Which Way to Go? explores mental health and decision-making — what was the moment or experience that first inspired you to write this song?

I wrote this song when my mental health was at a very low point. Everything felt difficult during this time and songwriting was truly one of the only things I wanted to do. Songwriting for me is my emotional release and has truly helped me to get through some of my toughest times. I always feel better after I write a song about a situation/how I’m feeling, it sort of makes everything clearer to me and provides a sense of closure.

The lyrics are deeply personal and vulnerable. How do you balance sharing your own struggles while making sure your listeners can connect with the song?

To be honest, I don’t know if I do a great job at that. I just write what I feel. What I’ve realised through releasing my music though, is that a lot of people can relate to my struggles and have experienced the same or similar feelings. Through my writing, I have realised how common these experiences actually are and naturally people have connected to my music without me needing to consciously change my lyrics.

Sonically, the track has this gentle yet powerful indie-pop feel. Can you walk us through how you and your team built the soundscape around your vocals?

Yes, it started with just the piano riff that I wrote around my melody and lyrics, and that played throughout the whole song. Then I took that demo to Lee Jones, the producer and label owner of Galaxy Music, and he instantly liked it and had a vision for it. He did an incredible job producing it and truly created a masterpiece. We hired a cellist, which took the entire mood of the song to a whole new level of heart-wrenching. I like that the song opens with its original, raw format of just voice and piano. Then by the second verse the whole party is in with the cello, guitar, bass, and drums. I like that the piece has a steady build-up of textural dynamics but then also has its moment of minimalism post bridge. I think we did a great job at making it dynamically interesting. I’d also like to pay a special mention to the four-part harmonies in the bridge, it’s so difficult for me to not add harmonies to my songs, they feel incomplete in my brain without harmonies.

You’ve been open about themes like comparison and low self-worth in your music. How has writing about these topics helped you personally?

Writing about my feelings helps to get them off my chest and into the air. But also, like I mentioned before, through releasing my music I have realised that this is actually a very universal experience. It’s very common to compare yourself to others and struggle with self-worth, especially in your younger years while you’re still learning to love yourself. Growing up I have always been an open book, someone who wears my heart on my sleeve, and a chronic over-sharer. In fact, I would find it weird when the people around me weren’t quite as open about themselves and I would almost take it as an insult thinking they didn’t trust me. What I have learnt the past couple of years is that not everyone feels comfortable expressing their emotions and sharing personal things, and that is not a reflection on me. But through this, I have also realised that EVERYONE struggles and just because they don’t talk about it, doesn’t mean they don’t experience mental health struggles too. So back to your question, writing about these topics has helped me by understanding that I am not alone, and I am not as ‘strange’ and ‘different’ as I thought.

Your last single Ghost was a playful pop banger, while Which Way to Go? feels much more introspective. How do you decide which side of yourself to explore with each release?

Honestly, I took Ghost to Lee Jones at Galaxy Music not thinking much of it, but he loved it and saw what it could look like post-production. He has these insane creative visions of things and took the piece to a level I never knew was possible. All of my previous releases were mellow, solemn, indie-pop pieces so the playful, big-production, pop song is an area I had never touched before. But I think it was nice to change up my sound stylistically and do something different. People have reacted well to it which is nice.

When you listen back to Which Way to Go?, is there a particular lyric or moment in the track that still hits you the hardest?

Probably “I hear the rain fall in the morning, don’t wanna get up for another day”. That was a deep state of depression where I didn’t want to get out of bed because of how bad things were. So that was a scary place to be in. The whole song is pretty heart-wrenching though.

Many fans say your voice has a “velvety clarity” that really pulls them in. How do you approach vocal delivery to get such emotional impact?

For a song like this, I wanted a very close-to-the-mic, gentle vocal delivery, to go along with the vulnerable, raw nature of the lyrics. I kept my vocals super breathy to add to that mood as well. However, the breathiness pulls back at the bridge and the final chorus to create a louder dynamic and a stronger vocal tone. When recording, I get myself into the mental space that I was in while writing that song to really capture the emotion. I really think about each lyric that I’m singing and how it felt to experience that. I was also very conscious of where to have clear diction, so that the listener doesn’t miss the wording, and where it was okay to relax with it.

The song tackles universal feelings of being stuck or uncertain. What would you want someone who’s going through that to take away after listening?

That they are not alone, that it’s a very universal experience, and that they are not the only one struggling. That there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. That it’s okay to speak openly and vulnerably. And it’s okay to seek help. And that everyone moves at their own pace, regardless of age.

You’ve now released two singles this year. What’s next for you — will we see an EP, album, or perhaps some live shows on the horizon?

I’m releasing another single called ‘Merry-go-round’ very soon so that’s exciting! Early next year I will also be releasing my second EP. I have a live show coming up on November 9^th at The Retreat hotel in Brunswick, Melbourne. And a possible Halloween show is in the works too.

If Which Way to Go? could soundtrack a scene in a film, what would that scene look like?

Probably a scene of a character with depression or anxiety laying in their bed staring up at the wall. E.g. Marcus in Ginny and Georgia.

Or a scene of a character who has to make a big life decision and doesn’t know which way to turn. The song also works really well with someone walking to it – like a dramatic scene of a moody, angsty walk.

Links:

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/mia.savannah.music

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/mia.savannah.music

TikTok:

https://www.tiktok.com/@mia.savannah.music

Website:

https://www.galaxy-music.net/

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/5IdbVbYDLNBjdOEWGaXRXV

YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/@miasavannahmusic/releases

Soundcloud:

https://on.soundcloud.com/szyvMqEsDpHJrCteaa

Apple music:

https://music.apple.com/ca/artist/mia-savannah/1524306139

Amazon music:

https://music.amazon.com/artists/B08D9RDRXT/mia-savannah?marketplaceId=A15PK738MTQHSO&musicTerritory=AU&ref=dm_sh_bUP3CqjoMHnLEtaDv6vChX4kG

Deezer:

https://link.deezer.com/s/318KlDn92ZhZe3rcho27h

“What’s My Name?” feels raw and full of urgency — almost like a demand to be heard. What was the spark that lit this track, and how did it evolve in the writing room?

‘For me it came with the chorus, it was a callout to all the frustrations and confusion I feel hearing about catastrophes abroad. The victims of atrocities become nameless, even with the details in the news. It’s not political, it’s personal, as I was inspired by the frustration I feel trying to highlight these issues with people who don’t care. It’s my attempt to (albeit vaguely) convince them that these issues are important no matter how much it stings to acknowledge them.’

You’ve described the song as channeling frustrations with the state of the world. Was there a particular moment, event, or feeling that tipped this into music, rather than just anger?

‘I would say the concept of “What’s My Name?” originated with my own contempt of people claiming to know me, that don’t know my name, let alone could deadname me. But with the state of the world it evolved into an anthem for people fighting for, and marching for, peoples around the world who stand up for the nameless victims of cruel regimes.’

To Octavia has always been known for blending heaviness with melody — but on MELODRAMA the darker tones feel more unapologetic. How did you decide to push further into that heavier space?

‘Really, the heaviness of MELODRAMA comes from our mental states while writing. It’s as simple as that. We were angry and hurt and sad and all of those things during the writing process. We wanted to make an album that represented us as a collective at this specific point in time, and this is the result. It’s darker, heavier, and more of a middle finger up to everyone than we’ve ever felt brave enough to do.’

Working again with Chris Lalic, who knows your sound inside out, must give you both comfort and challenge. How did he shape the sonic landscape of this record compared to your past releases?

‘I would say this was the release he was most “hands-off” with, in terms of writing. We came to Lalic with more songs almost fully formed than we ever had before and I think just having him there for guidance was a tool in our belt that we exploited as much as possible, while being able to completely maintain our own vision and concepts for the album.’

Nav Jay officially joined the fold during this album cycle. How has his addition changed the band dynamic, both creatively and personally?

‘Nav joining gave us a wholly outside perspective which we had never had before internally of course. It’s been a pleasure getting that perspective and working with it. We couldn’t have done what we have with MELODRAMA without him.’

Your journey from Somewhere in a World, Not of the Dream through Wonderland to MELODRAMA feels like a steady escalation in conviction. Looking back, what do you think you’ve shed or outgrown as a band to get here?

‘What we’ve shed is worrying about what will sell, or what songs will be the most popular. We have just pushed forward the tunes that we like and have made an album with which none of us can agree on a best song. It’s a smorgasbord of bangers that we love, and all we can hope is that our fans love them too.’

Merry, your vocal contribution to Sonic Frontiers reached a global audience far beyond the alternative scene. Did that experience influence how you approached writing and performing on this record?

‘The short answer is no. The longer answer is that writing to a criteria set for you, is a LOT easier than coming up with the concept by yourself. So writing for the album was a complete ordeal compared to writing for the Frontiers theme song.’

With triple j support, festival appearances, and now over a million Spotify streams, you’re steadily carving out a national and international footprint. Do you feel the momentum building differently around MELODRAMA compared to past releases?

‘Yes, it has been such an unexpectedly successful release so far. Only unexpected in the way that the releases have done far better than we ever could have hoped. We are so incredibly grateful to our fans and all new listeners for consuming To Octavia this way.’

The title MELODRAMA suggests heightened emotion, tension, and maybe even theatre. What does that word mean to To Octavia, and how does it tie the whole record together?

‘The record is a series of stories all filled with heightened emotions, drama, conflict, and resolution. Therefore, “MELODRAMA” perfectly encapsulates the energy of the album from start to finish.’

INSTAGRAM

Your new single ‘Don’t Let Me Put A Track On You’ is fiercely defiant and sonically bold. What was the spark that led to writing this particular track in the south of France?

Musically, I kept vibing with sea, the beach, and walking along the Croissette in Cannes. It has this energy and pulse to it, it’s contagious. Lyrically, a family member was going through a tough time and catching a lot of heat for it. It started to spill on to me because I was supporting her… my response… “Don’t Let Me Put A Track On You” – they don’t want none of this.

You’ve performed in some remarkable locations — Château Les Alouettes, Villa Balbiano, and even the Paris premiere of Azur. How do these unique settings influence your creative process and live performance style?

Travel and diversity is so much to what I do. I like to explore, to push boundaries and be vulnerable in these unique atmospheres, it adds to the growth process. There is so much to learn, the more I learn the more I realize how much I don’t know.

Your music blends hip hop with cinematic sound design, funk, rock, and film score elements. How do you decide which influences to weave into a track without losing your signature sound?

I walk into the studio with ideas loaded and start creating. Instinct first, guardrails second. The beat leads; I layer textures. If it drops the energy, it’s gone. I set a tempo and let it carry me wherever it wants. Maybe that sounds crazy—I just go. Everything I’ve lived and everything I’m feeling rushes in, a haze that snaps into focus when the groove hits.

You mentioned there’s a “Caribbean pulse” beneath this track. Can you walk us through the production choices and instrumentation that brought that vibe to life?

The Caribbean pulse lives in the low end. I built it on a reggae-leaning bassline that gives the whole track that swaying feel. When the back half of Verse 1 hits, I open the arrangement—steel-drum colors and percussion kick up the dust. That’s straight Bahamian Junkanoo energy: parade vibes, celebration, movement, color. It’s party and pursuit at the same time—the groove invites you in, the chaos keeps you on your toes.

Storytelling is a key part of your work. When you sit down to write, do you think in terms of lyrics first, visuals, or soundscapes?

I start with sound. The tone and personality of the beat set the mood, the pace, and the point of view. I see pictures first—scenes, camera moves, colors—and then I write the lines that fit that frame. The lyrics chase the groove. If the beat feels like a party, I aim for movement; if it carries edge or weight, I sharpen the language and tighten the cadence. This track blends lanes—party energy, raw aggression, and real heart—so the story flips between celebration and pursuit without losing the signature voice.

Being completely self-written, self-produced, and self-performed is no small feat. How does that independence shape the authenticity of your music?

Thank you. That answer is pretty simple: I do what I want—and I own it. I write it, produce it, perform it, so the record never loses its face. No filters, no detours, just a straight line from my gut to the speakers.

Detroit’s underground scene clearly shaped you. How does your hometown continue to inspire your art, even while living in Cannes?

Michigan-made, Detroit-wired. The hustle and resilience from home run through everything I make. Midwest grit with Riviera glam — that’s the mix, every record.

The single features a calmer bridge with female vocals before exploding back into intensity. How did you approach that dynamic shift and the collaboration process for that section?

I had to let the song breathe. I’d written that section for another record and shelved it, but I was still in love with it. The way I catalog ideas, I knew right where to pull it from—and it fit perfectly here. The female vocal brings a calmer texture, but it’s the same message, same pulse. We give her space to carry it, then slam back in so the final hit feels earned.

Your music feels like it belongs in films and luxury campaigns. Do you see yourself expanding further into film scoring or fashion collaborations?

Absolutely. I don’t really “branch out” so much as integrate—sound, style, and cinema on one frequency. I’m already developing a feature where the music is the spine: a sexy, seductive love triangle told through shifting POVs, with the score driving the tension from first glance to fallout. I’m already in talks with filmmakers in New York, France and Prague. In fashion, I’m stepping in deeper: a capsule collection and an on-stage runway-meets-performance in Mumbai in March 2026 tied to a brand collaboration, where I handle the soundtrack and creative direction so the visuals and the music hit as one. That’s the lane—films you can feel, campaigns you can hear.

With nearly 2 million streams already, what’s next for you? Can fans expect an EP or full-length project following this single?

I don’t plan on slowing down. “Stick Figaro” lands Oct 10, then “YOLO 2 Yoga” drops in early November. In December, the full n=40 EP arrives—eight tracks with eight cinematic videos, one for each record. I’ll be performing across Europe this winter, then bringing a runway-meets-performance to Mumbai in March 2026 tied to my capsule collab. In Spring 2026 I drop L’Americain—a world of its own—with a live moment around the Cannes Film Festival in May, and I’m shooting videos for it across Europe, L.A., India, and the Caribbean. In parallel, I’m finishing a feature scored with 20+ originals—a seductive love triangle told in sound and light. EP now, album next, and a whole ecosystem to go with it.

Follow Jairic:

Website – Instagram – Soundcloud – Youtube – Spotify

Clear As Mud Pt. 1 feels like a really personal and transformative project — what was the headspace you were in while writing these songs? 

It has felt like that for sure. These songs initially came from a place of picking myself back up and when it came down to it, it was up to me to make what I want to happen, happen. The headspace I was in started as coming out of the pandemic with no team and a lot of uncertainty about the industry and was about not giving up. It felt like I could either throw in the towel or take stock of where I’ve come from, what I’ve done and have the chance to really do it how I want to. Experience in the music industry has helped me know what I want to do and what I don’t align with. I started out on my own with gaul and belief, things got weird, burnt out and clouded but now I have the chance to take my power back. It was a kind of nothing to lose moment and songs just started coming out. Then writing songs on top of the songs I already had with Alex Burnett, was when the real empowerment started to come out, really embracing myself and coming back to my most unapologetic self but with even more reason to be other than just being young and naive.

The EP dives into themes of identity, queerness, and rural womanhood — were there particular moments or experiences that shaped those stories? 

There are three main things I think that shaped this; coming to terms with being queer and actually allowing myself to experience that, working through emotions of leaving it until I was nearly 30 to address that in myself, what that means as a girl who grew up in a rural area and alongside all of that, navigating self esteem, neurodivergence and how denying myself a part of my identity was a big thing that was holding me back in really accepting myself fully and therefore being able to express that. I think there is a strength in being a woman from a rural area and a determination to make something more for yourself. But that has also meant a realisation that I didn’t allow myself to fully be and needed experiences like I’ve had living in a city where queerness is celebrated and nurtured more than where I’m from.

You’ve said playing live is where it all makes sense — what do you want audiences to feel when they hear these songs in an intimate venue? 

It’s where it connects, straight from me to people who care about these songs. It shows me right in my face that this doesn’t have much to do with me and the songs belong to the people who have connected their own feelings and related their own lives to them. It means the world to see first hand that these songs give back and mean something to someone else! That’s what I get out of it. But I want them to feel better about something that was bringing them down, lifted up, or feel like I encapsulated their hurt, feel understood, relate, feel like they can take on the world and stand up for what they believe in. Feel alive.

The record was produced with Alex Burnett and Oli Horton — how did that collaboration influence the sound and direction of the EP? 

The production style of both of these great humans comes with a whole lot of passion and attention to detail. Working with them has made for really thought out production where everything has a reason and a purpose whilst not being over done or over complicated. There is a simplicity to the production of this EP because of that. The Bruny Island Tasmanian roots became a big part of the story and the sound too, an example of that being like a backing vocal that sounds like howling wind or an edgy guitar part that makes you feel like you’re bracing for the cold. It was also all about the feeling and bringing the main goal back to how it makes you feel.

Tasmania clearly grounds a lot of your artistry. How does being from Lutruwita/Tasmania shape the way you tell your stories? 

It will forever be ingrained in me being from the island off the island off the island and through a slow journey I’ve really come back to being passionate about telling that part of the story through the music again. In a really honest way, Lutruwita and being from there comes with a lot of contrast. I think the contradictions are a part of being Tasmanian. It’s beautiful but isolated, feeling like I belong but the land does not belong to us, a sense of light with a dark past and heavy energy that is always there, connection and longing for understanding, quiet, leaving you with only your thoughts whilst being raw and unforgiving, forcing you to face it. These are all themes of these songs. It’s the honest, winter, cold, windy version of Lunawanna alonna, that no matter how harsh she is, is still full of beauty. In a raw, unapologetic way.

This is the first of a two-part project — how does Pt 1 set the stage for what’s to come in Pt 2? 

Putting Pt 1 out first has allowed this project to lay the foundation of all these themes. I love how the songs we ended up putting on Pt 1 all have a moment and are all kind of different from each other but together form the journey of those themes, this is the start and first part of going through hurt, embracing the mud, pulling yourself out of the mud and accepting yourself whilst accepting you’ll never have it all worked out. Pt 2 will expand on these themes with even more self assurance and awareness and really kind of lean in to addressing hurt and embracing the lesson because I no longer fear it. If Pt 1 was the foundation, Pt 2 is where it all really makes sense, without having all the answers. So you can just let go and laugh at life in the end. Because THAT is clear as mud!

You’ve built a reputation for grit and honesty in your songwriting. Do you ever feel pressure to hold back, or is rawness something you fully lean into? 

I normally don’t have trouble being honest. I’ve always been an open book. Sometimes that has gotten me in weird situations being so open in my personal life, so it has probably made me think about it. But when it comes to songs, I’ve found the more honest the better. I’ve always gotten something out of feeling like the person that will say the thing you’re thinking but won’t say or don’t know how to put it into words.

Each of the venues on this run — The Tote, Altar, Waywards — has its own kind of cult status. Was it important to you to choose those kinds of intimate, character-filled rooms? 

For sure. I wanted it to be intimate but feel like a great venue that you want to be in so we can do a proper sweaty show full of vibes whilst still feeling intimate and special.

You’ve spoken about reclaiming identity and place in this chapter — does it feel like a new beginning for you as an artist? 

It definitely does. It was important to not just keep doing the same thing over and over but grow and learn. It’s also just true to where I’m at and what has happened since I started out. This is a new kind of direction but at the same time it’s more driven, focused and more true to me than ever.

When people walk out of these shows, what’s the one thing you hope they carry with them from the experience? 

As corny as it is, hope. Hope that can help them take on the world, feel understood, heard and powerful. And if they carry merch out that would be great too. Haha!

INSTAGRAM

“Blossom” feels both deeply personal and sonically expansive – can you talk us through what inspired the song and how it came together?

‘Blossom’ was born out of frustration and feeling disenfranchised or disconnected with the music industry. Liam sent me a short clip of the riff at the start and I immediately felt like I was ready to write a chorus. I got him to send over everything he’d done and I looped the riff and wrote the chorus on the spot. I felt like I’d been betrayed by the industry and I’d suddenly had the rug pulled out from underneath and finally seen it for exactly what it is.

You describe “Blossom” as a reflection on creative burnout and rediscovery – what helped you push through that phase and reconnect with your passion for making music?

To be honest, the thing that helped me personally push through it was redefining my role within the band. For the last album, Marcus wrote most of the music and I’d contribute here and there with leads and basslines, but for this one, Liam wrote 90% of it and I was able to accept that my strength this time around was in my role as as lyricist and vocalist and my strength laid in writing melodies and bringing the songs to life. In short, my best friends in Liam and Marcus helped me push through the burnout with their creative desires.

How did working with Callan Orr influence the final sound of “Blossom”? What did he bring to the table as a producer?

Working with Cal is absolutely incredible and we feel like we’ve made a new best friend or an unofficial member of the band. On ‘Blossom’ in particular, we sat there for probably 2 hours, just trying to rewrite a lead guitar for the chorus because none of us were happy with the one we had. Between the four of us, we bounced back and eventually landed on one I was writing and from there, Cal shaped it into the lead you hear in the track now. Cal is also a wizard at synths and building songs out to sound as gigantic as they do!

There’s a real dance-tinged energy to “Blossom” that still sits in your darker, alt-rock world – was that a conscious direction or something that came out naturally in the studio?

Definitely conscious! Liam set out to write some faster songs for this record and I guess this is the result of trying to do that within the constraints of what your band actually sounds like. We aren’t the heaviest band in the world, but we also don’t shy away from heavy songs, so I guess this is what happens when you put all of those things together and you get a poppy, dancy, heavy track with a lot of emotion!

You’ve just wrapped up a national tour with Chasing Ghosts – what were some standout moments or cities from that run?

Brisbane! Usually Melbourne is the highlight, if not just for the delicious vegan food we get to eat on the off days, but this time Brisbane shone through all of them. Maybe it was the fact that we weren’t expecting much from a Brisbane show, or the fact that by the time we got to the end of the tour, we loved the guys in Chasing Ghosts so much and had learnt so much from them that we were just ultra confident in what we could do to put on a good show. Either way, it wrapped up the tour perfectly and it was so nice to do that in our home town.

How did it feel debuting “Down” and “Blossom” live on tour? Did any particular crowd reactions surprise you?

It’s always interesting playing unreleased songs on tour, but ‘Blossom’ was definitely a personal highlight for me. It’s such a fun song to play and it just has an energy about it that really brings something to the set. ‘Down’ was also so much fun to play and it was very rewarding to hear people singing it back in a few of the cities.

You’re set to play Converge Festival in both Melbourne and Brisbane this September – what are you most looking forward to about the festival?

Our look for Converge Festival is changing slightly. For the first time ever, I’m not going to be playing bass. I’ll just be playing the role of front man! I’m super excited and it has so many unique challenges that I’m pumped to tackle. We’ve been rehearsing this last week and there’s been a few changes to our set that I feel really are going to make a big impact live. I’m really really excited!

With over 7.3 million streams and international recognition, how has your relationship with your audience evolved over the years?

Our relationship with our audience has always been a little bit strange! In the best way possible, I should add. Over the years, we have had fans fly across different cities to see us and even from the United States. Our fans are spread out all over the world, and while that makes it hard to have a base of fans that we can play to regularly, we have many many fans that we are so lucky to call good friends now. We ourselves are quite shy and introverted people, and that often seems to draw more shy and introverted people out as our fans. I love that. I love that we are giving people like us a space to feel seen, heard and loved.

You’ve shared the stage with huge acts like Thrice, Saosin, and Circa Survive – how have those experiences shaped your own performances or ambitions?

Sharing the stage with those three bands in particular have been the highlights of being in a band for me. They’re all bands that I wouldn’t be playing music without them. Meeting Anthony Green back stage more than once and have him watch my band and bang his head along is a memory I will never forget. I’m not sure how those experiences have shaped my ambitions as such, but they’ve certainly made all of the sacrafice worth it.

“Blossom” touches on letting go of expectations and creating from a place of love – what does success look like to you now, compared to when you first started The Comfort?

Great question! Success to me is being able to do these things I love with the people that I love. I’m so privileged to be able to make music with my best friends 12 years on and still have thousands of people listen to it and care. Even though The Comfort might not be as successful as they were 8/9 years ago, the fact that we still get to do this thing and tour the country a couple of times a year is kind of mind blowing. I think when we first started The Comfort, like any young kids we were so ambitious that all of the wins got taken for granted to some extent. Over time, I think I’ve learned to stop expecting things to happen, and just to appreciate every little thing that does all the more.

TICKETS

“Daisy” dives into the chaos of a love triangle at work — how did that real-life experience inspire the storytelling behind the track? 

I won’t name any names but basically I had a friend at work who had another friend and they both fancied a hot workmate. Let’s call her Daisy since her real name rhymes with Daisy, anyways Daisy basically ended up with one of them. The one that didn’t end up with Daisy was a little upset at first but later on realised that he dodged a bullet!

You’ve described the song as “Jessie’s Girl’s pop punk cousin.” What elements were essential in achieving that nostalgic-yet-modern sound?

We like to think that ‘Daisy’ is the new and improved pop punk version of ‘Jessie’s Girl’ and you can agree with us or not! I guess we just wanted to write another feel good and catchy follow up single similar to our last single ‘New Year’s Eve’ and I like to think that we’ve achieved that with ‘Daisy’. We also wanted to catch our listeners a little off guard with a reggae bridge section which worked really well with the song, I like to think anyways.

How did your band dynamics influence the songwriting and arrangement process for “Daisy”? Was it a collaborative effort or more individually driven?

I myself mostly wrote the song, it was only at the second verse where lyrically I needed help. James sings the second verse but we all contributed with writing it. Our producers Ash and Evan from the Loud Noise Estate also played a huge part in the arrangement process. They thought that the song was too long, it was originally 5 minutes long so they cut it back to 4 and a half minutes.

Melbourne’s music scene is thriving — how has relocating from Darwin shaped your identity as a band and influenced your recent work?

I guess in Darwin I used to do almost everything myself. Moving to Melbourne though, we’re still mostly independent but we’re also exposed to many other services in the music industry that we didn’t have access to back in Darwin. I don’t have to outsource everything online or do things myself anymore. I think with everything in such close proximity we can now do a lot more and better as opposed to originally being located in Darwin.

There’s a cheeky but emotionally charged energy in “Daisy.” How do you strike that balance between playful storytelling and genuine vulnerability?

We don’t overthink it too much I guess. I mean we are inspired by bands such as Blink-182 and their lightheartedness so I guess there’s that.

You’ve supported legends like Eskimo Joe and Frenzal Rhomb. What have those experiences taught you about your live sound and performance style?

Well I guess Eskimo Joe and Frenzal Rhomb are bands that don’t use any backing tracks or click tracks. Just pure live music, and that’s always what we try to achieve in our live shows.

How does “Daisy” reflect your evolution since your debut album Pull Yourself Together? What’s changed most in your creative process?

Funny you say that because I think ‘Daisy’ sounds like it came from ‘Pull Yourself Together’! What’s changed most in our creative process is now that we have band members who are a little more open minded and more collaborative when it comes to song writing. ‘Pull Yourself Together’ was all written and produced by myself. We have also started working with professional music producers and it makes a huge difference. Ash and Evan from the Loud Noise Estate produced our last single ‘New Year’s Eve’ and we loved how it sounded so we went back with them again to record a few more songs.

With clear influences from Blink-182 and All Time Low, what sets Danger Den apart in today’s pop punk landscape?

Well the short answer to that is that Danger Den is basically Blink-182 with 3 guitarists and sick guitar solos! That’s kind of an inside joke we have in the band. With Danger Den I guess you could say that we’re one of the very few pop punk bands left that still don’t use backing tracks and click tracks live! But jokes aside, I guess we’re very much classic rock inspired and just write whatever we like regardless of the genre. We don’t worry too much if it’s “pop punk” or not. If we like the song we wrote we’re gonna play the song we wrote. I guess at the end of the day we’re just 5 guys that wanna make music together.

The track is undeniably catchy — how do you approach writing hooks that resonate both lyrically and melodically?

I guess I just write everything that comes to mind really. All I remember in the song writing process is that Daisy rhymes with baby and I thought that that sounded catchy so I quickly wrote that in my notes app. And then the rest followed.

Looking ahead, can fans expect more singles in this storytelling style, or are you exploring new themes and sonic directions?

Well for our next single it’s gonna be a little faster and heavier sounding. We’ve always been very experimental given that we’ve all come from different musical backgrounds. For our next single in particular, James wrote the whole song so it’s a given that it’ll sound very different to what we’ve done previously. So stay tuned for that!

UPCOMING SHOWS

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with special guests Sanny Veloo + Danger Den + Spill Kit –

The Leadbeater Hotel (Richmond, VIC) Friday, 12 September 2025 8:00 pm

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‘My Way’ feels like a defiant anthem—raw, confident, and rebellious. Can you talk us through the message behind the track and what inspired its lyrics?

Yes, it’s definitely all of those things for us too. Different people will take different things from it, but one of the messages in this song is about not feeling the need to do what everyone else is doing and not being afraid to be yourself. This may sound weird but we were actually inspired a by all of the rock n roll stories that you hear about that have gone wrong. A lot of people tell us “don’t do this, don’t do that”. “Don’t fall into the same trap as X”. This song is a bit of a reassurance to us that if we stay true to ourselves, work hard, and chase our dreams, it will all be fine in the end. 

At just 13–15 years old, your sound is already incredibly tight and full of attitude. How do you balance school, music, and everything in between?

Our parents help us stay on the straight and narrow. Ha ha. But seriously, our folks did tell us that if our school grades suffer too much, all bets are off, so we do our best to keep up with our school work, and our teachers are very supportive.

We also practice a hell of a lot together as a band and as individuals on our instruments and vocals, so that keeps us tight musically. 

And we know that if we forget about everything else, we’re not going to feel balanced, so we spend the rest of our time getting outdoors and doing other stuff that we love like soccer, surfing and skating. This seems to work, but we’re not going to lie, we are very busy!

You’ve worked with some seriously seasoned producers like Steve James and had your track mastered by Leon Zervos. What was it like being in the studio with names who’ve worked with Aussie rock royalty?

At first, we were a bit nervous, and we were trying to impress them, but now we’re just ourselves and we’ve formed a really close friendship with the team that we work with. We’re so grateful that we get to work with such awesome professionals.

There’s a strong DIY energy and surf-rock psychedelia vibe in your music. Who are your biggest musical influences, and how do they shape your sound?

Pretty much every Aussie rock n roll legend from the last 40 years has influenced us in one way or another. But some bands that come to mind are Silverchair, Grinspoon, Spiderbait, The Screaming Jets, The Chats, Teen Jesus and the Jean Teasers. And then overseas, there’s Greenday, The Offspring, and Tool, to name a few.

From local RSL gigs to major festivals like Bluesfest and support slots with The Screaming Jets and The Superjesus—you’ve had a wild ride so far. What’s been the most surreal moment of your journey?

Being invited up on a main stage by Spiderbait in front of 10,000 people and playing with them at the age of 10 – 12 years old has been the most surreal experience so far. It was a life changing moment for us. It encouraged us, and everyone around us, to really believe in our band, and to take things to the next level.

You’ve mentioned facing “artificial barriers” in the industry because of your age. What kinds of challenges have you had to push through, and how have they shaped your identity as a band?

When we first started, we were too loud and energetic for cafes and restaurants, and a lot of pubs and clubs wouldn’t allow us to perform because we were too young. Then there were festivals that didn’t want to take a risk on us because they perceived that we wouldn’t be any good due to our age. We don’t think that good music has an age limit and we’ve been determined to chip away at some of these artificial barriers and incorrect perceptions. Slowly but surely, more and more doors have been opening once people hear us and see what we’re capable of.

The upcoming ‘My Way’ launch at Solbar sounds like a huge all-ages party. What can fans expect from the show—and what’s your goal when you step on stage?

(Suggested replacement question: Tell us about your all ages ‘My Way’ launch party at the Solbar. What was your goal when you stepped on stage and how did you think it went).

Our aim was to throw a sick party celebrating our single launch and live music in general, that everyone was welcome at, and could be themselves at, regardless of their age. We had little kids from the age of 5 all the way up to bigger kids at 65 having an absolute ball. At one point there was a massive circle pit in the middle of the crowd, and we really fed off everyone’s energy and excitement. We’re so grateful for the support we have, and we can’t wait to throw another single launch party again soon!

You’ve already collaborated with Sarah McLeod, played to 10,000 people, and released multiple singles. What’s next creatively for Wave Raiders—more singles, an EP, or even a full album?

We have another single coming out later this year, and we’re currently working on some new tunes in the studio with Steve James and Pete Robinson from Electric Mary. We’re aiming to release an EP by the end of this year, and hopefully an album by the end of next year. 

Your live shows are becoming known for being explosive and unpredictable. How do you prepare for gigs, and how important is performance to your band’s identity?

One thing that we learnt early on is that it’s not just about the music, it’s about the show. We want to be known for going all out on stage and we want people to be excited to see what we’re going to do next. We spend a lot of time off stage working on our stage presence, and a lot of effort on stage trialling new things. We’re always mixing it up. No two gigs are ever the same.

You formed the band at ages 10–12, and now you’re on the radar of some of the country’s biggest acts. Looking back at that Caloundra Music Festival moment with Spiderbait—how did it feel to crash the stage and totally own it?

It was pretty funny when we first got on stage with Spiderbait. Janet asked us side stage whether we could actually play ‘Calypso’. Pete was playing Wit’s guitar and the strap felt like it was down to his ankles. Jayden was shorter than Janet’s bass amp. And Tom couldn’t reach the drum peddles from Kram’s seat, without half standing up. We’d practiced ‘Calypso’ earlier that day in our bedroom around 10 times and we only got it right once. To actually be called up on stage by Spiderbait and to nail it in front of all those people at such a young age was like nothing we’ve ever felt before. It really was one of those moments that makes live music and the magic that happens when people get together, so special.

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“Happy Mealz” feels like both a critique and a confession. What moment or feeling sparked the creation of this song? Was there a personal catalyst for its dystopian mood?

The idea behind the song came from seeing people act happy, but their eyes told a completely different story – like joy was just a mask. They laugh but there’s no warmth, kiss yet remain cold, smile but carry hate. Grins serve as both shields and swords. It is frustrating how disposable everything is, it’s easier to throw away than to fix. Performative ecstasy fascinates me, especially in how fake it feels – like plastic. Sometimes the world feels like a parody of itself, endlessly repeating the same mistakes, things are becoming so absurd, it is funny, but then you catch yourself and realize it’s not really funny at all – it’s horrifying. Everything’s “fine,” but all is actually falling apart at the seams. “Happy Mealz” is part scream into the void, part self-reckoning – I describe it as the synth-punk requiem for the emotionally extinct. Honestly, sometimes I feel we already live in a dystopia.

There’s biting irony in lines like “Oh happy bastards with their happy meals.” How do you balance satire and sincerity in your songwriting without tipping too far into cynicism?

I think irony and dark humor are essential tools for navigating the absurdity of the world. But at the same time, they allow me to hold up a mirror to society and say, “Look at this.” The sarcasm is just my way of pointing out how ridiculous everything is, but there’s always a deeper sincerity there, a truth that I’m trying to uncover. I’m not just mocking the world, I’m dissecting it – underneath that satire, there’s a genuine frustration, a desire for something real. I don’t want my music to be swallowed by cynicism because that’s when you become hopeless. So, while I might be laughing at the absurdity, I’m also asking, “Why is this the reality we live in?” There’s always a vulnerability beneath it. That’s where the balance comes from – acknowledging the pain without giving in to it completely.

You write, produce, and perform everything yourself—what does that level of control mean to you as an artist, especially in an era of heavy collaboration and digital interference?

I have a strong artistic vision that isn’t meant to be filtered or “smoothed out” by others. I’m a firm believer in auteur theory – true art comes from full creative control. The way I write, produce, and perform is all tied to how I see myself and how I want to be heard.  I am capturing a snapshot of a moment inside me that no one else can truly understand or interpret in the way I see it. When I create music, it clicks inside me when it’s ready. I don’t need outside approval to validate that.

Your upcoming album CYBERWOLF dives deep into identity collapse and artificiality. Do you see yourself as documenting this era or actively rebelling against it—or both?

It’s both. CYBERWOLF is my way of documenting what’s happening around us, but it’s also an act of rebellion against it. Our world is increasingly morphing into a hyper-digital version of reality, where people pour all their energy into curating their perfect online lives, believing that love and validation come from a screen, while, in the process, they’re losing touch with the raw connections that truly define what it means to be human. CYBERWOLF is a mirror for our society built on superficiality and false values where people “like” everyone but love no one, not even themselves. So, the album serves as both a snapshot of that decay and an attempt to wake people up before we lose ourselves completely. It’s a reminder that behind the shiny, artificial images is something real – I want to remind people there’s still a self behind the selfie, a soul behind the screen – something raw and unfiltered, refusing to be erased by the endless ones and zeroes. The CYBERWOLF is a howl against the digital wilderness, a way of reclaiming our fractured identities before they’re swallowed whole by the algorithm. It’s both an observation and a challenge.

As a classically trained pianist and film composer, how do your cinematic instincts shape the atmosphere and emotional landscapes of your songs?

Cinema has provided me with the greatest opportunity to experiment with narrative form, including scriptwriting and film editing. Writing lyrics for me is like writing a mini-movie. Classical music on the other hand gave me a rich vocabulary for composing. Once you truly understand Beethoven, Bach, Chopin, you can do anything, in any genre. My cinematic background teaches me that every note should serve a story. When composing standalone songs, I immerse myself in their atmosphere, feeling like I’m discovering and documenting new emotional landscapes. It’s always about finding raw, honest truth through sound. Every song I write first starts as a fragment of a lyric which must give me strong emotional and visual associations that then kick-starts my musical imagination. Every instrument added is like a new color in the work. Each song should feel like its own unique microcosm.

You’ve cited influences like Siouxsie and the Banshees, Sonic Youth, and Hole. What emotional or creative thread connects you to these artists, and how do you think your work pushes that legacy forward?

I’m in awe of their unvarnished beauty. Sure, technically perfect voices have their place, but I can’t imagine anyone performing those songs better than they did all their grit. Technical perfection without energy or soul is pointless. I’ve always been drawn to women who shatter the mold of what’s “acceptable” for female performers – I’m interested in rage, vulnerability, despair – the full spectrum of feeling that isn’t polished or polite or merely catering to the male gaze. That’s the thread I carry forward: the refusal to be nice, the insistence on being real. I even thought before about producing other vocalists, but then I realized my material is too personal for others to understand it well enough to perform, so for now I will concentrate on writing music for myself.

“Follow and obey, smile and comply” — your manifesto is unapologetically defiant. Have you faced resistance or misunderstanding from the industry because of your bold vision?

Of course. I don’t fit neatly into any box – and I never wanted to. If someone doesn’t like me or what I do, that’s perfectly fine. I like experimenting. I like discomfort – that’s where creativity blossoms. An artist who sticks to doing the same thing all over again stops being an artist. On my current album, I’m exploring a mix of electronic, darkwave, rock, experimental, rap – pushing boundaries, and I’ll continue to evolve and experiment in the future. I’ve never aspired to be digestible or easily branded. I don’t belong to any industry – I’ve always thrived on the outside. That’s where artistic freedom is. The system wasn’t built for people like me, so I am building my own.

There’s a strong visual and narrative component to your work. If “Happy Mealz” were a scene in one of your films, what would it look and feel like?

It would be set in an office cafeteria sometime in the future – people moving like programmed machines, blank expressions, frozen smiles. The food on their plastic trays glistens under harsh lights, gooey and pulsating. Screens flicker overhead, chanting “smile and comply” on loop. Suddenly, a grinning man carrying a tray collapses, unconscious. No one reacts, people just move around him. I wonder what the food was made of. That’s the world of Happy Mealz – mechanized happiness and castrated emotion.

You’ve spoken about not making lullabies “for the sedated.” What do you hope your music awakens in people who might feel numb or disillusioned today?

I want to wake up the part of them that still feels – the part that hasn’t been deadened yet. If one beat or lyric makes someone pause and question the script they’ve been following, then the song has done its job. My music isn’t meant to play in the background – it’s a jolt, a punch in the gut. It’s a reminder that you’re still alive.

As someone creating across genres and mediums—film, music, composition—do you think today’s world still values authenticity, or is that part of what you feel has been lost?

Authenticity is risky. It doesn’t always trend. It’s not designed to please everyone. That’s why so much of today’s mainstream art feels sanitized – manufactured by committees chasing metrics, not meaning. Realness lives on the fringes now, and you only find it if you know where to look. It’s not backed by corporations – because authenticity makes people think, and that’s dangerous.
MTV in the ‘80s was a beautiful accident – an indie network accidentally showcasing strange, powerful, British music videos. There were raw messages, wild experiments. Then the system “fixed” the mistake – America took over, and the strangeness was replaced by market-tested brain-numbing sameness. Now, with AI easily replicating the formula, that artificiality stands out even more. Hopefully, it will raise the bar for the music industry, because the more everything becomes predictable, the hungrier we get for something real. We don’t need more simulations. We need something human again. We need artists who aren’t afraid to push boundaries and exist outside the machine.

I want people to wake up and question the world they’re living in. I want them to look past the shiny exterior of social media, the plastic smiles, and the curated perfection. We’re all running on autopilot, just existing. My music is a wake-up call to shake people out of that numbness. There’s still something real inside us, we’ve just forgotten how to connect with it. So, if there’s one thing I want listeners to take away, it’s that: there’s more than what’s on the screen. There’s still something worth fighting for, something worth feeling.

HAPPY MEALZ is available on Bandcamp and YouTube, with other platforms coming soon.

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“SNAP” is a release of rage. How do you navigate the balance between speaking to global injustice and channeling your own experiences without one overshadowing the other?

I came to these lyrics through empathy. When I see people suffering through global atrocities, I think – that could happen to any of us. I’ve fallen into other people’s narratives or traps in my own life, so I relate deeply to that vulnerability in others. Every line of SNAP had to speak to both the intimate betrayals that have shaped me and the collective injustices I’ve witnessed. I wanted to humanise those experiences as much as I could.

You’ve mentioned the line “It starts slow, I never even felt it…” came from real moments of being pushed too far. Was there a specific personal experience that crystallised the emotional turning point of the song?

In danger, I don’t go straight to fight or flight. I freeze, fawn, or dissociate, and then it flips into a burst of fight. Even outside of danger, I’ll stay patient until the last straw, and then I erupt. When I wrote SNAP, I was coming out of a period where I’d been burned over and over. I’d been hit financially, forced to work myself into exhaustion, and it wrecked my health. Eventually I thought “this is bullshit!”. I needed to make changes. Rage can be healthy when it’s protective and that’s the energy at the core of this track.

This track marks your first time incorporating screamed vocals. What led you to that creative choice and was it more about emotional necessity, or musical evolution?

The song demanded it. I’ve wanted to scream on a track for years, but SNAP was what finally brought it out of me. I love that raw, unhinged kind of scream that sounds like you’re losing it. The challenge was finding a way to do it without wrecking my vocals. This is the first time I’ve truly encapsulated my rage in a song, and that makes it feel special.

The world you wrote “SNAP” in feels increasingly hostile to dissent, especially for femme and queer voices. Did you ever second guess being so raw or political in this song, or did the urgency demand full honesty?

While there has been real progress for women and queer people, we’ve also seen fascist thinking creep back into the West. The studio is my safe space, and once the music takes over, I don’t second guess what comes from my soul. Art is my God, and if my honesty is political, so be it.

There’s a juxtaposition in the song between control and chaos, was that something you and producer Chris Lalic worked toward consciously in the studio?

Excuse has been experimenting with light and shade for a while, so with SNAP the contrasting ideas came together naturally. The verses are sweet, but then the choruses let loose, and the outro has the energy of a full-on bar fight. Chris leaned into that tension-and-release energy immaculately, and we’re so thankful to him for it.

Excuse For An Exit have always created a space for outsiders, but this track feels like a call to arms. What kind of community are you hoping “SNAP” helps galvanise or strengthen?

There’s a real tenderness within Excuse and among our fans, and that’s something worth protecting. I hope SNAP strengthens that bond and gives people permission to stand their ground. I’m proud of what we bring to the Australian heavy music scene, and I want our community to feel a part of that.

Pop, punk, emo, electronic — your sound refuses to sit in a single box. Do you see genre as something political in itself, especially as a band pushing against mainstream expectations of how rage should sound?

We honestly can’t stop ourselves from experimenting. All art is political, so if our genre-skipping and bending feels liberating for others, I’m glad. It means a lot to bring an unrepresented voice of anger to the front, because so many feel this way and deserve to be heard.

You’ve said this track isn’t ‘overtly political,’ but the emotion is inseparable from activism. Do you think the music industry still struggles to take emotional expression seriously? Especially when it comes from women or femme artists?

Much of the music industry values sex, money and power over vulnerability and truth, and that’s where femininity and emotional expression get pushed aside. But there’s a huge community of people who crave unique honesty, raw emotion, and new ideas. That’s where I put my energy.

The response from your fans, especially around “ur villain” and your live shows, has been deeply supportive. Have you performed “SNAP” live yet? If so, what’s it like performing “SNAP” in front of people who see themselves in your anger?

We’ve only played it live once, at 2 Pizza 2 Planet Fest. I was nervous as hell! I was sick, it was the end of the set, and I didn’t know if I’d make it through. But when my voice started to crack, all I could hear was the fans at the front screaming with me. So I screamed right back. It turned into this unhinged, beautiful, chaotic moment, and I loved every second of it.

You’ve played grassroots festivals, raised money for Lifeline, and headlined sold-out shows — all while evolving sonically. What’s grounding you right now as you move into this next, more aggressive chapter?

My sister, my girlfriend, and my friends have always had my back, but getting stable again, with housing and finances, has been massive!  Aggression in this chapter isn’t chaos for me. It’s focus. It’s me drawing a line and protecting what matters.

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“Just Groove” kicks off with this raw defiance — like you’re dancing through burnout. What was going through your mind when you first wrote it?

I was thinking about how you can be exhausted but still refuse to stop moving. “Grooving” here isn’t just dancing — it’s survival. It’s saying, I might be running on fumes, but I’m still going to find the beat and make it mine. That raw defiance came from wanting to turn fatigue into fuel, to move through burnout with rhythm instead of collapse.

You’ve said this track came from exhaustion. Was there a specific moment or breaking point that made you say, “Screw this, I’m going to make music”?

Yes — a night where I’d been stuck between political deadlines and corporate calls, both sides draining me. I realised I’d spent years helping others tell their stories — governments, brands — and almost none telling my own. That night, instead of another report, I wrote the first groove. It was messy, imperfect, but it was mine.

The song blends pop, rock, electro, and gospel — it’s not an obvious mix, but it works. How do you approach fusing such different sounds without losing the groove?

I treat music like a passport. Brazilian maracatu percussion for the heartbeat, the raw edge of deep house for grit, the brightness of pop to pull people in, and the call-and-response power of Afro-gospel for uplift. Each has its own history and weight. I just make sure the groove is the glue — so no matter where the sound comes from, it’s all part of the same journey.

Your album Think Pink dives into themes like feminism, softness, and emotional survival — especially for men. That’s not something you hear often in pop or electro. What made you want to go there?

Because softness is political. In a world where men are still taught to armour up, being vulnerable is radical. I’ve worked in politics — I’ve seen how systems reward dominance and punish empathy. In Think Pink, feminism isn’t just about women’s liberation, it’s about freeing men from those cages too. It’s softness as survival.

You describe the album as a continuation of your sci-fi saga, The Cosmic Mirror Theory. Can you tell us a bit more about this astronaut’s journey — and how it connects to your own?

The astronaut dismantles the old fairy tales before stealing a ship to find the Pink Moon. It’s both an escape and a confrontation. My own journey was similar — breaking away from political and corporate scripts I didn’t believe in, looking for a place where love, truth, and equality could exist without compromise. Space is my metaphor for that search.

You’ve lived a bit of a double life — from Chief of Staff in corporate strategy to full-time artist. Do you ever feel like those two worlds still collide in your work?

Every day. My corporate past taught me discipline and structure; my artistic life taught me chaos and flow. The tension between the two is a good engine — just like in life, where we’re all trying to balance work, passions, and private moments. I don’t see them as separate worlds anymore, more like two planets orbiting the same sun.

There’s a sense of irony in your lyrics, like you’re poking fun at the system while dancing through it. Is humor one of your creative tools, or does it just slip in naturally?

It’s both. Humor disarms. You can slide truth into a groove more easily if it makes people smile first. I learned in politics that if you can’t laugh at the absurdity of the system, it will crush you. In my songs, irony is a way to resist without turning bitter.

You speak and write in multiple languages — English, French, Spanish, Portuguese. How do you decide which language a song needs? Do the words lead the vibe, or the other way around?

It’s always the emotion first. Sometimes saudade in Portuguese carries a depth no other word can; sometimes English hits with precision; sometimes French gives a sharper edge. Travelling and collecting rhythms means I’m also collecting vocabularies. The song chooses its own language — I just listen.

If “Just Groove” is the moment of rebellion, what’s the moment of healing on Think Pink? Is there a track that feels like coming home?

Yes — The Pink Moon. If Just Groove is me saying “I won’t break,” The Pink Moon is me saying “I’m ready to land.” It’s where the fight softens, where you can breathe again. It’s not a perfect ending — more like a safe harbour before the next storm.

What does the Pink Moon mean to you now? Is it still a symbol, or has it become something real in your life?

It started as a symbol — the ultimate destination, the emotional gravity pulling the astronaut forward. Now, it’s also real. It’s love, it’s equality, it’s a way of living where softness and strength aren’t opposites. It’s not a place you arrive at once; it’s something you keep choosing, every day.

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It’s been over a decade since you last played in Australia. What made now the right  time to come back —and how does it feel to return after all this time?  

Yes. Too long. I’m excited to be back and explore new parts of Australia like Perth and  Adelaide. So much has happened in our lives since then. There’s so much to catch up on —now is always the right time, isn’t it? 

You’re jumping on Bloc Party’s 20th anniversary tour — how did that connection  happen, and what drew you to the idea of joining them?  

We’ve always been fans of Bloc Party. Silent Alarm is a seminal record for this band. We’re  honoured to be a part of it. I think we just saw the opportunity and said, “Fuck. We have  to go back.” 

Both you and Bloc Party have always pushed genre boundaries in your own ways.  How do you see your sound fitting into this tour alongside theirs?  

It just feels natural. There are many shades to both of our bands so it’ll be interesting to  see it all happen in real time. Musicians feed off of one another when they share the same  stage, and that energy will only reveal itself the first night in Sydney. 

Songs like “Cough Syrup” and “My Body” still hit hard with fans. With a shorter  support slot, how do you decide what makes the cut for your setlist?  

They’re on the set list! 

You’re hitting major cities across Australia and New Zealand — is there a particular  show or city you’re most looking forward to playing?  

I’m excited to go everywhere. I know it’s a cop out to say it, but it’s true. We’re always up  for new experiences. We hope this is the second of hopefully many more trips out here. I  could probably answer your question better, when that happens.

You’ve built a reputation for powerful, high-energy live shows. Can fans expect  anything new or different from this run of performances?  

We are going to try new things and old. Experiment and switch around—not get too  precious. We’ll honour the songs that got us here, but first and foremost, we will honour  our creative spirit.  

Does your mindset or prep change when you’re supporting another band versus  headlining your own tour?  

Each set tells the story; it’s just a matter of how fast you’re getting there. This time, we’ll  just have to cut a few scenes. 

Bloc Party’s Silent Alarm is such a cornerstone for indie rock fans. Was that album  ever on your radar growing up or early in the band’s life?  

Absolutely: I had the entirety of Silent Alarm on my first ever iPod. It just becomes a part  of the bloodstream that young. 

There’s a huge fanbase for you down here — do you see this tour as a bit of a  reintroduction, and could it lead to a full headline tour soon?  

Definitely a reintroduction. This is not the end of the story between Australia/NZ and us.  

What’s coming next for Young the Giant after this tour — any new music, projects, or  surprises on the horizon?  

I guess you’ll have to come to the show to find out?

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You’ve worked with incredible producers like Kyle McCammon and the team at Evoke Sounds. How do you approach collaboration in the studio — are you more of a vision-first artist, or do you like to build the concept together from scratch?

Yes, they’re the best  Every song and producer I work with is different, but I love starting from whatever I’m feeling or is top of mind at that moment and building the song from there. Sometimes with a melody or a musical hook, other times it’s just a lyric I jotted down in a note on my phone. I’ve been lucky to work with producers who are open to following the creative process wherever it takes us, even when it leads us somewhere totally unexpected. In collaborations, I try to stay open and curious. The best work happens when there’s trust and no ego in the room.
There’s a cinematic quality to your music — especially in “Stone Cold.” How intentional is that storytelling lens when you’re writing or producing? Are you visualizing scenes as you create?

I wouldn’t say I necessarily set out with that intention, but I come from a background in acting and before pursuing music, studied Acting at the Victorian College of the Arts so storytelling feels second nature to me. I write music from my own lived experience, so naturally there’s always some sort of a narrative- a character, a moment, a shift. Whether intentional or not, it’s all storytelling and I think that’s what brings the songs to life.

The official video for “Stone Cold,” shot at Archie Brothers, is vibrant and unexpected. What drew you to that location, and how did that playful aesthetic contrast or complement the song’s deeper message?

I had many long brainstorming sessions with the Director Frederick McHenry before we came up with the idea for the “Stone Cold” music video. We kept coming back to this idea of “playing games” and loved the idea of shooting it in an arcade or something similar.

Once we found Archie Brothers it was perfect- we even used one of their escape rooms that was Rubik’s Cube-themed, which felt symbolic in all the right ways. We knew we wanted it set at night, but we were drawn to the contrast of bright colours, slow-motion action shots and something a little dreamlike, almost intoxicating.

My good friend Ed McCullough, who studied with me at VCA, kindly stepped in to play the “love interest,” which added a whole new layer. Amid all the chaos and neon beauty, it’s the quiet looks between us that hint at something shifting… like things could change in an instant… could turn stone cold.

You’ve already achieved impressive chart success with tracks like “Beautiful Liar” and “Hold Me.” How do you mentally and creatively handle the pressure of following up high-performing singles?

That’s a great question and honestly I think I’ll always feel that pressure- but I put it on myself! However, I’ve been incredibly lucky and proud that so far each release has outperformed the last…phew! Hopefully I can keep it that way.

While I’d be lying if I said things like streams or chart success don’t matter, I’ve learned not to let the numbers define the work. At the end of the day, they’re out of my control. What is in my control is the quality of the music. So I try to focus on creating songs I’m proud of, music that feels honest and intentional. I’ve learned so much in the relatively short time I’ve been releasing music and with each track, I try to offer something fresh and meaningful. Especially in an industry that’s as fast-moving as this one.

Your sound blends R&B, soul, and pop with an international polish. How do you stay grounded in your Australian roots while building a global identity as an artist?

Australia, and Melbourne in particular, has such a rich live music culture and I love testing out new music there and watching how people respond in real time. There’s a special magic in live music which always reminds me why I love doing it.

In Australia, we are influenced by so many different cultures and music genres which is amazing. While I think my sound is global, there’s something inherently “Aussie” about music that is straight to the point, real and a little rough around the edges…I don’t know if I’ll ever stray too far from that.

There’s a noticeable thread of emotional honesty in your work — even when the production is sleek and upbeat. How do you balance vulnerability with musical confidence in your songwriting?

For me, vulnerability is the foundation. I can’t create without it. It’s the honesty in the lyrics that gives me the confidence to share the music with the world. If I’ve lived it, felt it, and can articulate it in a way that feels true then I trust that someone else will connect to it, too.

Having been endorsed by tastemakers like Hernán Cattáneo and featured on major platforms, how do you decide which aspects of your artistry to evolve and which to protect as core to your identity?
Yes that support was amazing and a huge confirmation that I was heading in the right direction. I think as artists (and as people) we’re always evolving but I try to stay rooted in what made me start in the first place: real lyrics, emotive melodies, and a connection to story. That core doesn’t change, even if the sound around it does.

Your upcoming EP is titled Reasons I Can’t Sleep — a striking concept. Can you share some insight into the overarching themes of the EP and how “Stone Cold” fits into that emotional landscape?
I love that you asked that. The title came out of a conversation with my manager almost a year ago- we were talking about how so many of the songs on the EP were quite different in their vibe, but the themes were all things that kept me up at night. If you know me well, you’d know I’ve struggled with sleep my whole life- whether it’s from jet lag, being out too late, overthinking, disappointment, or hope. Reasons I Can’t Sleep is a collection of the things that have kept my mind racing at 2AM (the title of my previous release). “Stone Cold” is one of those reasons I couldn’t sleep for a while- you only have to listen to the lyrics to figure out why.

Looking ahead, what does “success” mean to you now — especially after seeing early international traction? Are there new markers of growth you’re chasing, creatively or personally?

Honestly, seeing “Stone Cold” land on playlists and charts around the world has been surreal. It’s one thing to make music that you love, but it’s another to know that people in places I’ve never been to are connecting with it. That kind of reach has definitely shifted my idea of success and I’d really love to tour my music. I’ve done original shows in Melbourne, but now I’m dreaming about how audiences might respond in other countries. That’s the next chapter I’m chasing.

Creatively and personally, I feel like I’ve found my stride and I just want to keep that momentum going. Keep releasing music, stay inspired by other artists, places, and people, and build something that lasts.

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Arcadia feels like a deeply personal journey through light and darkness. What inspired you to explore themes of the afterlife and transformation in this album?

Not to be morbid, but we are all going to die. It’s a reality that we all live with each day, and we see ourselves aging as those close to us are doing the same. I think it’s important to acknowledge this reality, and to make your peace with it in the here-and-now. I believe that there is a universal consciousness that we are all a part of—a consciousness that exists outside of space and time. Each of us is a unique expression of that universal consciousness, and we each have our own mind and consciousness that is unique to us. When we die, we shed our physical bodies and minds, and we return to the current of universal consciousness that we all came from. For me, that is the “afterlife”.

You blend plainchant melodies with ambient electronics in a really unique way. How do you approach balancing ancient musical traditions with modern sound design?

I guess I don’t really think of it that way when I’m writing. To me, it’s all part of a greater continuum, whether it’s from the 12th century or the 21st century. I’m always searching for the right combination, and this was the one that spoke to me as I was creating “Arcadia”.

The vocal performances by Sofía Campoamor are hauntingly beautiful. How did you come to collaborate with her, and what did she bring to the emotional core of the album?

Sofía Campoamor and I met in 2023 just after “Evensong” was released. I had recently performed at a monthly music salon in Brooklyn called Soundshop, and Sofía performed at the following month’s salon. I fell in love with her voice and her spirit, and she and I became friends over the following year, attending each other’s shows and getting to know each other. At the end of 2024, I asked Sofía if she would be interested in working with me on a new album called “Arcadia”, and she was all-in on both singing and collaborating. This album was the first time that I collaborated with another composer, and together we developed 3 of the 8 tracks on the album. Sofía also helped me with the other tracks by coming into my studio and recording demos as I was writing. The resulting sound is unique because it’s a combination of our two musical voices.

Several tracks feature Latin texts—some original, some traditional. What drew you to Latin as a language for expressing the ideas in Arcadia?

I started with texts from Revelations, and from the traditional Requiem mass, and these are used in the first 2 tracks and on “Et lux perpetua”. For the bulk of the album, I wrote original texts and had them translated into Latin. Since “Evensong” was all in Latin, I wanted to maintain that narrative consistency, as I feel like Latin gives the music a sense of timelessness.

The album moves through a clear narrative arc from darkness to light. Did you have a story in mind as you composed, or did the journey reveal itself as you worked?

It’s funny—the narrative arc of “Arcadia” didn’t fully materialize until the album was done. Before that, I had an idea of what the album was about, but this changed once I heard the whole thing together. Originally, I had thought that the whole story takes place in Arcadia, a mythical paradise where everything is perfect and peaceful. I thought that the album would be about this idyllic paradise, but somewhere along the way, the story developed and became quite dark and dramatic, and I realized that the album is about the journey from death to Arcadia. We don’t actually arrive in paradise until the very last track. Everything leading up to that moment is more like the medieval concept of Purgatory, where the soul goes through a final test and a cleansing before entering Heaven.

Can you share a specific moment during the recording or production of Arcadia that was particularly meaningful or challenging for you?

My favorite part was getting to work with everyone again, in the same studio (Reservoir Studio in NYC), and with the same engineer (Robert L. Smith). We had such a great time making “Evensong” in that environment, and it was a real thrill to be back there 2 years later to make the follow-up album. We’ve become a well-oiled machine at this point!

The instrumentation blends strings, piano, synths, and layered vocals. How did you decide on this particular sonic palette, and how did it evolve during the creative process?

Over the 30+ years that I’ve been releasing music, I’ve always tried to innovate with each new album. I’m always looking for new sonic combinations, and new ways of expressing these big ideas of life and death and existence. Each album builds on the previous one, while also adding something new. Piano, synthesizer, and keyboards have always played a major role in my sound, along with live strings. On “Evensong”, I took the big step of incorporating live vocals in the sound, and “Arcadia” takes this a step further.

Arcadia is described as a sequel to Evensong. How does this album build on or differ from that earlier work, both musically and thematically?

“Arcadia” was written 2 years after the completion of “Evensong”. The music of “Evensong” expressed the journey from conception to death, and it had an open ending that could either return to the beginning of the life cycle or to some other place beyond death. After its release, “Evensong” also became the score for a full-length ballet by choreographer Maria Caruso. Maria’s choreography added a new level of depth to the music, and when I saw the ballet premier in late 2024, I was inspired to create a follow-up. Maria’s dance piece ended with the main dancer disappearing into the wings as the lights faded to black, and I found myself asking “Where did she go?” So, “Arcadia” answers this question.

Ambient music often invites listeners into a contemplative space. What do you hope listeners feel or take away from experiencing Arcadia?

I’m always aiming to take people on a journey. It’s my hope that they are inspired by “Arcadia”, and that it conjures up images and emotions for them.

Finally, as an artist who has worked across many styles and projects, how does Arcadia reflect your growth or shift in creative direction at this point in your career?

“Arcadia” really feels like a pinnacle for me. It feels like the culmination of everything I’ve done since 1994, while also being the start of something brand new. I have a feeling that there will be more music coming in the future from me and Sofia, since this album was such a joy to make.

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