well.
I used to struggle with living in the present. Now I’ve learned how to deal with presence. It also made me realize I was doing a lot, but not necessarily doing it well. So I started doing less, but better. That’s my version of “less is more”—and that sentence really makes sense only when you can express complexity in a simple and concise way. That’s difficult, but it’s the direction I want to move in.
With this work, I realized that I’m in love with the process, not the results. Perfectionism was holding me back because it’s tied to outcomes. I wanted to free myself from it, as perfection is not natural—and that’s what differentiates humans from AI: perfect imperfections.
Dreaming In Colour feels very instinct-driven—when you were making it, were you chasing a specific sound, or just following whatever felt right in the moment?
The sound came together really naturally. I wasn’t even trying to write for a specific project at the time, and that project didn’t really exist yet. I was just writing for the fun of it, and when I realised I’d made something I genuinely loved, it kind of clicked. I thought, “this is it”, this could be the sound I’ve been wanting to explore with my solo work.
After locking in your sound with ‘Paris Strut’, you mentioned everything started flowing quickly—what actually changed in your mindset or process at that point?
I think I instinctively understood what the sound was and the palette of instruments/genres it drew from. I also settled into a kind of creative rhythm that made the process feel much smoother. Each song came together in a similar way, with small variations in the process, and I think that helped give the whole EP a really cohesive sound.
There’s a strong sense of ease and movement across the EP—how intentional was that “effortless” feeling versus something that just naturally emerged?
I think a big part of it comes down to starting all the songs within the same period, using a creative approach I’d naturally fallen into, along with a fairly consistent palette of instruments. That combination gave the whole project a real sense of intention. It’s something both I and others can feel. It’s probably how I’ll continue making music for this project, as it’s been the most effortless and fulfilled I’ve felt working on a record.
Collaboration plays a role on tracks like ‘Slow Down’—what do you look for in a collaborator, and how do you know when someone fits your sonic world?
I’m lucky to have so many incredibly talented friends from years of making music, and I’m genuinely a fan of so many of them. My dream is to collaborate with as many of them as possible, so whenever the right song comes along, I’m always excited to see if they’d be up for being involved. I’m drawn to them because they’re making music I truly love and connect with, and that naturally shapes my own work, so when the energy feels right, it’s always exciting to see what we can create together.
Compared to your work with daste., this project feels more raw and groove-led—what does Monsieur Mellow allow you to express that the band doesn’t?
I love making music with daste.—it’s where I feel most challenged, and my bandmate Tyler Harden is not only my best friend but someone who constantly pushes me to be better. The difference with the Monsieur Mellow project is that it feels like a more direct reflection of my own musicality. I’m playing most of the instruments, and I think that’s where a lot of the rawness comes from. I’m less focused on capturing the perfect take and more on preserving the energy of the moment. With daste., we tend to lean more toward refinement and precision, which really suits that project.
The EP blends jazz-house, funk, and soul influences—do you think in genres at all anymore, or has that become irrelevant in your process?
I think these are simply genres I’ve always loved and continue to be influenced by. I probably do think in genres to some extent, but I try to let the music come naturally and those influences tend to reveal themselves on their own.
A lot of the tracks feel like they could exist in a live setting with a band—how important is that “live energy” when you’re producing in the studio?
I think that’s really the core of the project. I don’t want the records to feel overly polished. I want them to sound like a live band playing house or soul, even though most of it is actually just me in a room.
‘Dreaming In Colour’ as a title suggests something quite visual—do you see your music in images or moods when you’re creating it?
The name actually came after the songs. I tend to come up with names in my head all the time, but every now and then one really sticks, something that feels genuinely right. Dreaming In Colour was one of those moments. It also ended up reflecting where I was in life at the time, just stepping into a series of defining experiences, with the solo project being one of them.
You’ve described the project as being shaped by momentum and intuition—has that approach ever led you somewhere unexpected or even uncomfortable creatively?
I’d definitely say so. There were a few songs in this process that pushed me creatively, but that’s also how I knew they weren’t right for this record. They didn’t come together as effortlessly. I’ve found that the songs that feel the most natural and instinctive are usually the ones that end up belonging on the album or EP I’m working on.
Now that the EP is out, do you feel like you’ve defined the Monsieur Mellow sound—or are you still exploring what it can become?
I think I’ve definitely found my sound for the time being, and I’d love to explore it further in an album context. At the same time, you never really know what’s next, and I’ll never close myself off to new influences. I want to keep things familiar, but always push them to feel as fresh as possible.
Credits:
Co-Written by Callum MacDonald, Jackson James Smith, Soothsayers, The Finishing Touch
Produced & Mixed by Callum MacDonald
Mastered by Paul Blakey
Artwork & Visuals by Callum MacDonald
Stream:
https://bfan.link/dreaming-in-colour-ep
Monsieur Mellow:
https://linktr.ee/monsieurmellow
In The Mids feels like a turning point sonically and creatively—what specifically shifted in your mindset or process compared to your earlier records?
I think the biggest shift was letting go of trying to control the outcome too much. Earlier records were maybe a bit more considered and structured, whereas with this one I leaned into instinct a lot more. It was about following ideas quickly and not overthinking whether they fit into a “Sola Rosa” box. That opened things up sonically and made the process feel a lot more honest.
You’ve spoken about embracing spontaneity and removing self-imposed boundaries—how did that actually play out in the studio day-to-day?
It meant working fast and committing to ideas early. I wasn’t sitting on loops for weeks or endlessly refining things — if something felt good, I’d push it forward straight away. A lot of the time that meant capturing first takes, rough vocals, or unexpected textures and just running with them. It also meant staying open to wherever a session naturally went, rather than trying to steer it toward a fixed idea.
The album leans heavily into collaboration as always, but with a different energy—what are you looking for in collaborators now that you weren’t 10 years ago?
These days it’s less about finding a perfect stylistic fit and more about energy and what can happen in the room on the day. I’m drawn to people who bring something unexpected or shift the direction in some way. Ten years ago I probably leaned toward collaborators who sat neatly within the Sola Rosa sound — now I’m more interested in that tension or contrast, or just taking more risks with a collaboration.
A lot of this record was shaped during a disruptive period in your life—did that instability unlock something creatively that a controlled environment couldn’t?
Not necessarily. The disruption was part of the backdrop, but creatively things really started to click once I found a bit more balance. That’s when the record properly came together.
There’s a noticeable balance between electronic textures and organic groove—how intentional was that tension when shaping the sound of this album?
It was definitely intentional, but not overly calculated. That balance has always been part of Sola Rosa in some form, but with this record I wanted to push both sides further — leaning more into electronic, textural elements while still keeping things warm and organic.
I was also DJing a lot more during that period, which probably had a big influence. I was listening to music through the lens of what would move a crowd, and that naturally fed into how I approached the album. It’s not necessarily a dance record, but that influence is definitely there.
After 25 years under the Sola Rosa name, how do you avoid creative repetition while still maintaining a recognisable identity?
For me, it comes down to staying curious. My influences are always shifting, and I’m constantly listening to new music and what the next generation is doing. That keeps things moving forward and helps prevent the sound becoming too fixed or repetitive.
You’ve described parts of the album coming together very quickly—do you trust fast ideas more now than overworked ones?
Yeah, definitely more than I used to. There’s a certain honesty in those early ideas that can get lost if you keep overcooking them. That’s not to say everything should be rushed, but I’ve learned that if something connects straight away, it’s usually worth trusting that instinct rather than overworking it.
Touring Aotearoa with this new material—how will the live show differ from previous iterations of Sola Rosa?
This tour is leaning much more into an audio-visual experience. It’s not just about playing the tracks — there’s a stronger focus on creating a full atmosphere around the music. Sonically it also draws more from the electronic side of the record, so it feels more immersive and dynamic compared to previous shows.
Looking back at your earlier catalogue, is there anything you would approach differently now with the perspective you have today?
Not really. I can’t change the past, and I know I gave everything 100% at the time of making each record. I loved those tunes when they were made, and even though I find it hard to go back and listen to a lot of my own music, it all came from an honest place — I was always fully invested in what I was creating.
There are definitely moments in the earlier catalogue where I can hear I may have overworked things a bit. The only record where I feel some ideas weren’t fully realised is Magnetics — there are some strong concepts there, but it was rushed due to pretty difficult financial circumstances at the time.
SOLA ROSA ‘IN THE MIDS’ AOTEAROA TOUR DATES
Tickets via solarosa.com
Friday 22 May Double Whammy TĀMAKI MAKAURAU / AUCKLAND
Saturday 23 May Puketapu Community Hall HERETAUNGA / HAWKES BAY
Friday 29 May DeVille WHAKATŪ / NELSON
Saturday 30 May Hide ŌTAUTAHI / CHRISTCHURCH
Friday 5 June The Mayfair NGĀMOTU / NEW PLYMOUTH
Saturday 6 June San Fran PŌNEKE / WELLINGTON
LDDWYD (Love Don’t Do What You Did) came together really quickly from what started as a poem — what was going on in your head at the time that let it come out that honestly?
I’d actually written a lot of LDDWYD already in my notes app after this super intense dream about an ex. We were chasing each other through this dense forest- it felt really desperate and exhausting. When I woke up, it hit me that we’d been weaponising love and hurting each other over and over again. That realisation was so hard to come to and quite confronting, and the lyrics came straight out of that moment of clarity.
There’s that realisation in the track about loving someone who can’t love themselves — was that something you fought against for a while, or did you kind of know deep down where it was heading?
I definitely fought it for a long time- years. I was really in love with them.
But I think deep down I knew we were both struggling with self-worth, and that was kind of the root of everything. I’ll probably always love them unconditionally, but I had to stop loving them blindly.
The title feels pretty direct, almost like calling it out for what it is — did that come naturally, or did you go back and forth on it?
It kind of named itself, to be honest.
When I was in the studio with Sunday and Nadia, we just started calling it “LDDWYD” as a shortcut, and it stuck. It felt honest but also a bit cryptic, which I really liked.
You’ve described the song as an “introspective collapse” — when you’re actually in that space, what does creating even look like day to day?
It’s honestly not cute at all hahaha. It’s messy and really repetitive. I was basically just sitting in one feeling and trying to understand it through writing.
I wasn’t making full songs- it was voice notes, random lines, half-thoughts. Even the repetition in the track, like “you don’t know what love is,” came from saying it over and over because it hadn’t fully landed yet, and because it felt validating.
There was also this weird split where part of me was still confused, and another part of me could see everything super clearly. That’s where “I think life knows something I don’t” came from.
So yeah, it wasn’t structured at all- more like grabbing little moments of clarity in the middle of the chaos and not judging myself or trying to clean it up too much.
The video at Flinders Blowhole has that slow climb from sunrise to sundown — was that idea locked in early, or did it evolve once you were on location?
That was actually really clear in my head from the start. I brought it to Pat from Tunelab and he immediately got it, which made everything feel super easy.
But on the day we definitely played around a lot. The core idea stayed the same – the climb to the cliff edge symbolising my journey to the realisation, the emotive performance- but a lot of the smaller moments, especially the drone stuff, just happened on the spot.
Your Chilean heritage seems to shape how people connect with your music, especially within the Latin Australian community — do you feel that when you’re writing, or only once the songs are out in the world?
I think I feel my heritage more present as a sense of purpose when I’m writing.
I think about the women in my lineage who didn’t have the same freedom to express themselves, and that kind of pushes me to be really honest. Then visually, I like to bring it in more intentionally. Like the REMUSE Designs outfit was flamenco-inspired, and the braids and white liner were my own little nod to mapuche ancestral practices including long braids and face paint to symbolise spiritual transformation- just reinterpreted in my own way.
With Cry Until We Laugh, it feels like you move through a lot emotionally — grief, anger, then something closer to peace — did you always see it as a full story like that, or did it click later?
It kind of revealed itself to me over time, like a cool puzzle to figure out.
Looking back, it doesn’t just feel like the story of the EP- it’s actually how I move through heavy emotions in my day-to-day life. I really have to feel everything and ‘cry’ before I get to inner peace and joy. So it ended up reflecting how I process heartbreak in real time, without me even planning it. It’s so cool when that happens- when the art mirrors life like that.
Switching between English and Spanish adds another layer to the storytelling — do certain emotions just land better in one language than the other for you?
Yeah, 100%. Sometimes it just happens naturally- my brain will go to Spanish and I won’t question it. Other times it’s more intentional because it just hits harder emotionally.
You’ve mentioned having to “trust fall” into your community while making this — who were the people that really showed up for you during that time?
Definitely my family- my mum, dad, and little sister.
My friends and bandmates at the time were amazing. They gave their time and talent, and really believed in my music. That kind of support honestly carried me through one of the hardest times in my life- I don’t think I could’ve made this project or be the person that I am without music and my community.
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What does “The Finish Line” represent to you beyond the literal meaning, and how did that concept shape the emotional tone of the track?
The Finish Line encapsulates a lot of what The Wrens ethos stands for — being present, realising our time in existence is finite. We wanted to shake people awake with the track and say, “hey, we’re here, we’ve got something to say.”
How did your songwriting process evolve while creating this single compared to your earlier work?
This track first took the path of being an instrumental jam with freestyle verses. The song informed the message based on where we were at during the time. We were creating community, finding our feet, and exploring existential questions — feeling like through music we were discovering how to be and how best to make the most from life.
Was the sense of tension and release in the track intentional from a production standpoint, or did it emerge naturally?
I guess all music is exploring the contrast between tension and release. It emerges naturally as we put songs together based on where we feel the song wants to take us.
What sonic influences shaped the record, and how did they inform the final sound?
Being a band with a lot of members, we draw on a pretty wide range of influences. Some that spring immediately to mind are Parcels, The Cat Empire, Fat Freddy’s Drop, Corto.Alto, Rage Against the Machine, and System Of A Down.
What specific moment or experience triggered the creation of “The Finish Line”?
We were in a pre-production session for another track, and the riff came to one of us. The song came from there.
How do you approach balancing vulnerability and restraint in your lyrics?
There’s no restraint — I feel unrestrained in this.
Was there a particular lyric that unlocked the direction of the whole track?
The first lyric, inspired by meditation practice: “Take a moment, come to a cross-legged seat.”
How do you want listeners to feel after hearing this song for the first time?
We want them to feel whatever they feel, but notice that they’re feeling it.
Where does this single sit within your broader artistic trajectory or upcoming releases?
The Finish Line is just the beginning.
If “The Finish Line” is a chapter, what comes next in the story you’re telling as an artist?
There’s no way of knowing, but probably Wombat Road Safety.
SF WRENS ‘THE FINISH LINE’ LAUNCH SHOW
Friday 8 May The Oak TIGHES HILL
Supported by Lonely Mountain Garden Party
FREE SHOW
SF WRENS: Facebook | TikTok | Instagram | YouTube | Triple J Unearthed
You’ve spent your life chasing some of the biggest waves on the planet. When did music first become something serious for you rather than just something you did on the side?
Music became serious for me when I had a bad injury competing in 2023. My music was a way for me to heal in one of the lowest points of my life. My professional and competitive surfing career was said to be over when I sustained that knee injury. So my music career became more than serious, it saved my life.
Catch A Wave feels emotional and personal. Was there a specific moment or memory that sparked the idea for the song?
Catch A Wave was a song written when a fellow surfer of Aaron Bruno’s passed away.
How did the collaboration with Aaron Bruno from AWOLNATION come together, and what was it like working with him in the studio?
The collaboration between Aaron and I started while on tour. My producer and Label partner jimmy messer was a band mate in the original AWOL project, he reached out to Aaron to see about opening up for them on a north america tour. Aaron and I got along well and he was stoked on my story and what we were creating at Villains 4 Good records so he said let’s collaborate on something to put out. I’ve been hangin with Aaron a bunch. He is a good braddah, he loves to surf so we spend most of our time in the water or a wave pool somewhere more than the studio!
You grew up on the North Shore of Oahu, which has such a strong surf culture and community. How much has that environment shaped your music and songwriting?
Growing up on the north shore in that strong surf culture was awesome. It was radical to say the least. It just goes to show in a way when it comes to the sound and lyrics of my music. It’s raw, it’s real and it’s unapologetic just like the north shore! It’s all about the raw energy.
Surfing big waves and performing music are very different worlds. Do you get a similar feeling from being on stage as you do when you’re out in the water?
Yes they are different. The surfing was about ME, who can I be. The music is for us, who can I connect with. There are a lot of people struggling with things in this world just like me and I hope something I do or something in my lyrics can resonate with people so they know they are not alone, we are all in this fight together. Maybe one day I can help change someone’s life, maybe many people, maybe get someone to believe in themselves again and they go on and do that for others. That would be a successful career for me this time around not the titles or trophies.
You’ve been open about going through some difficult periods earlier in your life. Did music become a way for you to work through those experiences?
Yes music was the thing that gave me hope when I needed it most. I was seriously one foot in the grave. I had to get the pain, the addiction, the self induced suffering out somehow and music gave me the platform to be truthful to myself and the opportunity to tell the real story. It was either writing and getting it out or hide it and die.
When you’re writing a song, do you usually start with lyrics, a melody, or just a feeling you want to capture?
I really write songs from all over the place. But one thing is for sure it’s got to bring the ENERGY!
You’re heading to Australia for Sessions Surf Festival. What has your relationship with Australia been like over the years?
Australia is home away from home for me, it’s like a family. I have so many great memories, good and bad:) haha……. Depends who you ask. Nah but really it is like a second home for me over there. Australians are some of the most solid incredible people I’ve ever known.
With a new album on the way, how would you describe the direction your music is heading now?
ENERGY, for me it’s less about what you hear and more about the Feeling! It’s punk, it’s rock, it’s just me.
When you look at everything so far — surfing, music, life — what keeps you motivated to keep pushing forward?
Honestly ill tell it to you like this, Fuck motivation i dont need it. I’m just dedicated to LIFE, I just wanna Live……..
The Colours of Darkness feels like a record that was made as a full journey rather than just a collection of songs. When did you realise this album was going to become a concept rather than just individual tracks?
Owain – We’ve always been drawn to concept albums, so it’s no surprise to me that our debut album ended up being one. Jesse chose the tracks for this album, and as he was choosing them, he noticed there were common themes or musical threads connecting them. It’s a loose concept compared to some of the classic concept albums we love, but it’s a strong thing to have binding the album together.
Jesse – I knew it was going to be heavily conceptual from the start, because there were personal experiences giving us momentum and leading to us reconvening the band and working on a particular set of songs. The more we did that work, the clearer and more articulated the concept became: living with ill mental health and other similar pressures in the modern world.
The album explores isolation, relationships, and identity. Were those themes something you set out to write about, or did they slowly reveal themselves as the songs came together?
Jesse – Those are perennially favourite topics for me to write about! I wrote most of the album’s lyrics, but I did not sit down to specifically write about these themes; they came out simply as a reflection of how I was feeling. When it became apparent there was an overarching concept tying everything together, it became clear what songs would fit best—and they were the ones about isolation, relationships, and identity.
Owain – For the songs I contributed lyrics to, I can say that I didn’t set out to write about anything in particular. I tend to write the music and melodies first. This then leads to lyrics coming out as I sing through the song. The subject matter reveals itself as I’m singing.
There’s a real sense of space and movement across the record, especially with the longer arrangements and improvisation. How much of your sound comes from playing together in a room versus building songs in the studio?
Owain – It was actually a pretty even mix for this collection of songs. Jesse and I wrote the songs, and quite often we have basic guitar ideas worked out before taking them to the band. Once we start jamming them together, though, things always move around.
Before we started recording, we went away as a band, took our gear up to a holiday house, and spent the weekend working on the songs that would become the album. That weekend was massive for the core drum, bass, and guitar layers of the album. Even though we have many other instruments on the album, I still see these instruments as our core sound.
Once we were in the studio, that’s when we were able to start layering everything else—pianos, synths, extra vocals and guitars, strings, and even some amazing sax parts. It was these sounds that we needed the studio environment for to help us find and then build everything up.
You draw from progressive rock, folk, blues, jazz, psychedelia, and post-punk, but the album still feels cohesive. How do you balance so many influences without losing your identity as a band?
Owain – I think the main reason is that it’s still just us playing it. Yes, we are influenced by all of those genres, and yes, that can be heard throughout the album, but it’s still just us. We’re not trying to be anyone else. I still just hear us when I listen to the songs. We’ve also been writing songs for quite a while now, so that experience is also helping us keep it cohesive.
Jesse – I’d have to pretty much agree with Owain. We have an eclectic set of influences: we love many different eras of rock music; we recorded with a jazz-trained rhythm section; the two singers love two different eras of folk/singer-songwriters. There’s a bit of everything in our influences, but we just try to write and perform without any of that in mind and aim to just be ourselves, playing music that is true to ourselves. Whatever influences or genres shine through from that are just part of who we are from what we’ve absorbed.
There’s a lot of darkness in the themes, but also resolution and light. Was making this album emotionally heavy, or did it feel more like a release?
Jesse – It was a slow-moving release. Life before the album was emotionally heavy, and making the album was part of a process of moving through that. Now it’s all out there for the world to feel it as they see fit.
Owain – I can’t speak for all of the songs, as Jesse wrote most of the lyrics for the album, but for the tracks that I did contribute lyrics to, I definitely found it to be a release. Music has always been a release for me. If there’s anything going wrong or something stressful, playing and writing just helps deal with those feelings and gives them a place to go.
Working with Phan Sjarif and Adrian Breakspear must have shaped the record in some way. What did they bring to the album that pushed the songs further than you expected?
Owain – Phan was amazing during the recording of the album and the mixing of it. He really helped us get the best drum sound and performances during the initial recording sessions at The Parliament Studios. He also has some beautiful pianos and other keyboards that we were able to start laying down the keyboard sounds that would end up playing such a big part on the album. Most of the guitar, bass, and vocals were tracked at my home studio, and he gave us some excellent ideas that helped us through the recording of those parts.
During the mixing of the album, Phan made a huge difference. It’s crazy how much better the tracks sound after he does his thing. We thought what we had recorded already sounded good, but once he was finished with them… geeez… amazing.
We asked Adrian to mix the first single (‘Upper Hand’) from the album. He was excellent to work with but wasn’t actually there for any of the tracking. He really tightened what we’d recorded and polished it up. We’re still really happy that we asked him to work on that first song for us.
There’s a wide range of instrumentation across the album beyond guitars. Did those parts come naturally as the songs developed, or were you deliberately trying to expand the sound palette?
Owain – I think it was quite a natural process overall. We’ve always liked piano/keys/synths in songs, so they were a natural extension of our core sound and always seemed right to have as we were arranging the songs. The biggest surprise for me was when Jesse thought of getting sax in for a couple of tracks. An excellent idea from Jesse, and Maddy Mallis did an amazing job in the studio.
When people listen to The Colours of Darkness for the first time, what do you hope they take away from it—a feeling, a story, or just the experience of the music itself?
Owain – I hope they take whatever they need from it. It’s a great experience to listen to an album from start to finish, and I hope people enjoy listening to our album that way. I’m definitely an album listener rather than an individual song/playlist maker. We cover quite a lot of ground on the album, so there’s a lot on there to appeal to people who are willing to listen.
There are some pretty amazing lyrics on here (thanks, Jesse), which could definitely help people connect. Some topics that many other people have gone through, or are going through—these songs could help them in whichever way they need. There’s also just some great songwriting on there, so hopefully we talk to some music nerds too. I know my inner music nerd likes a lot of the little things we’ve managed to get onto the album.
Finishing a debut album is a big moment for any band. Did completing this record feel like the end of a chapter or the beginning of something new for July Morning?
Owain – When we finished recording the album, it definitely felt like the end of a chapter for me. It was almost a year of our lives. But in saying that, as it was the end of one chapter, it now definitely feels like we’re entering new territory. The gigs have started; at the time I’m writing this answer, the album is due out in five days. We’ve got plans to gig more, and we’re already talking about what the next album/recordings could be. Finishing the album has now started something new—so I guess I’ll say it felt like both, if I’m allowed to do that.
Jesse – We’ve put so much work into the release that, by default, it feels like the end of a book for me. It has raised the question, though, of “what next?” The work of getting this record out to everyone begins now. The work of building on our current momentum for another set of songs begins now. So as we move past the initial release, it’s going to increasingly feel like the opening chapter of a new novel.
If this album captures a particular moment in time for the band, how would you describe where July Morning is right now creatively and personally?
Owain – We’re trying to get ourselves into the best live shape we can for our upcoming gigs while also starting to think about new material. There are a lot of new songs we haven’t started working on yet, and I’m very excited to get stuck into them and see what happens.
On a personal level, life just keeps on doing its thing. Family life and running my guitar tuition business are pretty much what’s on the cards for me personally—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The Colours of Darkness Album Listening Party
Saturday 18th April – Sneaky Possum – Sydney, NSW
Tickets | Event
We’re premiering ‘Cocaine Soul’ and ‘From…To…’ — they feel like very different sides of your songwriting. Was that intentional, or just how the songs came out?
Writing them wasn’t intentional — I don’t really think or plan before writing (I edit as I go when needed), so it’s basically just how they came out. They’re two of my favourite songs from the new album, and I liked the idea of releasing them together as they’re so different from each other. I’ve always liked that I’m quite diverse with the types of songs I write (within the indie rock genre), and these two hopefully showcase two of my main styles, moods, and emotions in songwriting.
‘From…To…’ feels really honest and reflective. Do songs like that usually come from a specific moment, or are they built from a lot of different experiences over time?
I think generally my songs come from a build-up of different moments, feelings, and experiences. This is a heartbreak song (with moments of hope), and I tried to be as honest and as unfiltered as I could, whilst adding some bits of fiction.
‘Cocaine Soul’ has a lot of energy and feels very story-driven. When you write songs like that, do you start with the story or the music first?
I liked the idea of the verses being mini stories, but held together with a big chorus, which is hopefully anthemic and catchy. I’ve always kept notepads and notes in my phone with lyric ideas, words, sentences, phrases, and I used a word, phrase, or name to start me off. I remember the verses being a trail of thoughts that just came out. I had the guitar chords and chorus phrase for a while — “A cocaine soul will steal your rock and roll.” Two of my favourite songwriters, Bob Dylan and Bright Eyes, both have an amazing ability to spew out incredible verse lyrics (especially in the early parts of their career). They were an influence on me, amongst some other artists.
Do you remember where you were or what was happening in your life when you wrote these two songs?
I was living in Edinburgh in my early twenties when I wrote ‘Cocaine Soul’ — it’s one of my earliest/oldest songs. I wrote ‘From…To…’ a few years ago, so I’m a little older now and I’ve been living in Brisbane since 2019.
You’ve lived in a lot of different places over the years. Do you think moving around so much has shaped the way you write or the way you see things?
Yeah, I think it has, even subconsciously. The diversity of styles has definitely been encouraged by moving, experiencing different places and situations, and meeting lots of different people. One of my previous songs, ‘Home is the Hardest Place to Find’, is partly about this feeling — not really having a fixed home or that strong sense of home. A more positive way to look at it is that a few different places feel like home, but no one place feels like home in a strong, permanent way.
When you listen back to your earlier releases now, do you feel like you’ve changed a lot as a songwriter, or does it still feel like the same person writing the songs?
I feel partly the same and partly like I’ve changed and matured. The punk aggression, attitude, and visceral rawness has mellowed as I’ve got older, which is totally normal. I feel like I’ve improved at finding more interesting musical backdrops and sections in my songs. I do think the rawness and punk edge is still there, but it’s more subtle now and comes out in different ways.
Do you write pretty regularly, or do songs tend to come in bursts when you’re feeling inspired?
As I’ve gotten older, it’s more when I have the time — so more in bursts when I want to start a new project. When I was younger I was writing pretty regularly. That feels really normal, as we get older and naturally busier in life.
When you were putting the album together, did you have a clear idea of what you wanted it to be, or did the direction reveal itself over time?
The direction revealed itself over time. Like my songwriting, I don’t really like to plan what a song or album is going to be about — I let my gut naturally lead me. I’m pretty happy to be patient with it all.
What do you hope people feel when they hear ‘Cocaine Soul’ and ‘From…To…’ for the first time?
I just hope they enjoy one or both of the songs, and if they do, they’ll listen to the new album when it comes out on 29 May and spend time with my back catalogue. Like we were saying earlier, if you enjoy raw, visceral punk rock and roll you should enjoy ‘Cocaine Soul’, and if you like gentle, introspective, honest and heartfelt songs you should enjoy ‘From…To…’.
Looking at the album as a whole, what do you think this record says about where you are in your life right now?
I think it shows I still have that early-20s version of myself in me, and that I’m still improving and exploring ways to get better as a songwriter — to convey feelings and experiences that we’ve all had or can relate to in interesting and different ways. I’m generally happy and settled in Brisbane, so hopefully it has a solid foundation, like I’ve found in my life here.