Music Interviews

You’ve described ‘I Give In’ as a song about the tension between motion and stasis — how much of that came from personal experience versus observation of the world around you?

Kevin: “I Give In” is almost exclusively describing personal experience and emotion. We really tried to harness the essence of an internal emotional rollercoaster and reflect that in both the lyrics and sonic elements of the song.

‘Endlessly’ dives into this idea of a “second death.” Was there a specific moment or late-night thought that led you to explore that concept in a song?

Evan: There are a few specific moments that made it into the song, but “late-night thought” feels more accurate. I was thinking about how fixated people can be on being remembered, and how much effort goes into shaping or preserving a legacy.

I remember first seriously thinking about that idea in 9th or 10th grade, when I heard the song “By Torpedo or Crohn’s” by WHY?. There’s a great line in that song that says, “Only those evil live to see their own likeness in stone.” I think everyone wants to be remembered to some degree, but that song was the first time I really thought about how wanting to be remembered or chasing your own ego could make you “evil.”

The “second death” quote you’re talking about is something I read years later that feels much more narcissistic: “You die twice: once when you die, and again when your name is last spoken.” Like, is that suggesting that not having people talk about you is as bad as physically dying?

“Endlessly” is me working through these two conflicting attitudes towards legacy: how much of our legacy is real impact, and how much is just performance? Ultimately, we don’t get to control how we’re remembered, but that doesn’t mean our presence goes unfelt. Even our smallest, day-to-day interactions have consequences that ripple out into the world — not to mention the profound impact we have on the people and communities we care about and work hard to support. That feels more meaningful to me than any statue or gravestone.

The lyrics in both tracks feel deeply introspective. Do any of you tend to write alone first and bring it to the group, or is the songwriting process more collaborative from the beginning?

Evan: Most of the time, we will develop the core of our songs solo, like the sound and themes and the majority of the lyrics, but we rely on each other a lot to help fine tune things and round out our songs at the end. But we don’t adhere to any particular writing pattern. In the past we’ve all gone into a room together with a bunch of guitars and no ideas only to emerge a few hours later with a finished song. We’ve also done some partner writing where one person will give a pretty fleshed out instrumental to another person and ask for lyrics or vice-versa.

You toured Australia for the first time last year — how did that trip shape you as a band? Did any part of the tour leave an unexpected impact?

Kevin: I think our tour was a very validating experience. We’re so grateful to feel validated by like-minded bands and fans – we know it’s not something that many artists can come by easily. It was unexpected and extremely humbling to learn that our songs are part of people’s musical world.

You’ve mentioned being long-time fans of the Aussie indie scene, drawing influence from bands like Floodlights and RVG. What is it about Australian indie rock that hits differently for you?

Evan: We all bonded over a love jangly, bright, fast-paced, guitar-driven indie rock, and we’ve found that Australia consistently generates a ton of awesome bands that share a lot of those qualities. We are all huge fans of Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever and started out basically just trying to copy their sound and vibe. While diving into their influences and contemporaries we got to know Australian indie rock pretty well and fell head-over-heels in love with the scene.

There’s this beautifully bittersweet tone that threads through both tracks. Was that emotional palette something you aimed for from the start, or did it emerge naturally as the songs took shape?

Evan: I think we came at these songs from both of those angles. We wanted to write about more abstract emotional concepts, so we felt like a touch of melancholy would help convey the lyrics better. We also felt inspired and empowered to push ourselves into more complex harmonic territory after recording our album One Way Ticket to Midnight.

Working with Mark Anderson, Joey Oaxaca, and Nick Townsend brought some serious talent into the room. What did each of them add to the tracks that felt especially vital?

Evan: Mark worked as both a producer and recording engineer with us on these tracks as well as our last album and we love every minute that we get to spend with him. He is sort of a local legend in the Denver area who is extremely talented as an engineer and musician in his own right, but what really blew us away is how quickly he can hear us play part of a song or even just describe a song and he immediately understand exactly what we’re going for and knows how we can achieve it. Working with Mark is like feeding napkin sketches into a machine and getting back beautiful, vibrant oil canvases. Also, he’s just a super cool and nice guy. Handsome too.

Joey has mixed a ton of music for bands that we love and he knows how to make us sound like our idols. When you’re in a band, you sometimes hear your own song so many times that you lose perspective and don’t know if you’ve strayed too far from your vision or if the song has just lost all its structure and cohesion. Joey is great at putting life back into our songs and making us feel excited again.

Nick has also worked with a ton of bands that we love and knows how to elevate our songs so that they can stand up next to our inspirations. It’s an emotional experience to hear Nick turn something you started out writing on your couch into a polished track that fits in with the music you admire.

A lot of your music wrestles with weighty ideas — legacy, identity, letting go — yet it’s delivered through energetic, jangly rock. How do you strike that balance between heavy themes and melodic lightness?

Evan: Pairing weighty, emotional ideas and lyrics with energetic yet moody sounds is central to indie rock. It can be very cathartic to hear those kinds of ideas sung in that way. I think that’s a lot of the appeal of music in general, taking words or a melody that resonates with you or reflects something inside of you and then using instruments to amplify that message. We just cover this one specific case where maybe you resonate with vague lyrics about legacy or identity and feel like the message is more powerful in the context of jangling guitars. I mean, at least that’s true for me

When you talk about taking the “path of least resistance” in ‘I Give In,’ it almost sounds like resignation can be both tragic and freeing. Is that duality something you were consciously exploring?

Kevin: Absolutely! That sentiment and duality was a driving force when we wrote the song. The idea was to find something freeing or something positive out of a sense of tragedy or frustration. We’re all generally positive-minded people, so we wanted the final sound to lean a little towards the “freeing” side of that duality.

Now that this double A-side is out in the world, where do you see things heading next for Mainland Break in 2025? More new music, another tour, or something unexpected?

Kevin: We’re looking to focus on writing new music. We aren’t locked in to an album cycle at this time, and that’s really freeing. That gives us the opportunity to explore new sounds and tones. It’s exciting to try and overlay new sonic filters with the classic jangle pop sound.

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“Hers” is described as your most insular and intimate project yet. How did self-producing this album influence its emotional tone and creative direction compared to working with outside producers?

I think more than anything, it made the album a more singular vision, musically. Collaborating with other people means that micro decisions go in directions you wouldn’t have gone yourself, and sometimes that can be a great thing. But with this record, I knew I wanted to be incredibly precise and stubborn with every small decision. Which of course almost drove me crazy.

You’ve mentioned this album reflects on a long-term relationship rather than infatuation. How did writing from that perspective change your lyrical approach or musical choices?

Lyrically it had the biggest impact. Put quite plainly, it meant that when it came to writing about love, it was a totally new perspective. One that I foolishly thought might be simpler and involve less chaos. That wasn’t the case!

You likened making the album to ‘having a year to write a really important email.’ Can you expand on how that slower, more reflective process shaped the final product?

I’ve definitely done so in the past, but with this record I gave myself a little longer to stew with the songs.. I think self-editing over a long time has become something I believe in, and with this album there was more of that. I’d like to think that brought about a more lived-in album this time around.

There’s a distinct sonic atmosphere in “Hers”—twilight tones, creaking piano, woodwinds. How intentional was that aesthetic, and what emotions were you hoping to evoke through these textures?

Very intentional. I think overall, I didn’t have too much of an idea what I was trying to get across emotionally – but it felt like I knew deep down this music needed those textures, and of course the warmth and gravity that comes with them. And I wanted ‘production’ in the conventional sense to feature very lightly on this record. All of this record is just arranging and recording great players.

You’ve been candid about the ‘British shame’ around writing love songs. How do you balance vulnerability and self-consciousness in your songwriting?

With difficulty! It’s an ever-changing wave I think. There are moments I allow myself to write the thing I might not have written on another morning. It’s basically one long journey of self-acceptance. I’m not sure you every fully reach a destination, but I think sometimes you make things along the way you can stand behind and that’s definitely something

With six studio albums under your belt now, how do you feel your relationship with songwriting and storytelling has evolved?

It’s a strange one. I think I’ve gone through a lot of stages, just like everyone else does growing up. I sort of feel like I’ve come back to melodrama and comedy in a full circle really. But I also feel very open to what the future might hold. I know I want to keep breaking my own mould somehow.

Your lyrics often mix dry wit with deep emotional weight. Is humor a coping mechanism in your writing, or does it come naturally as part of your personality?

It comes naturally for sure. I’m definitely that cliché kid that realised comedy was a powerful way to get through school.. and then of course you realise it’s also a very powerful way to get through life. I think it feels incredibly good to laugh. And I’m generally of the thinking that life is full of suffering, so laughter is the bravest, smartest thing to be trying to do.

You’re about to tour major venues like London’s Roundhouse and LA’s Greek Theatre. How does the scale of these shows affect how you present such intimate music live?

We shall see I guess! I know that I’d like the shows to feel like they hold the space.. generally I’m just going to aim for it to be the greatest live performances we’ve given yet. No pressure

Many of your fans connect deeply with the emotional honesty in your music. What kind of conversations or feedback have most moved you since releasing “Hers”?

It’s early days still I guess, but a lot of people have told me how important the album has become to them already, and that means a lot of course. Starting out, all you really can hope for is to have a place on the shelf next to people’s favourite albums.

You started releasing music at a young age and have built a dedicated following over time. Looking back, what would you tell your younger self as you release this sixth album?

Don’t freak out, I’ve been sent by an online music platform to speak to you. Also, shave your “beard”.

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“I’m Doing Better” feels like a raw, emotionally honest leap for the band—what inspired you to open up more on this EP compared to previous releases?

There was a period where we were kind of growing apart a little bit. We’ve been basically attached to one another for as long as I can remember, way before the band started, and I think we’d kind of forgotten what it was like to be friends. We took a trip together and we had it out with each other, got into some heavy stuff, were really honest with each other in a really healthy way. These conversations laid the foundation to be able to get back to a place where we could speak about our lives and our past honestly in our music and it also strengthened our friendship a lot.

The track ‘Hopeless Dreams’ hits on the fear of giving up on your goals—was there a specific turning point that pushed you to write this song?

For sure. I think with the way music is currently, and with all the different hats you have to wear to be a performing artist it can sometimes be so overwhelming. You have your good days but sometimes it can make you feel a bit hopeless. That on top of stuff I was going through at the time amounted in me questioning what I’m doing with my life, where I’m going, whether or not I have the strength to keep trying and it scared the shit out of me. It’s hard because this band has become literally my entire life and the thought of giving up on it is terrifying. But writing the song, processing those feelings, digging through my past, while the four of us we’re getting our spark back personally made me realise that this band is worth so much more to me than streams or follows, and I think that got lost a little bit. 

Ciarann, you mentioned embracing your early emo/pop punk influences—what bands or albums were on repeat while writing this record?

Honestly a lot of the time I was re-discovering the records that made me fall in love with emo/pop punk music. I’m a nostalgia addict too, I drink that shit in. I went through my Green Day phase again, in a big way, Fall Out Boy, Sum 41. But I think what triggered this was touring with Stand Atlantic in 22, and seeing the connection between their audience and themselves, and I remember feeling like I belonged out there in the audience. It was like I’d ignored the freaky emo kid in me for so long, so I wanted to tap into that for our new music.

From SXSW to regional Australia, you’ve played everywhere this year—how did the overseas tour shape the energy or confidence behind this EP?

I think we’d had a few questions going into playing some of the new songs live, so grinding in America was really helpful in seeing how they are received in front of people who probably have never heard of us before. Which is a cool feeling when the new stuff you make gets a bigger reaction than the old stuff, as an artist at least I think that’s the cream. It’s the best payoff.

‘Manners Street’ is such a heartfelt nod to Wellington—how has your hometown shaped who Bakers Eddy is today, both musically and personally?

I don’t know, I guess cause we’ve been away for so long now we kind of lost our roots a little bit. I think we’ve been so focused on what’s ahead that we forgot to look back at where we came from. So when we were trying to re-connect with each other a lot of stories from our childhood were being thrown around and it helped us find those roots again. I don’t know how it’s affected us as a band but our little slice of Wellington is deeply ingrained in our personal relationship, where we used to hangout, where our first show was, the hippie commune Jamie’s Dad ran that we used to steal Codys from, all that stuff is always nice to come back to when we’re on the road or in the weeds of band life over here. That’s why we wrote Manners Street. 

There’s a strong feeling of brotherhood in this EP. What’s it like creating music with people you’ve grown up with? How does that long-term bond influence the writing room?

Because we’ve known each other forever and we’ve gone through everything together there’s definitely this environment that we’ve created where we can be brutally honest with each other in what’s being created, and we can argue about things but bounce back almost immediately, especially after we spent more time re-connecting. We also know how to push each other’s buttons so there’s always that game at play but honestly all of this is such an important part in not just making music but like everything we do. And I think that bond is so much bigger than this band.

This record was self-produced with Vincent McIntyre and mixed by Justin Gerrish—how did that combination help bring out the sound you were chasing?

Vince is the best, he’s been a friend of mine for a long time and I’m so musically envious of his band Fan Girl, so I’ve wanted to make something with him for a very long time. He’s got this ability to make beautiful music sound like a car crash and then make it sound beautiful again, which matches my “keep all the ugly bits in” style of production very well. But he’s still got an ear for ‘big’ which is what we wanted to capture. When we found out Justin was down to mix we all lost our shit, he’s done so many of the records we grew up obsessing over, Strokes, Weezer, Bic Runga. We’re sometimes a little maximalist when it comes to tracks so we often tread that line of ‘too much sound’ but he did an amazing job at finding space for everything while still having that ‘wall of sound’ feeling.  

You’ve said this EP is high energy but more vulnerable—was it a challenge to balance emotional depth with the fast-paced sonic punch you’re known for?

I think it was more that we’ve, for a long time, kind of hid the emotional depth behind metaphors and contradicting music. It’s something I’ve always loved but it also feels like a safety net sometimes. The challenging part for me was putting my feelings into words that didn’t beat around the bush as much, and be musically honest with the way the chords feel. I still love making melancholy music but it felt fresh to match feelings with sound. But they’re still fast, that will never change. 

You’ve built a reputation for explosive live shows—how do the new tracks translate on stage? Any particular songs from the EP that already feel like fan favourites?

Yeah people are singing ‘Dust’ and ‘Manners’ already. We’ve always wanted big sing along moments so it does feel pretty great hearing your words back thrown back at you, especially when they’re so fresh. We played Dust at our first show back in Melbourne and I don’t think we’ve ever felt a reaction like that for a song before. We haven’t really played the unreleased stuff yet so I’m excited to see how they go live.

Looking ahead to the August/September tour, what can fans expect from the live experience this time around? Any surprises in store?

It’s a fact that right now we are the best we’ve ever been and one of the best live bands in this country so I think, if the last show is anything to go by, these will be the funnest shows we’ve played so far. I love making music and recording but we only make these silly songs so we can play them in rooms in front of people we love and have a connection to the songs, so I genuinely cant wait.

BAKERS EDDY

I’M DOING BETTER EP TOUR

Friday 8th August – The Austral – Adelaide, SA
Friday 15th August – Buddys Bar – Sydney, NSW
Saturday 16th August – 7th Day Brewery – Brookvale, NSW
Thursday 21st August – Mo’s Desert Clubhouse – Gold Coast, QLD
Friday 22nd August – Black Bear Lodge – Brisbane, QLD
Friday 12th September – Shotkickers – Melbourne, VIC

 For tickets and more information visit www.bakerseddy.com

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‘Honey’ feels like such a celebration – not just of queer joy, but of confidence, playfulness, and sensuality. What inspired you to channel those feelings into this track?

This track started on a golden summer afternoon with one of my best friends, laughing, playing around with melodies, and getting stuck on the lyrics. So naturally, we turned to the wisest woman we knew—her mum—and asked, “What does sex mean to you?” Her answers gave us some hilarious and unexpectedly profound inspiration. Honestly, I just wanted to write something cheeky, fun, and a little bit stupid—in the best way. I’m all about lifting up my friends, making them laugh, and giving people something to dance to and feel themselves in. ‘Honey’ is that—it’s confidence, it’s joy, it’s me being playful and giving zero apologies.

The video is dreamy, bold, and unapologetically flirtatious. What was your vision going into it, and how did you bring that to life?

I wanted it to feel like a queer summer daydream—sticky, sweet, sexy, and a little chaotic in the best way. Think: ice cream melting down your wrist, your crush giving you that look, a house party where someone’s always dancing in the kitchen. I knew I wanted  my friend Paris as my love interest—he’s gorgeous, charismatic, and he gets the vibe. We wanted to create something flirty and delicious, something that grabs your attention and doesn’t let go. The whole video feels like a tease—just the way I like it.

You’ve spoken about representation being important. What does it mean to you to put out a video like this right now – for yourself, and for your community?

When my dad read the original video script, he was like, “Absolutely not.” He thought it was too much. And honestly, that made me want to do it even more. I want to take up space—not just for me, but for other queer people of colour who don’t always see themselves in this kind of work. I grew up needing to see someone like me doing this—being sensual, being joyful, being seen. This video is my way of saying, “We’re here. We’re sexy. Get into it.”

‘Honey’ is described as a shift in your musical direction. What sparked that change, and how does this new sound reflect where you’re at in life right now?

I think I was holding back before—like I hadn’t quite figured out how to bring all of me into the music. ‘Honey’ cracked something open. It let me step into a sound that’s bolder, freer, and way more fun. I’ve always been a little afraid to really put myself out there, but now I feel like I’m stepping into the spotlight with a wink and a little strut. This track is the beginning of a new era for me—one where I’m not trying to tone myself down.

There’s such a fun, feel-yourself energy in this song – was that vibe just as strong in the studio while making it?

Absolutely. I was dancing the whole time. Making ‘Honey’ felt like one long flirt—between me and the beat, me and the melody, me and myself. You know that feeling when you try on an outfit and instantly feel hot? That was me in the studio, but with sound. There was so much joy in the process, and I think you can hear that in every second of the track.

You’re celebrating the release with a show at Shotkickers – what can fans expect from that night? Any surprises you’re willing to tease?

Let’s just say: wear something you can sweat in. It’s going to be hot—musically and emotionally. I’m pulling out all the stops. Expect live vocals, cheeky moments, and a few unreleased tracks that might just become your new obsessions. Also, some of my favourite artists—Sim and Isadora—are supporting, and they are going to blow it up. It’s a night for the girls, the gays, and the theys. Come ready to dance, cry, flirt… maybe all at once.

Can you tell us a bit about the creative team behind the video? Who helped you shape this vision, and what was it like working together?

I worked with Checklist Productions on the video, and honestly? Dream team. I’d seen them in action on a friend’s music video and thought—okay, these gals know exactly what they’re doing. I loved that it was a female-led crew too—it made the whole process feel safe, collaborative, and genuinely fun. I came into it with more of a moodboard in my head than a full-blown treatment—just some scattered shot ideas and strong vibes. I’ve always found it tricky getting ideas out of my head and onto paper, but the girls were incredible at taking my little chaos and turning it into something bold and beautiful. They just got it. One moment I’ll never forget was when we were filming the bridge. The hallway lighting, the energy, the tension—it all came together and I thought, damn… this is about to be hot. That was the moment I knew the video was going to give everything it needed to. Total magic.

This track feels like a confidence boost in audio form. What advice would you give to someone still learning to embrace their own self-expression?

That voice in your head telling you you’re not good enough? It lies. Trust me, I hear it all the time. The trick is to keep going anyway. Keep showing up, keep trying—even when you’re scared. Especially when you’re scared. If it makes you nervous, it probably means you care, and that’s a good sign. Self-expression is a muscle—you build it by using it.

With ‘Honey’ being the first taste of more music to come, can you give us a hint of what’s on the horizon?

Absolutely—there’s so much more where Honey came from. The next singles are giving early 2000s R&B/pop: think slow grinds, flipped phones, lip gloss, and feelings you can’t shake. It’s moody, flirty, and full of that ugh, I miss them but also never again kind of energy. I won’t give away too much… but let’s just say there’s a track that might make you text your ex, and another that’ll make you forget they ever existed. The EP is a bit of a diary entry—equal parts heartbreak and hot girl energy. I’ve always loved a good breakup anthem, but I’m also obsessed with songs that make you feel yourself in the mirror. It’s a real mix of moods, but the common thread is honesty. These songs are all just me—my feelings, my mess, my joy—laid bare.This whole project feels like a new chapter. I’m more self-assured, more grounded in who I am—as Thorne and just as a person. I want people to feel everything when they listen to these tracks: sexy, angry, vulnerable, powerful. All of it. Because that’s what life is, right?

The title alone – ‘Honey’ – is such a vibe. How did you land on that name, and what does it represent for you personally?

It’s sweet, sticky, golden—and maybe just a little messy. That’s the vibe I wanted to capture. The word “Honey” feels like a wink and a kiss and a tiny little dare all rolled into one. It’s indulgent and intimate, and for me, it’s a reminder to stay soft but strong. Also, the metaphor… if you know, you know. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Congrats on ‘Best Behaviour’ – it feels both personal and punchy. What moment sparked the idea for this song? Was it based on a real experience?

The song talks to the underlying pressures you feel when meeting the parents. It’s always laced with trepidation. To be on one’s best beahviour is the expectation. To be nervous is understandable. To be perfect is unlikely. The rawness and fragility of this song reflects everyone’s state of mind in such moments. Even being an artist can’t prepare you for moments like these.

The track was originally written years ago but came together in Chantilly, France – can you paint a picture of that songwriting session? What was the vibe like?

Ned could give you a 10 minute spiel on this, and he has been known to do this after a long night with a fair few Guiness consumed prior. 

Chantilly, known for its cream, soon to be more commonly known for being the birthplace of NO CIGAR’s third record. A beautiful chateau and the bucolic gardens and grounds just a 15 minute walk away from the stables, turned Airbnb where we resided. Late November 2023, the trees shedding their leaves as the European winter slowly took hold. The house was old, and the stairs they creaked. The fire crackled, and a deer’s head watched over us, as we explored soundscapes new and old, experimented with a freedom and escapism never experienced before. It was a session like no other we’d had, and very quickly bore fruits. The idyllic beauty of the town and its surrounds a constant source of inspiration. By day the drums bet loud, and by night, an oven mit softened the kick pedal so as to keep our host’s young child from waking. I’d do it again. 10 times over. Hopefully you think the music is as good as the time we had there.

You’ve said meeting the parents is nerve-wracking – what’s the most awkward or memorable “meet the parents” moment from the band’s own lives?

Arty once dated a girl with the same last name as him, so her dad wasn’t all that friendly until he knew the family trees didn’t entwine. Made for a few awkward dinners. They’re no longer together, so probably for the best that they never reproduced, just in case there was some mutual lineage.

Your sound blends indie rock with psychedelia and groove – when you’re writing, do you lean more into jamming as a band or structured songwriting first?

We write off the vibe in the room. It starts jammy, and refines quite quickly into structured material. Particularly since Willy has stepped away from the guitar, he’s immediately finding phrasings that work with instrumental parts, and we’re all spitballing ideas off the bat. It’s a collaborative space, and a productive one too. It feels like we’re not short of ideas often.

Willy’s vocal delivery on ‘Best Behaviour’ is full of character – how do you approach vocals to make sure the emotion always cuts through?

Willy is a very emotive person. He brings passion to every facet of his life, and singing allows you to create a vulnerability and expression of self like no other. He often likes to think that he’s singing in the shower, as if no-one’s listening, which may help reduce the fear of performing and allow him to tap into that extra emotive state.

You’ve played everywhere from sold-out NZ shows to venues across Europe and Australia. Which city surprised you the most in terms of crowd energy?

The Mancs do it well. Always bringing the energy and ready for a good time. It was hard not to send it in Manchester the night before our biggest headline show in London the next night. Glad we’re ending the UK leg of the tour there this year.

What’s been your most surreal ‘we’ve made it’ moment so far – a festival, a message from a hero, or a random place hearing your track?

The most surreal moment would have to be selling out our first London show (three times). Taking the leap as a small band, and testing the waters as far from the Shire as you could go, and selling out was wild. You always aspire to more as an artist, it’s a constant work in progress, so we’ve never thought “we’ve made it”, but that was pretty damn special. Playing the show was even better.

You’ve worked with Conor Jaine (Mako Road, Summer Thieves) – what did he bring to the track that took it to the next level?

CJ is the ultimate facilitator. He’s a studio on wheels, and in the case of this album, he grew wings and flew with us to Chantilly, France. He enables the escapism that we so seek, breaking away from the confines of a studio, to somewhere a little more homely. That alone breeds a healthy environment to create. He elevated this on so many levels. He always does.

With ‘The Great Escape’ still charting after 70 weeks, how do you balance the pressure to top that success with staying creatively free?

Being independent gives us the freedom to create what we want. It doesn’t feel like there is any real pressure at this stage, just an eagerness to release new music and share it with people worldwide. We were already writing ‘Under The Surface’ before ‘The Great Escape’ was released, much like we’ve already started the fourth record before releasing the third. Maybe being one step ahead means the pressure hasn’t had a chance to catch up with us yet.  

Last one – if each of you could describe NO CIGAR in one word, what would it be?

Arthur – Escapism

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“When It’s Raining” explores themes of loneliness and isolation. What was the inspiration behind the song, and how did you bring those emotions to life musically?

With this whole project we’ve been working on, we’ve been heavily focused on evoking emotions and feelings through the music. So when writing and recording ‘When It’s Raining’ we spent a lot of time getting the sounds right so that you can feel those raw emotions right from the beginning.

You mentioned that the song captures the feeling of being lost in anger and sadness. Can you share more about your personal experiences or thoughts that influenced this track?

When we wrote this song we were more focused on capturing emotions rather than telling a story. A lot of our songs are very upbeat and dancy – songs that put you in a good mood. This time we decided to write something in the opposite direction. These themes of isolation and loneliness are feelings everyone experiences at some point, and we wanted to capture how it feels to be in that state through the music and lyrics. The song is meant to serve as a reminder that everyone goes through tough times, but it’s important to remember you’re not alone.

The song follows your 2024 track “Heartbeat.” How does “When It’s Raining” differ musically and emotionally from “Heartbeat”?   

 “When It’s Raining” offers such a contrast to heartbeat in almost every way. “Heartbeat” is a super upbeat track loosely involving young romance, and the latter depicts the chaos of that falling apart. We tried to create these feelings as well as we could musically for each track. It mattered to us how the songs ‘felt’ more so than just how they sounded. Visually, the music videos for each are polar opposites as well.

This track was recorded at Neil Finn’s Roundhead Studio in Auckland. How did that environment contribute to the creation of the song?

Roundhead is such a creative space for us. There’s so many toys and fun pieces of gear for us to explore, we could spend weeks there just discovering new sounds. Being able to freely create in that kind of environment is so special, and I think a lot of the magic of that song comes from the room. Every stage of the song’s creation – writing, recording, producing was all done at Roundhead.

You collaborated with producers Joel Jones and Nic Manders, as well as Vivek Gabriel for mastering. How did they help shape the sound of “When It’s Raining”?

All three of them had such a vital role in the song coming into fruition and it really wouldn’t be possible without them. They really are the best of the best.

The visual collaboration with Tom Grut for the music video sounds exciting. Can you talk about the creative process behind the video and how it complements the song’s mood?

Tom is a genius… He totally gets our creative vision but takes our ideas and makes them 100x better. For this song, we knew we wanted rain, and we wanted lots of performance shots. When we started shooting, we were filming with the intention of the video being in colour but Tom had the brilliant idea of seeing how it would look in black and white, and we didn’t look back. That black and white palette shaped the song’s whole visual identity and it was such a good call from Tom.

You’ve signed with EMPIRE, marking a huge milestone for the band. What does this mean for you, and how does it impact your future as a band on the global stage?

Signing with EMPIRE has been so awesome for us, the team there has been so amazing and supportive of us and what we want to do and allowing us to create. We’ve always had dreams of being a global band, and reaching international markets has always been on the cards for us. We recently made our first trip over to the states to play some shows, which was such an incredible experience for us. EMPIRE has such an incredible global presence which makes us really excited to travel and share our music with the rest of the world.

Your music blends indie pop and rock influences. How would you describe your musical evolution, and where do you see yourselves heading in the future with this new direction?

Our main focus has always been to make music that we would want to listen to, and as we expand our listening palette we bring in a wider range of influences to the creative process. One thing we can guarantee is that we’ll stay true to who we are as musicians and make music that we’re proud of, and this will evolve as our taste evolves. Hopefully others will resonate with that.

The song is described as one that allows listeners to feel seen in their struggles. What do you hope listeners take away from “When It’s Raining”?

I think more than anything, we hope that listeners can feel a little less alone in their struggles. It’s super normal to feel the emotions the song explores, so we want people to know that it’s okay to feel rubbish, and you’re really not alone.

Looking ahead, what’s next for Borderline? Are there any upcoming projects or plans you’re particularly excited about in 2025?

100%, we’ve been hard at work for the past year and a half writing a bunch of new music, and we’ve spent the last 6 months recording a large handful of them. We’re about 60% done, and they are sounding so good. We’re so excited to share this new project with you, we think it’s our best work yet. We’ve also got lots more plans for touring in the coming year, lots of international shows and a bunch at home in NZ too. Keep an eye on our socials for updates, but we can’t wait to see a bunch more of the world this year and share our music with you.

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Killer Qız marks a major milestone in your journey. What was the driving force behind this album, and how does it reflect where you are as artists today?

Aigel Gaisina: This is our first full-length album in five years. We had a lot of material stored up—we released some of it as singles over time, but overall we were in a kind of silence mode, which is unusual for us—we used to release albums every year. During that break, there was the pandemic, the war, emigration. I moved—first to Turkey, then to Berlin. There was a very difficult adaptation process for my teenage child in a German school, and a partial abandonment of the concept of “home” as such. I feel like we’ve become completely cosmopolitan internally. As a Tatar who had already gone through assimilation and developed a mixed identity—absorbing both Tatar and Russian cultures—I felt after moving that continuing to blend with German, Turkish, or any other culture is not a loss, but a gain. We even have a song in German now, and writing in it was pure joy.

Ilya Baramia: The milestone is simply that we managed to record and submit an album after a five-year break. In 2022, after the full-scale invasion began, Aigel said many times that she couldn’t write songs and was afraid she never would again. I’m older, I’ve lived through different kinds of creative crises, and I kept telling her: don’t rush, breathe, don’t overthink—it will come back. And it did. It’s hard to put the driving force into words—we’re musicians, and our music is a natural, almost reflexive reaction to reality. We don’t invent concepts—we just create when it happens, and only later do we look back and see what it all meant. One clear desire this time was to make music that pulses and pushes forward—something danceable, in a sense. Most of the early drafts were slow, emotional ballads—but we wanted to inject them with dance beats, sometimes even aggressive ones. Not to dive into melancholy, but to hit the dancefloor instead.

This is your second album entirely in Tatar. Was returning to your native language a conscious decision, or did it just feel like the most natural way to express what you wanted to say?

Aigel Gaisina: I love my native language—it’s healing for me. In emigration, for some reason, your first identity becomes more tangible. I’ve talked to many Tatars who grew up mostly within Russian culture and hardly spoke Tatar, but once abroad, they began remembering the language and reviving family traditions. I guess it’s a grounding practice—when you leave, your home stays inside you, and you recreate it through rituals, through the language of your grandparents. But in general, I never consciously decide which of my native languages to write in. Songs just come in whatever language flows at that moment. We’ve had Tatar songs even on our Russian-language albums—it’s never been about sticking to a rule.

Ilya Baramia: I don’t care which language I’m working with. 90% of the music I’ve listened to and still listen to is not in Russian—English, French, Italian, German, Spanish. Emotion translates. Music is a universal language. Aigel is a very good poet—I trust her words no matter what language she writes in. The first language that woke up in her after the break was Tatar, so that’s where we started.

The album tells a gripping story about a DJ killer escaping the country. What inspired this concept, and how does it tie into the themes of loss, rebirth, and human nature?

Aigel Gaisina: That song is more like a joke, a child’s fantasy about how amazing it would be if the people who don’t know how to live among others—those who suppress, destroy, impose their will, roll over human lives without shame—would just get off the dancefloor of our lives. The country we left has always had serious problems with power and respect for individuals. But my generation grew up during a 20-year window where, even if life was hard, the state didn’t dare climb into your soul and force you to think and speak in a certain way—or dictate what music you were allowed to listen to.

Our concerts, along with those of many of our musician friends, are now banned in Russia. Some officials have decided they get to choose what people are allowed to hear. It’s arrogant and rude—not surprising, but infuriating. As our recent shows proved, a touch of dark, blood-tinged humor can work like a bit of antidote—dancing to a track where normal people defeat the madness of power-drunk officials and justice triumphs, even just in a song—that’s fun.

Ilya Baramia: I love when Aigel writes funny, punchy verses. And there’s always a depth to them that squeezes your heart. My main job is to catch and hold that feeling—that’s when the songs really land.

One of the most haunting moments on the album is the child’s voice shifting from Tatar to German in real time. How did that idea come about, and what does it say about cultural identity and assimilation?

Aigel Gaisina: The idea came up by accident. Initially, we just wanted to add voices of Tatar children who had emigrated—let them say a few words about what “home” means to them and how they’re experiencing emigration. One of the girls, Alsu, turned out to be incredibly talkative and funny, and I suddenly noticed that while she was telling her stories, she was already replacing some Tatar words with German ones. I also admired how naturally children move from rejection to acceptance of their new reality. At first, Alsu says she dreams of returning to where her toys are—and then, just as cheerfully, she starts dreaming of bringing those toys to Germany.

She finds solutions, adapts, becomes part of the world she landed in, begins speaking its language. Her flexibility and wisdom are inspiring—and at the same time heartbreaking.

Here in Berlin I see many children of Russian-speaking parents who still know Russian but already speak it worse than they do German. You begin to root for them to keep their mother tongue, to preserve themselves. At the same time, you realize global culture is one huge, rich, complex system—and it’s at the intersections, when we stay open instead of shutting down, that truly remarkable things are born. People who have gone through cultural assimilation become bridges and translators—those who can connect different worldviews and create deep dialogue and mutual understanding.

Ilya Baramia: Aigel works closely with language—it matters to her, and she watches it carefully. I grew up with my grandmother in Georgia and spoke Georgian better than Russian as a child, but then forgot it. Later, when I worked a lot with music publishers in the UK, I noticed I started thinking in English. And I went to a very intense physics-math high school—so the language of science, of math, is also very important to me.

I want my son to know English, since it’s the most universal language—the language of the internet, the emotional language of music, and the logical language of math. Which one he chooses to think and speak in doesn’t matter to me—what matters is that he feels comfortable, and I’ll always be able to communicate with him.

It was only after about the 20th time listening to that track that I started to hear where the Tatar switches into German—both languages are unfamiliar to me.

Your music has always blended different genres, but this album seems to push even further—K-pop, hard bass, dance music. What was the vision behind this sonic shift?

Aigel Gaisina: We really wanted to make a dance album. We wanted more music and fewer meanings. I always dream of making an album without words—though that probably doesn’t seem obvious, since paradoxically, the less I want to use lyrics, the longer my texts end up becoming.

Ilya Baramia: For me, it was important to keep things light—no brooding, no dragging or stickiness. I wanted it to pulse, to vibrate, to push forward. And yes, we wanted to play around with the most primitive forms and genres, because they don’t give you room to get stuck in your head.

Of course, in the end, it still turns into our own kind of interpretation.

You’ve both been living in different countries—Berlin and rural Montenegro. How has this physical and emotional distance influenced your songwriting and production?

Aigel Gaisina: I really love the Berlin techno scene — and, I moved here for that raw rave atmosphere. I think that spirit definitely made its way somehow into the album.

Ilya Baramia: We’ve always lived in different cities. Flying from Montenegro to Berlin actually takes less time than from Saint Petersburg to Kazan. Our working method hasn’t changed—it’s the same as always. And I don’t think it would change even if we lived next door to each other. For both of us, having solitude while working with material is crucial.

Since 2022, you’ve openly spoken against the war in Ukraine, which led to your performances being banned in Russia. How has this exile affected you both personally and creatively?

Aigel Gaisina: We knew it would happen, but we held out as long as we could because we wanted to keep playing shows in Russia and connecting with people inside the country. In every city we played, the audience was anti-war. In a country where public gatherings are banned, concerts became a space where people could look each other in the eye and realize they weren’t alone in their horror.

I also wanted to stay in Russia to be precise in my wording, to document what was happening. But the longer we stayed, the more suffocating it became—the pressure, the fear. I couldn’t write anything.

After we left, there was enormous relief. I remember the first night in Turkey, staying at a friend’s apartment—I lay down to sleep and it felt like a concrete slab had been lifted off me.

From then on, it was all about bureaucracy, looking for housing, adjusting to a new reality. There was no room for creativity, and I doubted I’d ever write again.

But while working on this album, we suddenly felt a surge of inspiration—it felt like we were fixed. And I think another album is already on the way.

Ilya Baramia: There’s nothing good about it. It feels like the country we lived in was thrown back a hundred years.

Despite feeling cosmopolitan inside, the reality was that I had lived in the same apartment for 50 years—I had never really moved. My son was born in the same hospital I was.

Moving wasn’t hard for me, and honestly, my current environment is better than before. But the delayed psychological response is still very present.

Oddly enough, music was affected the least. It turned out to be the most stable core.

AIGEL’s music often carries a strong social and political message, but it’s also deeply personal. Do you ever feel torn between those two sides, or are they naturally intertwined for you?

Aigel Gaisina: My speciality in university was political science, but I was never interested in activism or public life—I’m too much of an introvert for that. It’s hard for me. I existed parallel to the state.

The story of our band began when the state invaded my family and imprisoned the person I loved. That’s when the personal mixed with the political.

And the last few years in Russia have been a time of total fusion between the personal and the political. Many of my friends are in prison, their families scattered across the world. Some families broke apart because of political differences.

My child had to adapt to a new country—she was supposed to live in her own, next to family and friends. So now even the kid can’t separate the personal from the political.

Ilya Baramia: Again, this comes down to lyrics and meaning. I’ve worked with many writers and poets with radically different methods and beliefs.

When an artist creates honestly, reality seeps into the text, the meaning—it carries power. Aigel is an honest and talented poet. And she has a mesmerizing voice.

Together, we’re a strong and compelling duo.

Tracks like You Born and Pıyala have had massive global success. Do you ever feel pressure to top what you’ve done before, or is each project its own world?

Aigel Gaisina: We are completely fulfilled, happy, and self-sufficient in what we do. We’ve never done heavy promotion—each song that resonates with people finds its own organic path.

We don’t love those songs more than the others. We understand it’s a matter of luck—any one of our songs could’ve taken that place. We love all our songs, each one carries a part of our soul. So no—we don’t feel pressure to outdo ourselves.

Ilya Baramia: We’ve had enough hits already—we know how to handle them.

At first, overcoming the weight of a hit song is a challenge. When you’re asked to perform it five times in a row.

We’ve gone through that enough times that now, every new success just adds to and strengthens our live set.

Writing music is how we live.

And from our perspective, we don’t have bad songs. We’re ready to play any of them live—even all of them in a row.

Some songs are just harder to digest or more emotionally intense, while others are easier.

With Killer Qız out now, what’s next for AIGEL? Are there new sounds, collaborations, or ideas you’re excited to explore in the future?

Aigel Gaisina: We already have about half of album in Russian. That’s what we’ll be working on next.

Ilya Baramia: We’re not really into collaborations. We’ve built up enough of our own ideas—and that’s what we’re going to focus on.

As for how it will sound—that can’t really be put into words in advance. It’s electronic music—it takes shape as you work with it.

Revel, Revel is your debut album—what emotions and ideas were at the core of this project? Was there a specific moment when you knew it was time to create this record?

I had a few things that didn’t go my way personally in late 2023, and it provided the spark and focus necessary to commit to and complete the project from a writing perspective. I had songs floating around without a home and I resolved then to produce an album. The recording came very quickly with that determination.  

Many of your songs, like Raspberry Water and Canopies, were inspired by poems, books, and personal recordings. Can you share more about your songwriting process and how these influences shape your music?

I don’t have a set process. I try different methods. I always have dozens of riffs or chord progressions floating around on my phone, and notes and books full of poems or lyrics. Most of these are incomplete, much of it is rubbish – but there is also the odd interesting line. I write down phrases I read, hear, dream – everything. It rarely leads to the eventual theme of the song but sets me on a path I wouldn’t take if I sat down with a pencil and paper.  

Once I’ve accumulated lots of stuff or it’s time to write a body of work I spend a couple of days compiling everything. But that only gets me to stage 2 because much of what I have is incomplete – but it allows me to expand from there. I don’t really do anything quickly or efficiently! 

There’s an interesting mix of escapism, absurdity, and reality throughout the album. Were you aiming for a particular narrative or mood, or did these themes emerge naturally?

They just emerged, but probably reflect my nature and what I read and listen to, and my overall philosophy on life.

Wildcat takes a departure from your usual style into classic rock. What inspired this shift, and do you see yourself exploring more of this sound in the future?

‘Wildcat’ gives the record a lighter mood – and that was deliberate. I wanted something fun to contrast with other songs. I reckon a verse like “Oh you won’t break, strong like cognac, let’s drink to that” achieves it haha. The eventual mix rocked it up a bit and the guitar has a bluesier riff – but there are also other production elements consistent with the record. It fits into the overall theme of having multiple styles and is just one of those styles within the overall album. 

You worked with producer Robert Muinos, known for his bold mixing choices. How did his approach shape Revel, Revel, and what was the most unexpected or exciting part of the production process?

Rob took it to another level. He didn’t completely transform the original sounds but added the sparkle. His added flavours were all subtle – but brilliant and creative. For example, he’d run the vocals through a pedal in certain parts or focus in on a particular hi hat sound and make it wild.

It was all very exciting. Every song has some magic from a production perspective. A couple of favourite moments are Canopies – where a spare bass track was used it as a subtle background layer that gives the song a beautiful dimension. And Grenades – where the bass was re-tracked through an analogue octave pedal which inconsistently splutters all over the place and gives the song real power.  

The album combines electronic and analog elements, as heard in Raspberry Water. How do you balance these contrasting textures while maintaining a cohesive sound?

Everything was performed by me so I think that helps. It’s a good question but I think that balance is what makes this record different from other works. There are plenty of examples of that combination working in other records but perhaps not too much with some of the types of tracks here where most people would produce those layers with other analog elements – and I get that. But it gives these tunes a point of difference. 

Your project name has a fascinating origin—naming it after a general known for a surrender to Napoleon. What drew you to this name, and does it carry any deeper meaning for your music?

I wanted the name to stand out! I liked the ring of General Mack. He was also known as “the unfortunate General Mack” which would have been good too…perhaps for a future album. The grapeshot aspect was after the weapon which was a grouping of small iron balls shot from a cannon that resembled a bunch of grapes. The idea I had was that with many different styles on the album, it’s General Mack’s ‘grapeshot of tunes’ as if the grapeshot was like a shotgun release. A grapeshot is slightly different but I liked how it sounded anyway. 

You’ve played in bands in both Melbourne and LA, including Cannon and Damndogs. How has your experience in those scenes influenced your solo work?

I think everything I’ve done so far has in some way influenced my solo work. It’s one big adventure of discovery, learning, accidents, and fun.

With the album launch at The Fitzroy Pinnacle approaching, how do you plan to translate the album’s layered, cinematic sound into a live setting?

I have a really great band and we have a few tricks to help with that. Sometimes it will be layered and cinematic reflecting the album and other times it will be quite different. I’m not looking to replicate everything precisely. Playing live needs to have an energy and a connection to the audience – that’s the main focus.

Now that Revel, Revel is out in the world, what’s next for General Mack’s Grapeshot? Do you already have ideas for your next project, or are you focusing on performing and seeing how this record resonates first?

For now, I look forward to performing the record. I’ve been quite moved by the feedback I’ve received from people who have bought the album from all over the world. So that’s really encouraging. 

Moving forward, I have a new album close to being written, which is exciting, and I’m already planning for the recording of that later this year. So hopefully lots more to come for GMG!   

General Mack’s Grapeshot Revel, Revel Launch Show: 

Saturday 12 April 

The Fitzroy Pinnacle, VIC 

Supports: Tallulah Grace & Wild Dog Mountains
Tickets via Oztix