To celebrate the release of their latest album Circumnavigating Georgia, Sans Soucis discusses their origins as an artist, expressing their truth through music and their Palo Santo and gel pen-fuelled writing process.

Performing as Sans Soucis, Italo-Congolese musician Guilia Grispino creates melodic, fluid music infused with intimacy and vulnerability. On their latest album, Circumnavigating Georgia, they soundtrack their own coming-of-age — beginning and ending at their grandparents’ house in Italy and exploring themes of self-growth, familial histories and lived experiences via a collection of 12 danceable, bilingual songs.  

Below, we catch up with the artist to explore their development so far as an artist and  what this latest body of work means to them. 

Hi! How long have you been making music for and how was your sound evolved?

I’ve been making music since 2016. That’s the year I started writing my own songs, in my room, with my guitar and a scrappy recording set up. It’s always been a very intimate and therapeutic experience to me.

At the very beginning of my writing and production journey, I would rely a lot on my guitar compositions and vocal arrangements, definitely my first love, because that was what I could technically do and I wanted to honour my learning path.

I organically bought more gear in order to be able to incorporate diverse production elements into my canvases. Getting music libraries from other producers, collaborating with people and finally moving into my own studio, shared with some of my closest friends (a source of huge inspiration) is something I look at with immense gratitude and pride.

I always had quite an eclectic taste. I remember being mind blown by the acid punk sounds of Tame Impala, feeling nostalgic of noughties RnB and Italian classic songwriters, loving orchestration by Henry Mancini, and being drawn to electronic leaning music from Little Dragon, as well as genre-defying artists such as Solange, Kendrick Lamar, Rosalia, whose voice moves me to the core. I also adore introspective, carefully crafted songwriting, that as soon as you feel comfortable enough, it breaks a rule or two. Joni Mitchel is surely a master in this art.

I guess right now my sound is still in constant evolution. I try to learn things I love. In life I really struggle with understanding my emotions, so I associate certain music, genres and songs to specific emotions, moods and memories.  That’s how I’ve decided to produce Circumnavigating Georgia.

How do you approach crafting lyrics?

Lyrics are really important for me, and normally inform the production of a song. I try to write a song almost entirely before I commit to any kind of production.

I like to get to the bottom of things and one of the aspects I love the most about writing lyrics is that it allows me to hone a language that I’m not always able to carve out in life. I get to spend time thinking about feelings and experiences for long enough to be able to understand them and vocalise them with my own words, which I think it is something very difficult to achieve within the constraints of the society I live in.

When I write lyrics, I always have my notepad with me. I love writing on a piece of paper with a gel pen, and having some Palo Santo around. Alternatively, I probably just play guitar and start recording what I do with my phone, while I frantically transcribe words.

How does your identity inform your music?

I guess my identity is the reason why I decided to do music. Being Black and queer is something I struggled to accept my whole life.

I wasn’t born thinking I was any different from anyone else, but the world taught me that in fact, the agenda to marginalise groups of people that resonate with this experience is rooted in the history of this part of the world and it affected me in ways I wasn’t able to uncover up until recently.

My music is now the way I build a world in which I can exist and I can express my truth without fear. It is a process, which means I need to be patient and kind to myself, but it allowed me to feel more liberated and decolonised when I don’t wear my artist hat.

What does your latest body of work represent to you?

It was such a transformative experience for me. I call it my “erotic teacher”, to quote one of my biggest inspirations, Audre Lorde.

Circumnavigating Georgia represents acceptance, compassion, exploration, and gratefulness to the life I lived for a long time. A life that was a mix between the seed of who I am and a shield I had to build to protect myself from the harm of a patriarchal and systemically racist society.

Doing something that sits within the genre of pop/alt-pop, it also challenged the idea of pop stardom as the pinnacle of the mainstream music industry. What does it really mean?

This album destroyed some of the thickest survival mechanisms I held onto, but made space for real joy and a more grounding way to live life, as well as more awareness of the world around me and what I can do to be of service to my community. It will forever be a loving letter to the memory of that human being that survived.

What’s next for you?

I’m trying to enjoy this new phase of my life and I’m curious about where it will lead me personally and professionally. I’m also very excited to finally tour this album.

‘Circumnavigating Georgia’ is out now via Decca Records. Check out Sans Soucis’ tour dates here and support them on Bandcamp here.

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We catch up with the multi-hyphenate musician about Brat summer, the queerest Olympics ceremony ever, and formative clubbing moments in the NYC underground.

IMAGES BY CARLOS MARTI

In a rare moment of respire during her hectic schedule, GAY TIMES caught up with Caillet to discuss her diverse creative practice, the gayest Olympics opening ceremony of all time (in our opinion), and bringing self-expression back to the rave.

Hi, how are you? Tell us how your day is going so far!

My day’s going good. I’m at home in Ibiza. I’m getting ready to get back out on tour this weekend.

Do you have a favourite music-related memory?

My parents divorced when I was really young, so I used to spend weekends with my dad. And music was really what brought us together. When I went over to his apartment, we would just sit there listening to music. He would take me in his arms, especially to ‘School’ by Supertramp. Whenever it came on, he would take me in his arms. We’d run around the room just singing and dancing along to that song.

How has queer community and the LGBTQIA+ club scene shaped your experiences as a musician?

It’s been a big part of who I am today. If I hadn’t grown up in the queer community in New York City, things would be very different today for me. The queer community took me in when I was a young raver, and made me feel so safe, like I had a place in this world. The music that we were hearing in clubs was so inspiring.

What’s a favourite project or track you’ve worked on and why?

I think my EP Intro was definitely one of my favourite but also most challenging projects that I’ve worked on to date. It was at the very beginning when I was trying to create my musical identity, most of it was created during the pandemic, which was a very weird time for me. There was a lot of uncertainty, and on top of that, there were a lot of moments when I didn’t know what I wanted to put out there.

Who would be your dream artist to remix?

I’ve always dreamed of collaborating with a pop icon. I feel like making a track with Rosalía or even Madonna would be so iconic. I’m definitely not over my mission of getting there one day.

Finally, we have to ask, are the Olympics giving Brat summer?

The opening ceremony was definitely giving Brat Summer, definitely with the Celine Dion performance and all of the queer performances that they incorporated. I can’t wait to see what the closing ceremony has in store, I might even have a special surprise for you.

Follow Chloé on Instagram.

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The Sydney-based artist on his ethereal new pop single ‘Shooting Star’ and his rise as a next-wave Aussie musician.

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH

We’re in the middle of summer and we’re all still feeling the rush from Troye Sivan’s third studio album Something to Give Each Other, a hot sticky boy pop record that’s never left our playlists. A year later, Sivan’s mega camp moment has stuck around in our queer orbit. Now, the artist has used his platform to bring attention to a new Aussie star that everyone needs to know about – Nick Ward.

Based in Sydney, Ward has writing credits on Sivan’s latest full-length project and, more recently, announced his highly anticipated debut album, House With The Blue Door, a project which follows Wards’ two previous EPs. The upcoming release explores themes including childhood, family, religion, trauma, growing up queer. Ahead of the project coming out, the singer-songwriter released ‘Shooting Star’ — a heartfelt track exploring what it means to have self-confidence and self-worth, notably crediting his mother for her unwavering support to him. 

So, as Ward sets up for the milestone release of his first record, GAY TIMES sat down with the musician to hear more about his creative process, the queer artists on his radar and more.

Hey Nick! How are you – what have you’ve been up to today?

I’ve actually been at home sick for the couple days. I haven’t left my bed this morning.

We love your singles ‘Shooting Star’ and ‘Gimme’. How did those songs come about?

Thank you! Both those songs came together really quickly. The songs that you get the most excited about usually come together that way. I made ‘Gimme’ with my friend Gab Strum and Shooting Star with my friends FRIDAY* and SOLLYY. I think they both came together in an afternoon. I don’t think anyone was seated while making either of those songs.

Brand New You came out in 2022, how have you grown as a musician since then?

I’ve learned so much since. I don’t really listen to stuff once it’s been released, but on the occasion where I hear any of those old songs – I really hear the path towards this new album. Over the course of those EPs I became a lot more confident in myself as an artist. I think confidence is the only thing that will actually make a difference to your music. It doesn’t matter if you get better gear or learn the guitar better if you don’t feel like you can take a big swing. I’ve also learned a lot about structuring music and ‘pop’ as a format rather than a sound.

For your Brand New You EP you described feeling like you were “cut in two”. What’s the driving emotion/feeling behind your new project?

Without giving away too much, the new project is about DNA and family, and the memories from childhood that stay with us when we get older. Even though it feels very hyper-specific to my life, I think a lot of people my age will relate to the feeling of coming to terms with your own childhood. 

Over the recent year, which musicians have you been taking inspiration from and why?

To be honest, I don’t really listen to much new music. I keep tabs on some things but I mostly just listen to stuff from the past. From the things I’ve been keeping up to date with, I really love the new Porches tracks. Each of his records have a really distinct palette, so it’s been interesting hearing where he’s taken this new record. I think Bickle’s also constantly fresh and exciting. Nilüfer Yanya is awesome. Panda Bear is one of my favourite artists ever. My favourite album of the year is the Vampire Weekend record I think. I’m just rattling off names now. I guess the truest answer would be my friends in Sydney who I make music with.  

Queer & Now is about spotlighting rising stars in the LGBTQIA+ community. Who has been on your radar?

For a very long time, I’ve believed that Dylan Atlantis will change many people’s lives. 

Can you give us some insight into how you create music –what does your process look like?

I have a studio in my old bedroom where I make all my music. I often start a writing day by working on my Eurorack synth or chopping samples – the feeling of reacting or working against something is a lot more inspiring than a blank slate. I have a sample library I’ve been building for a few years that comes in handy when I’m working remotely. I’m usually making instrumental music 80% of the time.

What would your dream collaboration look like?

I’m not sure. There are a few heroes that I’d love to work with but whether or not we’d be compatible as collaborators is another story. I’m doing a lot more traveling this year so I’m excited to be meeting more people.

 What’s a surprising fact most listeners wouldn’t expect to know about you?

That I can’t drive and probably won’t learn. To be honest, that’s probably not a surprise.

Lastly, we can’t wait to hear what you’ve got coming next. What are your big music plans?

We’re doing our first-ever UK and Europe shows in August, which I’m stoked about. I have a lot more music in the vault that I’m excited to share. Other than that…you’ll just have to wait and see.

Nick Wards’ debut album House With The Blue Door is out on 4 October. 

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Following the release of their new EP Big Leap, No Faith, Small Chancer, we spoke to the brother-sister act about star signs, not fitting in and bearing their souls on TikTok.  

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH

A side-by-side duo, Esme Emerson’s sibling rapport is joyfully infectious; on-screen, over Zoom, they joke with each other and build out each other’s ideas. The Lee-Scott pair are calling from Suffolk where they live or, as they say: “It’s where Ed Sheeran’s from, it’s where sheep are from”. As for their music, it matches their thoughtful, creative energy.

On their latest EP, the family act explores everything from the complicated feelings of love to appealing to your queer inner child. So, as they’re excitedly experimenting with sound, Big Leap, No Faith, Small Chancer comes together as a statement project – an amalgamation of new sounds, trialled, tested and mutually agreed upon. Esme Emerson doesn’t release anything they haven’t both signed off, and it’s a bond that keeps them both in step with one another.  

Family acts aren’t anything new, we’ve all heard of Oasis, Haim and The Jacksons, but Esme Emerson’s magnetism comes down to their own chemistry; a relationship of trust and subversive indie pop. Now, following their consecutive UK tour dates with The Japanese House and releasing their debut project with Communion Records, Esme Emerson spoke to GAY TIMES about going on tour, experiencing racism in rural England and their big band ambitions. 

How has your sibling relationship affected your creative dynamic with one another? 

Esme: We’re best friends and when we’re writing music, especially, we’ve realised we don’t really have to talk – it’s kind of telepathic. 

Emerson: It feels like we share a brain, which is great. I don’t think we’ve had any issues.

It’s almost spiritual alignment then…

Esme: Let’s talk about astrology, this is a queer, let’s talk about astrology. Emerson’s partner has this book and it compares every birth week with every birth week ever and it talks about the compatibility of every birth week. So it showed that ours was the best one for siblings and the worst one was for coworkers. It’s because we’re siblings, we’re able to be completely ourselves with each other. It was so easy to make this work.  

Emerson: It’s sibling brain! We share a musical, similar headspace so it feels good. 

You’ve recently toured with The Japanese House who has a truly dedicated indie-pop queer following. Meanwhile, your following has been landing incredibly online, especially with TikTok, where you almost have 10k followers. Has the platform helped you reach your audience in the way you expected? 

Emerson: Good question. TikTok’s a really interesting one, and I think we’ve been really lucky to reach an audience who occupy a lot of minority spaces, whether that be sort of gender identity or race. I think that’s important as those two things are really important for us as well.

Esme: It’s nice to feel a reflection of yourself in your audience. It’s important for everyone to feel safe.

Emerson: I feel very fortunate to have built the community so far that we have. We grew up in the countryside. It’s quite white and conservative, so I think we’ve gone through life not necessarily in the safest of spaces. 

We’ve grown up in Suffolk and, now, we’re regularly in and out of London and around communities where we feel more welcome and represented, there’s a certain level of that that I think we carry with us. 

Esme: We went to this small high school where there was a lot of racism. My friendship group was largely queer but the intersectionality of my identities didn’t allow me to feel as safe being both queer, as someone who’s Asian. So, it was weird growing up. I feel like we’ve made a lot of friends now who have similar upbringings and we get to campfire story share.

We have to talk about ‘Truck Song’, I can’t get enough of it. How did you conceptualise that song? 

Emerson: We’d just come out of our first EP and we were looking to make something that fit the vibe of what we were listening to a little bit more, something more upbeat. 

Esme: It’s interesting because the song is about trying to convince someone that you are enough and, during the song writing process, we found ourselves trying to make it as joyous and fun as possible – almost desperately so. Ultimately, the meaning of this song manifested itself in the efforts taken to make it joyous, fun and good enough!

Emerson: ‘Truck Song’ is a funny one because of its title but it’s coming from a place of belonging but then also just being in love and trying to make something that felt really joyous. 

How did the rest of the EP come together?

Esme: ‘Please’ was first, and then it was Truck and then ‘Afraid Of Losing’. ‘Please’ went through maybe seven versions of itself and I think that was us pulling that at the end of really worrying about what other people wanted to hear rather than what we like. I honestly think that’s why we re-wrote it so many times.  

Emerson: It was learning that we didn’t have to make the perfect thing on the first try which is something that I have felt a lot. But, with ‘Please’ I think we allowed ourselves a little more grace. 

Esme: Again, to fit with the concept of the EP, it’s part of the trials and tribulations of young queer love, which felt fitting.

How did you let go of needing this EP to feel like the perfect project? 

Emerson: I do feel like there’s a pressure to be perfect and not make a mistake. I feel it, especially on social media. I think it allows anybody to be critical of whatever you’re doing. It’s so easy to access artists and their souls. I feel we’re baring our souls on TikTok, which feels really silly, but it’s like you kind of have to at some point. Then, it feels easy for people on there to be like “I don’t like this.”. 

It’s more to prove myself but, in the end with music, we have tried to lean into imperfections. I think that’s what makes the music kind of special, well to me at least. Sometimes I need to get myself out of the “it needs to be perfect” headspace, and instead just say I’m just going to make something.

What’s next for Es and Em? 

Esme: Back into writing more music, we’re unstoppable! We always joke that we’re going to be in our 70s and still writing our songs.

Emerson: I’m excited to make our full first record and we’re working our way there, that feels really exciting. I love making EPs, but there’s something interesting and exciting about the idea of being more thoughtful about a whole body of work, with the track listing and the themes. And, then, I want to tour with the full band.

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From Chappell Roan and Angie McMahon to Ray Laurèl and daine, these are our picks of essential artists for next year.

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH
HEADER DESIGN BY YOSEF PHELAN

There’s nothing like finding a fave new artist to freak out over. So, we’ve drummed up this mix of music newbies and essential rising acts to get some fresh talent your way. Whether you’re plotting the playlist for your next rager or just looking to soak up a new sound, we’ve got you covered. Here’s our nod to 10 LGBTQIA+ artists that you need to check out. 

Angie McMahon

Melbourne musician Angie McMahon is the perfect balm for a bad day. On her second album, Light, Dark, Light Again, she reminds us to find solace in ourselves and the silence around us. Her quietly powerful songs land like gentle affirmations, pulling you out of the fog and into something clearer, more promising. Percussive breathing, sounds of splattering rain, and an anxious determination rumble through McMahon’s work, roping us carefully into her connection with nature. With her profile only set to rise, McMahon won’t be Australia’s best-kept secret for much longer.

Chappell Roan 

“Can you play a song with a fucking beat?” an exasperated voice calls out during Roan’s zany opener, ‘Femininomenon’. Sure enough, prayers are answered as a sledgehammer beat hits the track; this is exactly what Roan’s exuberant pop style feels like — anthemic and joyfully disruptive. On her debut album, The Rise And Fall Of A Midwest Princess, Roan sets herself up as a bold new queer superstar. And if you need any more convincing on giving her a listen, well, give the cinematic disco-pop tune ‘Naked In Manhatten’ a listen and thank us later.

daine

When it comes to Filipino-Australian artist daine, two things come to mind: Brain-battered hyperpop and emo-stamped lyrics – and nobody does it better. If you’ve not given them a listen before then their new EP, Shapeless, is the place to start. A jigsawed mix of thumping baselines and moody breakdowns with upfront lyrics — on body dysmorphia, sullying friendship and, of course, boythots — feel more like confided secrets rather than party-ready tracks ready to blow out your favourite pair of speakers. In a post-genre age, daine continues to prove you can make music whatever the hell you want.

Fred Roberts 

Get ready for the arrival of Fred Roberts, a new British singer-songwriter who pools his emotions into deep, cutting tracks. In his breakthrough single, ‘Runaway,’ a brutally honest guitar-led debut, the singer-songwriter captivates, leaving you hanging on his every word. His twinkling new release ‘Disguise’ feels like watching a heartbreak scene in real-time, it’s painful and well worth the listen.  

Gigi Perez

Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter Gigi Perez is quickly making her presence known. Her incredible 2023 EP, How To Catch A Falling Knife, bends alternative sounds and dark storytelling into suffocatingly tense tracks. Perez’s eerie vocals, at times, outstay their welcome like haunting flashbacks of a nightmare. Having toured with Haim and Noah Cyrus, it’s only a matter of time before Perez breaks into the indie-emo mainstream.

Mad Tsai

American artist Jonathan Tsai, aka Mad Tsai, is imagining a queer synth-pop world for Asian and Latinx bisexual boys. In his track ‘stacy’s brother’, the singer flirts with the idea of hooking up with his best friend’s sibling, dreaming up an all-out queer teen scenario. And, that narrative-flipped Fountains of Way classic is exactly what put him in the TikTok limelight. Now with over 1.5 million monthly listeners on Spotify, Tsai has proved he and his broody pop tracks aren’t going anywhere. 

Ray Laurél

Ray Laurél’s alternative slow jam mixes are hypnotic. Breezy, skipping beats swirl around full-bodied vocals as the singer distils feelings of love and longing into glittering R&B-tinged tracks. Whether it’s his silky-smooth cadence or soulful delivery, the 21-year-old will have you falling for his mellow, moreish sound.

Sammy Copley

A self-proclaimed ‘Paul Simon wannabe,’ Sammy Copley’s tender, stylised singing (and songwriting) marks the indie-folk Dublin act as one to watch. Their fine-tuned 2022 EP, Little Box, showcases their knack for pulling off simmering, soft-touch songs, like ‘To The Bone,’ that feels like a crushing break-up hug goodbye. So, if your Phoebe Bridgers playlist isn’t quite cutting it, Copley is a perfect alternative for your sad music fix.

Talia Goddess

Brooklyn-born Talia, aka Tayahna Walcott, is a music alchemist mixing Caribbean and American influences in her futuristic soundscape. If she’s not on your radar, she should be. The 21-year-old’s latest EP, Down 2 Earth, ties dancehall, trap, and R&B sounds into an ambitious, statement-making project. If you’re wondering where to begin, ‘I WANT U’ and ‘EVERYBODY LOVES A WINNER’ are standouts.

Véyah

She’s had the seal of approval from Sean Paul, TikTok and now she’s ready to make her entrance – introducing Véyah. Born in Hyderabad, India and now based in New York, the rising first made her name in viral Hindi covers but, now, she’s shaping up as a rising South Asian with her own tunes. If you haven’t heard ‘Better Than The Boys’ already, then you’re truly missing out. The teen’s track offers a fresh take on subjects – sex and sexuality – often shamed in South Asian communities in her unapologetic R&B-inspired release. And with new music already on the way, it’s only a matter of time until Véyah becomes the new music it girl.

Check out our regularly-updated Queer & Now playlist spotlighting our favourite LGBTQIA+ artists below.

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The DIY band’s lead singer Ishmael Kirby discusses Dream Nail’s full-throttle political punk album Doom Loop and swapping cabaret gigs for playing concerts.  

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH

Dream Nails are making music exactly the way they want to. It’s loud, raw and ready to pick a fight. First founded in 2015, the London-based band looked (and sounded) quite different. Known for their witchy punk attitude, the group released their debut EP DIY in 2016 and snagged a slot on Glastonbury’s first women-only stage, Sisterhood. Soon after, the band’s self-titled album arrived in 2020, via Alcopop! Records, setting them on track to become promising newcomers on the UK’s punk scene. 

Now, almost three years since their first album, the reinvented British four-piece – Ishmael Kirby (lead singer), Anya Pearson (guitarist), Lucy Katz (drummer) and Mimi Jasson (bassist) – have returned. The revamped collective have swapped out their former witchy feminist image, and a few members, for a whole new era. The onboarding of lead vocalist Ishmael Kirby, known for their performances as drag king Cyro at Shakespear’s Globe and Royal Vauxhall Tavern, has amped up the band’s reimagined style.   

On their new album, Doop Loop, Dream Nails get straight to the point. In ‘Good Guys’ Kirby’s blown-out vocals call out incel culture against rhythmic drums. Elsewhere, the band charge ahead with shouty tunes about “sweet revenge” and embracing the mundane joys of trashy TV and sticky plastic ball pits. It’s an evolution earlier fans might not have expected, but it’s one that works. As the band continue their UK/EU tour, we catch up with Kirby to hear more about the brand’s riotous new album and why Dream Nails’ reintroduction is worth taking note of. 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Hey Ishmael! The album is out and you’re touring. How are you feeling about the response to it?

Oh man, I’m so excited for people to hear our music. I’m nervous about how it’s going to be received on a mainstream platform. I wonder if we’re going to be seen by the people that we want to be seen by or if we’re going to be censored. I don’t know this industry as well as I know cabaret and drag – I’m a bit terrified! 

This is your first project with Dream Nails as the new lead singer. How have you navigated the transition from cabaret and drag to the music industry?

Therapy. My Brown non-binary therapist is like a big one. The cabaret and drag world prepares you for a different kind of barrage of hate and you deal with it in a very different way. Whereas, in the music industry, when a song about transmasc euphoria gets blanket-banned, you’re completely helpless. In the music industry, it still feels like it’s fifty years behind. I have to be a palatable version of Black, Brown, Asian, and fat just to get that song through the door. 

How has Dream Nails been inspired by the sound and history of UK punk?

When I think about what punk feels like in British punk history, they had something to push against. Punk, for me, in the last 10 or 20 years, hasn’t felt like it has that much to push against. Funny enough, even though it feels like we’re flipping the script on what punk represents, we’re really traditional. The music we make is pushing against what mainstream music is.

Do you feel like punk and its new image have changed?

Oh, God, yeah. I do not understand how you can say you’re a punk without being political. Punk is political, and it doesn’t just go through music. It runs through everything like the veins of culture and fashion. [Dream Nails] like flipping the script of what punk looks like. I think that feeling of traditional punkness is us and that’s why I’m so excited to do live concerts and for people to listen to the album.

How has Dream Nails taken the ethos of punk and applied it to shows and new music? 

I understand that being in this role in Dream Nails holds a lot of responsibilities. If I’m going to do it, I’ve got to do it right and making sure I feel safe in those spaces is one of those things. I’m very good at writing stuff and creating music that connects with people on a wider identity scale and I’m really grateful that I can do that. But, then, embodying it in that [concert] space and making sure people are accountable  – and that you are accountable for what is acceptable or not – is a different thing.

Joining Dream Nails has given you a platform to speak out and lend a queer, Black lens to punk music. How have you felt since becoming part of the band? 

There are many intense feelings! On one side I know I’m needed in the band and I’m connecting with transmasc people and Black people. This is the first [Dream Nails] album my voice has been on and I think we’ve genuinely created a good album. There’s the question of whether I’m disappointing a big fan group of Dream Nails. There’s a big fear that the band is going to be judged because of [our change]. If people don’t like the music, that’s fine. If people don’t like the music because of my identity, that worries me. 

Your single ‘Ballpit’ is one of the band’s most streamed songs. What inspired it? 

‘Ballpit’ came about because we were in Liverpool. I had just joined the band and it was the first tour. We had some really bad spaces where we were staying and it was pre-COVID times and not many people were around. We had a terrible gig, where everyone, the entire audience, left after the support band left. It was one of those nights where we ended up questioning what we were doing as a band. We all sat outside on the curb, at midnight, and Anya saw this sign that said “Balls Deep”. It was a ball pit underground somewhere and Anya convinced us to go. We went, looking like punks, to this adult-size ball pit with these sticky balls and had the best time. We just spent like an hour throwing balls at each other. It inspired us to write a song about doing something that we just wanted to do. 

Outside of crashing a ball pit venue at midnight, what’s been a favourite shared memory of you and the band?

There’ve been some crazy incredible music moments where you’re all dripping with sweat and the crowd is jumping at the same time. You’re looking around at the band and you’re all in slow motion which is so cool. A mosh pit, too, is the ultimate moment! 

You’ve got a new album out and you’re on a big tour. What’s the next big ambition for Dream Nails? 

I would love for Doom Loop to be listened to by as many people as possible because I think it’s a very nuanced album. It feels like an album for the bangers, especially if you’re a rock-punk person! If you’re a person who is interested in things outside of the box or trying to find something new, Doom Loop is going to offer something that you haven’t heard before and that’s really exciting. Everyone needs release at the moment and Doom Loop and Dream Nails can offer that. 

Following that, the basic goal is to play more live gigs in bigger spaces. I hope we get the same opportunities as our white, cis, straight counterparts bands do. For me, a Mercury nomination would be top-tier stuff. 

Dream Nails’ new album, Doom Loop, is out now via Marshall Records. 

The post Dream Nails are flipping the script of what punk looks like appeared first on GAY TIMES.

The Canadian artist talks queer rage, her new single ‘Sorry Brody’ and dropping out of college to pursue pop stardom.

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH

It’s been quite the morning for Jenna Doe. We meet in Whitechapel, outside a nearby fashion university building, as the 23-year-old slides her phone into her pocket, slightly sheepish, having gotten lost. London, for Doe, isn’t her usual stomping ground. But, for the last few weeks, she’s traded the business of Toronto for her first time visiting the UK’s capital. Here recording new music, the artist has been making the most of being overseas. “I did my last session yesterday and I’ve come out with so many songs that I’m super excited about,” she says pulling a star-printed beanie over her head. “Today is my last day in London so I got to sleep in, eat a good London breakfast and, then, came here!” 

There’s a good chance the alt-rock jangle of Doe’s music will feel familiar, at least from TikTok. Whether it’s her queer detention fantasy ‘Pink Slips’ (“You write me love letters, while she gets pink slips”) or the twanging guitar backing the body horror lyrics of ‘Shapeshift’, Doe’s made a craft of pocketing viral hits. The singer-songwriter recently ditched her days at Berklee College of Music to pursue her fast-rising music career. “Everything was happening so fast. I would get all these opportunities that I had to turn down because my management didn’t want to take away from my college experience,” she says. As we move indoors, Doe reflects on her choice to commit to her music career over studying music at school; “I decided to really go for it and take this risk. It’s been worth it because now I’ve been able to dedicate all my time to working towards my goal of being a pop star.”

Making her name on TikTok, Doe has created the blueprint of dark-humoured coming-of-age tracks that capture the queer experience. And her new single ‘Sorry Brody’ is no different; a soft-rock tune about stealing her friend’s ex-girlfriend. Classic. So, with new music on the way, we caught up with Doe for our latest instalment of Queer & Now to chat about her online breakthrough and writing unfiltered queer rock hits. 

Jenna, welcome to London! What brought you here? 

I decided to fly out to London to have a week in the studio to write and record my next project. I’ve never been outside of North America before so it was the perfect opportunity to explore the city and meet other UK-based musicians which has been super fun.

‘Sorry Brody’, your new single, is out now – what can you tell us about it? 

‘Sorry Brody’ is definitely one of my favourite songs I’ve written. This song seemed to write itself as it was about such an unbelievable story. It’s all completely authentic and how could I not write an anthemic queer banger about stealing my friend’s ex-girlfriend? I wanted ‘Sorry Brody’ to be the first single that I released in this new era to foreshadow the vibe of the forthcoming EP. My goal is to create high-quality music that is also unapologetically queer – and without making it seem like a big deal! At the end of the day, love is dramatic, complex and, let’s face it, fun! My latest single ‘Sorry Brody’ encompasses exactly this. If you want a song that is slightly controversial and toxic yet heartwarming and touching, I wrote an extremely catchy pop-rock queer banger for you! 

What can you tell us about your current music plans?

It’s so surreal. I always knew I was going to be a musician. There was never a moment where I actively decided to do music. My mum has always told me that I was singing before I could talk. For most of my life, it was a dream, something I was working towards. Now that it actually has happened, it’s a mixture of ‘I can’t believe this is happening’ and realising my hard work has paid off. It wasn’t an overnight success, I have been working at it for so long. It’s really exciting to have these opportunities and to be excited about the things that are gonna happen next.

I have this horrible problem. I get bored with stability, or with what is expected. I want something a little dangerous

You made your name on TikTok after going regularly going viral. How has having that audience affected your music career? 

It has changed my life. It’s made it possible for someone like me to get recognised. I come from a suburb in Canada where I had no music connections and nobody in my hometown was doing music. I didn’t know anybody else with a dream as big as mine. I didn’t know where to start. Posting the music, where anybody could listen, changed my life and gave me a platform for people to find me as an underground queer artist. 

Who are your biggest LGBTQIA+ music inspirations and why?

My two favourite queer artists are Chloe Moriondo and Conan Gray. I also really love Troye Sivan. I don’t think Conan Gray has ever really talked about queerness, but I love his music so much. I watched his YouTube videos when I was around fifteen. I didn’t know he was gonna be a big pop star. To me, he was my little YouTuber and I watched him and the trajectories of our lives somewhat align. Kid Krow is still one of my all-time favourite albums. 

How do you think you’ve grown as a writer and an artist since your experimental ‘Bedbugs’ era? 

Oh my god, what a throwback! I’ve grown so much. Back then, I was writing on my guitar in my bedroom. I used ‘Bedbugs’ in my audition for Berklee. I was still there when my music was blowing up on TikTok and then I wrote and recorded ‘Pink Slips’. Ever since dropping out of school, I started doing real recording and writing sessions in different cities. In the summer I dropped out and stayed in LA, where I was making lots of music, spending every single day in the studio. I was going through the biggest learning period of my life. Now I can write a song in a day and have my songwriting style to a science. I’ve grown so much as a songwriter because now I know how I like to craft my hooks and lyrics. 

‘Pink Slips’ was your breakout song. Where did the idea for that track come from? 

I have this horrible problem. I get bored with stability, or with what is expected. I want something a little dangerous. I was seeing this girl a few years ago who was, on paper, the perfect girlfriend. She would send me flowers, write me extravagant love letters, buy me gifts, constantly validate me and call me pretty. I’m like, ‘I should like this! I know that this is what is expected of a girlfriend.’ I got bored because there was no risk in it. I know it’s probably not a good thing because it just leads to pain, but I ended up having a crush on this other girl who was the extreme opposite – you want what you can’t have. I can’t say it’s healthy but it is more entertaining.

I listen to straight music and I still like it. I want people of all sexualities to like my music

‘Shapeshift’ has become another major release for you… 

I love Chloe Moriondo and their album Blood Bunny inspired that song. I have so much internal queer rage. I listened to it and relate to it so much. I interpreted it as their feeling this rage towards straight men who sexualised them and her girlfriend. The way that lesbian and sapphic people are perceived, through a sexualised straight male gaze, is so frustrating. I love that song so much because I experience the same rage and emotion Chloe expresses.

What’s your favourite music memory?

I grew up playing really small venues and I just started playing proper shows. Live music has always been my favourite part of music. It was the most magical experience to be on the stage singing my songs. That has to be my favourite memory. I’m dying to actually tour one day and meet fans every single night.

You’ve got new music on the way. How’s the new music coming along?

It’s so exciting! I’m working on very queer, super fun, upbeat pop songs with some grit and rock to it. I don’t think I’ll ever outgrow the angsty, pop-punky Avril Lavigne feel of a gritty guitar and angsty vocals. But, I can say I wrote every single song on my own. Obviously, Ross has done the instrumentation, but I feel like this is 100% me. What you get in this next EP is the most authentic side of me, so I’m really excited for everyone to hear it

You’ve been outspoken about wanting outright queer songs…

Queer people don’t deserve a ‘nudge, nudge, this could be queer’ song. I want to be represented in the way straight people have been. It’s not a secret message. I want good pop music for queer people on the radio. The thing is, I listen to straight music and I still like it. I want people of all sexualities to like my music.

Jenna Doe’s new single ‘Sorry Brody’ is out now. 

The post Jenna Doe is here to steal your girlfriend appeared first on GAY TIMES.

The breakout American artist on being inspired by drag, flipping the Christian culture, and new music.

WORDS BY JOSH OSMAN 
PHOTOGRAPHY BY RYAN CLEMENS

The last year has seen the rise of Chappell Roan (real name Kayleigh Rose Amstutz): queer pop’s pageant queen. After a staggered rollout, the rising pop princess is about to release her debut album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess. Off the back of hit singles ‘Pink Pony Club’ and ‘Naked in Manhattan’, she sold out her first London headline show and is expecting to sell out her upcoming North American tour.

Roan’s journey to stardom has been a rough ride. Raised in Missouri, the singer found herself both boxed in by and ostracised from a conservative Christian culture that inhibited her ability to express herself as a woman in the way she wanted. Her first full-length project sees her boldly embrace her queerness and wholly overthrow the confines of Midwestern womanhood. It’s a fourteen-track powerhouse of thumping, club-ready anthems that seem at the same time entirely characteristic of and antithetical to her theatrical, extravagant image.

Moving to LA changed the 25-year-old’s life, enabling her to both express and embody unbridled queer joy, which simply wasn’t possible at home. Now, just before The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess is unleashed into the world, Kayleigh Rose Amstutz is more ready than ever before to bring the bedazzled spectacle of ‘Chappell Roan’ to a new height and greater audience. 

For the newest instalment of our new music editorial series Queer & Now, we hung out with Roan over Zoom to chat about her debut album, being inspired by drag, and flipping the Christian culture of her upbringing on its head.

Hey Chappell! How’s it going? What’s keeping you busy?

I just got back from summer camp, where I’m a counsellor. I’ve been one for eight years. It’s getting to the point where I can’t go to all of the camp, but I teach songwriting there. That’s what I was doing the past couple of weeks. We’ve had a lot of really big career moments the past couple of weeks too!

How’s the rollout for your debut album going?

It’s crazy, it feels surreal. I’m trying to take in every moment – you only have your debut album one time. So far, the response is really good, better than we expected. It’s very affirming. It’s been a trek to get there, this album is four years in the making.

How did you get into music and what made you want to be an artist?

I got into music when I was 14 or 15. I started writing because it was the best way to channel my despair as a teenager. Then it just catapulted into being signed when I turned 17. It was a very, very quick process at the beginning and then it was slow for like, five years. Now it’s fast again!

What kind of music did you listen to growing up?

I was really inspired by Ellie Goulding. I listened to her every day. ‘Stay’ by Rihanna was the catalyst of my writing. I just wanted to write a song like ‘Stay’. That was the first thing I can remember, but I grew up on Christian rock because I grew up in a Christian household.

The ‘popstar’ image is a big part of the ‘Chappell Roan’ persona now. Has it always been?

It is now but wasn’t for the first five or six years of my career. I was very anti- anything loud and garish and I wanted to be taken seriously. I took myself too seriously, it was really dramatic. Once I let that go and was like, ‘I’m going to be a DIY pop star’, I could be the girl that I always wanted to be when I was little, which is the sparkly kind of princess, dollar store vibe of a pop star. When I accepted myself, that that was who I was regardless if people took it seriously or not, everything started working very quickly.

‘Pink Pony Club’ is definitely your biggest song right now! What was the inspiration behind the song?

I wrote it a week or two after I went to my first gay club, I’d just turned 21. I went to West Hollywood, and could finally see what I’d always been so curious about. I’d never been to a gay club, we don’t have any in my hometown. We have some in the surrounding towns, but I’d never been to them. ‘Pink Pony’ was inspired by the feeling that that club gave me. It was so crazy: everything I was taught about gay culture was the opposite of what I was seeing in front of me. It seemed so full of love, everything felt really natural, there was nothing demonic about it. If anything, it was spiritual. I was awakened! I had to write about that. There were go-go dancers at that club and I really wanted to be one, but I was too scared to audition, so I wrote a song about me being a go-go dancer.

Like you say, you only get your debut album once. What was it like to work on a project so important to you during a time like the pandemic?

It was very hard to keep going because I had no money. I had to move back in with my parents for a bit because I ran out of money in LA. I was working part-time for years. This is the first year I’ve made money off my music. I can finally support my rent and my food and gas solely off my music, and it’s taken almost a decade to get there. I was just making minimum wage, trying to work a shift at the donut shop and then go to a writing session afterwards. It took a lot of tenacity to keep going. I’m proud of myself, but also of my friends. This was a group effort. A lot of people worked for free for over a year and volunteered to help. I had to learn how to do my own makeup. I had to style myself. I learned to do a lot of random skills myself, that I never would have had to if I had a tonne of money.

‘Hot to GO!’, the newest single from the album, is out now! How does it feel to have that finally out in the world?

It’s the biggest single we’ve had on the first day, so far. It’s streamed really good the first day. I was very surprised. This is a song that I felt self-conscious about even writing because I was like, ‘Oh my god, it doesn’t mean anything’. It’s literally just about being hot. It’s so counter-song writer, meaningful, I don’t know. Then I was just like, ‘It’s camp’. I just need to be silly and I really wanted a dance that I could sing and dance with the audience, like the YMCA! I was like, ‘I need to do that! I need to spell something with my hands that people in the audience can learn too!’ Simply, the whole point of the song is for me to do it live with the audience. It’s so fun to perform because I’ve been performing it before it’s been out, like on the spring tour. People love participating, it’s so fun.

The debut album feels like a collection of songs in which you really tap into every facet of who you are and want to be, defining yourself on your own terms. What inspired your thematic and visual approach?

I’m inspired by drag mostly. I almost look at myself as a drag queen. My real name is Kaylee, and I feel like my drag name is ‘Chappell Roan’. The way I dress is inspired by drag. With music, what I would want to hear in the club is what I write. I also like writing narratively and creating characters. A lot of the stories aren’t necessarily true – it was just based on my fantasy. Aesthetically, I turn to my inner child and ask that version of myself of what feels good. Most of the time, it’s things like Bratz dolls, princesses and tacky big jewellery, drag queens, burlesque. Anything over the top but not unaccessible. I’m not trying to be dripping in real solid gold and diamonds. I think fake jewellery, like costume jewellery, is much prettier and more appealing.

The post Chappell Roan is a rising queer pop princess appeared first on GAY TIMES.

The Hong Kong-born artist on their new EP, working with Lava La Rue and embracing constant change.

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH

Ash Johnston, the brains behind BB Sway, is a rising star. His gentle, guitar-driven songs have already received over two million streams. How Will I Get There?, the third BB Sway EP, is defined by his signature, though changing, falsetto. Known for his knack for producing and songwriting, Johnston has emerged on the scene as a quietly powerful newcomer. 

On his latest EP, the 24-year-old pulls together four dreamy tracks which pull on sweet melodies and old-school runs that will have you hooked. Now, months following the EPs release, the project has become a time capsule measuring their growth as a trans-masc person. In the latest instalment of our new music editorial series, Queer & Now, we chatted with Johnston about fusing identity with creativity and how his music changes with him.

Hey Ash! How did you get into music and what gravitated you to being an artist?

I grew up in a household where we always played music. I wouldn’t say that there are straight-up musicians or artists immediately in my family, but both sides are creative. We listened to a lot of music around the house, we’d go to shows here and there. I learned piano from an early age. I didn’t really enjoy it, I think piano lessons are very structured and theory-oriented. We moved to LA when I was about eight and I decided I wanted to learn to play guitar.

A couple of years into that I started making my own music and writing songs. A little later, I started to get back into piano and started producing, on GarageBand then Logic. I went to boarding school at around fifteen, which wasn’t too far from Brighton, where my aunt lived. I was there pretty much half the time, which was great because I could go to shows and meet other artists to get exposure to the music scene in the UK.

What kind of music did you listen to around the house growing up?

It was mainly my dad hogging the speakers. My mum would’ve been more into Mazzy Star and jazz. I remember she used to play a lot of Ella Fitzgerald to me as a kid, so I really enjoyed older jazz like that. My dad had a pretty eclectic mix. There was the ‘dad rock’ side of things, but he listened to a lot of pretty modern music. We listened to a lot of Green Day and Macy Gray a lot. One album, The Id, is very core to me as a childhood album. Avril Lavigne, as well, a lot of very early 2000s pop-rock. I listened to Cafe Del Mar, this collection of ambient world trance music, so you have artists like Bonobo on there. We listened to Massive Attack as well, Portishead, that sort of trip hop. Honestly, it was such a mix.

Your sound is often summarised as ‘dream pop’ or ‘indie lo-fi’. Would you agree with those descriptors?

Growing up in the streaming era, I don’t really uphold or value genre labels. I don’t like categorising my music. It’s always difficult to say what kind of music I make. I feel like I make a lot of different types of music, even outside of the ‘BB Sway’ project. There is a small part of me that has tried to keep a certain sound and explore different types of sound within the project. 

You fuse identity with your creativity and self-expression a lot in your art. Why is that important to you?

My identity is a big part of the way I express myself creatively. We all create from our own personal space, so it’s always been very relevant to me. It’s become even more so as I’ve gotten further into my journey as a trans person and come to a lot of realisations about who I am. It’s very rare that I’ll write a song about just one thing or one situation, I’ll be inspired by a lot of different life experiences or feelings.

Often songs will be inspired by a romantic situation but also be relevant to my personal journey. ‘Everything You’ve Always Wanted’ is a good example of that, being initially inspired by a situation with someone else, but ended up just being as much about my personal journey. It’s interesting to navigate being an artist as a trans person because at the moment I’m going through a lot of changes which are really exciting.

Is ‘Everything You’ve Always Wanted’ one of your favourites from the EP?

It’s probably my favourite song on the EP. I love them all for different reasons, but I feel the most moved by that one. It’s the most personal and intimate. I like the idea that different trans artists find out more about themselves through the music – that’s been something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. My voice is changing, getting lower, so I can’t sing in falsetto at the moment, and a lot of my songs are in falsetto. I’m not too stressed because I feel like it’ll come back when my voice settles. It’s like going through a second puberty. I have questions like, ‘Will I ever be able to perform the songs I’ve released in the same way?’

Would you want to reclaim them in a different way, having gone through transition?

That brings up a lot of interesting questions about change in general. If I were to play an old song now, of course, I would do a different arrangement and play it in such a way that I connect with it. Regardless of my transition, that would be the case. I’ve been working on new music lately that I’m singing in a lower register.

It feels euphoric to me doing that, but my voice is still changing, it hasn’t stopped. I was speaking to a friend about it the other day and they said, ‘Isn’t it so exciting that you’re making music that documents where you’re at in your transition, like the T process videos?’ That’s how I’ve been thinking about my music, making these songs and documenting my voice at this moment. Regardless of transition, this is the case; when you make a piece of art it’s like a stamp in time.

What’s the creative knock-on effect now that your register is changing?

We all go through changes and, as an artist, you have to think about how you’re going to accommodate them. I’ve definitely tried to maintain a positive view about it. I have a very positive, excited view for the future opportunities for exploring different sounds and utilising my voice in a different way. I’m taking a little break from performing and taking it easy because my voice is a bit unpredictable at the moment.

When I release a project I wonder if I’m ever gonna be able to sing those songs like that again. Maybe the perspective is, ‘Do I have to?’ Part of me thinks about the industry’s approach to the artists. The industry wants artists to be consistent in their imagery, brand and aesthetic. Sometimes I’d be asked not to do something super drastic with my hair during the period of an EP campaign for photoshoots or music video shoots. I’ve been asked to keep my look the same during that period, and it made me think about what is sometimes expected of us in terms of consistency.

The EP has been out a short while but can you share how it came about?

The EP came out fairly recently, in late May. It’s got four tracks and when I was putting it together, I wanted to collaborate with artists and producers on songwriting and production. Up until this EP, everything was self-produced and I didn’t have any co-writes, other than one track on the last EP mixed by someone else.

I’d been collaborating so much with people and I thought I’d like to have that reflected in my projects. Another thing is that I just wanted to write good songs. This time I wanted to write songs that could be stripped down to the most minimal version and still stand up. I also really wanted to play these live, which is ironic now considering my break. I was originally wanting to make an album, so I was writing a lot of material. I was working with a producer called Courage, who I met through working with Lava La Rue, and Hugo Hardy. I really enjoyed working with them on the production of these tracks.

We love the cover art – it’s very distinctive! Why did you choose that image?

That was actually taken by Lava La Rue when I was working with them on their new album. Lava took the picture, I was just eating, we were fully stocked up on food the entire time. I’m notorious for being a big snacker. I felt like a picture of me eating something was pretty representative of my state of being a lot of the time. There are probably deeper symbolic interpretations, slurping up the noodles trying to nourish yourself.

You work with a lot of creatives -like Lava- how does your process differ when you’re working with someone else 

They feed into each other. These days, I’ll go into a session like ‘Let’s get creative, whatever we make, it may be for my project, yours or a collaborative thing.’ I love going into a session with that sense of freedom. It involves you trying to take away your ego a little bit, which can be so liberating. You’re making something outside of yourself. Collaboration is such an important source of creative stimulation for me.

Johnson’s new EP How Will I Get There? Is out now.

The post BB Sway is time-stamping his creative transition appeared first on GAY TIMES.

The upcoming LA artist on her debut album Now That I’ve Been Honest, surviving American Idol, and becoming her truest self. 

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH
PHOTOGRAPHY BY GUS BLACK

It’s been a fever-dream weekend for Maddie Zahm. Just days ago the fast-rising musician opened for P!nk at Hyde Park. Now, away from the mania of the stage, Zahm is settled in Sony’s London offices and is soaking in the moment. “It was the craziest weekend! We had so much fun and P!nk is a mad woman. That’s going to be something I’m going be thinking about for a really, really long time,” she laughs. 

Zahm’s graduation from American Idol contestant to a one-to-watch artist has been no easy feat. Growing up in Idaho, the Gen Z singer-songwriter fell in line with a Christian community and was appointed as a church leader at 13. Her debut EP, You Might Not Like Her is a five-track focus of Zahm’s intimate, purposeful pop therapy. An anecdotal capsule of the 25-year-old’s relationship with religion, body image and identity — the collection of songs places Zahm in Phoebe Bridgers-meets-Ethel Cain territory as the singer’s vocals are brought into central focus, backed against swelling string arrangements, in weighty ballads that simmer in trauma and truth-telling. So, it’s no surprise that her viral TikTok emotive anthem ‘Fat Funny Friend’ catapulted her into the arena of must-watch artists. 

Now, on the other side, Zahm is continuing the motions of self-discovery. The artist’s latest project Now That I’ve Been Honest is not only her debut full-length project but a proposition to take control of her own story. Coming out and coming undone, Zahm’s debut record retraces her journey from amateur artist to authentically independent musician.  

In the latest instalment of our new music editorial series, Queer & Now, we caught up with Zahm to chat about her debut album, coming up on social media, and figuring out new career highs. 

Maddie! You’ve just played Hyde Park and supported P!nk who’s an icon. What was that milestone like for you? 

It was special because I was kicked off of American Idol five years ago because I forgot the words to P!nk’s ‘What About Us’ so it was one of those full circle moments. It’s really funny because I looked back and found a video of it and I’m really glad that I didn’t want to be a musician at that point because I had a lot of work to do, but I’m very grateful that I got it.

‘Fat Funny Friend’ blew up on TikTok. It’s a pivotal song on your debut EP. Where did that track come from? 

Since ‘Fat Funny Friend’, I’ve lost about 150 pounds and about halfway through that journey, I started experiencing life through the lens of a non-plus-sized body. So, seeing the difference in how people treat me now versus how they did is astronomically different. On the day I wrote it, I got something changed in my car and I remember a man offering to help me. Normally, coming from that experience, you’d be grateful, but I remember sitting in my car and sobbing. I realised that probably had I not lost that weight it would have been a different experience. I went home extremely frustrated and said ‘I’m fucking tired of being the fat funny friend’ and it turned into that song. It ended up taking off in a way that I was not expecting.

‘You Might Not Like Her’ is another track of yours that has gained traction. What inspired that song? 

Honestly, I didn’t really want to write that song. ‘You Might Not Like Her’ is the least I’ve ever thought about a song while writing it. It was venting, Even musically, I don’t even think the structure of the verse makes a tonne of sense, because I wrote on a piece of paper and then sang what I wrote and just made it work. I was writing it mainly for myself. I remember sitting with my friend, who I wrote it with thinking, ‘This is never gonna fucking release.’ I was never planning to come out. I also didn’t think that I was queer, even when I wrote it, which is so funny to me – that’s the most gay experience! All the evidence was really stacked against me. It all felt too honest and too specific.  

Your music is self-referential and pulls on a lot of personal experiences. How do you creatively work around that?

It’s interesting explaining why art is so exhausting. Some of the best stuff that I want to put on my project genuinely terrifies me. I have to make sure that my ducks are in a row before I release those songs into the world. Looking back at like ‘You Might Not Like Her’ and ‘Fat Funny Friend’, I don’t think I fully processed those [experiences] before I released them. I’m writing so specifically about my life, which means I’m probably never going to reach a conclusion – I’m growing, I’m learning. With this album, it’s fucking messy. It’s very dramatic because it’s my life and so I’m accepting it’s never going to be polished because I’m not.

At what moment have you felt a strong feeling of pride about your music?

In the ‘You Might Not Like Her’ music video, we were casting a man and a woman to play my on-screen parents because my coming out was very chaotic. For my parents, it was really difficult because we were so close. Growing up, they knew everything about me and this was the first time I kept a secret from them. It came across, to me, like they were saying ‘No, you’re not’ but what they were trying to say is ‘How did we miss this?’ My dad, when we were filming, asked if he could play himself in the music video to have a chance to respond the way he wish he had in the moment. So, it was a one-take moment in the ‘You Might Not Like Her’ video of me coming out to my parents. That was me, for the first time, telling my parents I’m gay so that reaction was really real. 

From tour to new music, what’s your favourite music memory? 

One of the first love songs that I wrote about a girl. I remember writing it and listening to it thinking the songs I’m writing about girls are worlds better than the songs that I was writing about boys! I remember that moment of being able to write about someone that I actually liked. 

You’ve begun peeling back the layers of what else we can expect from you. What else do you have in the works?

I wrote an album called ‘Now That I’ve Been Honest‘. I feel like I’ve set the foundation of these core people that are dealing with religious trauma, body things and queerness. It’s a community of really close people that mean a lot and during this last tour, I was connecting with them so deeply. But, I feel like we’re eight months behind. They were listening to ‘If It’s Not God’ or ‘You Might Not Like Her’ and shuffling through those things. I’ve had a year of my life since releasing the EP and so this body of work of what’s been going on now.

From my first experience dating someone who’s closeted to my first experience of dealing with mental health – it’s all literally in chronological order from the moment that I dropped the EP. It feels like I need to catch my friends up on what’s happening and this journal entry of 12 songs does that. It starts with a song that sounds a lot like the EP called ‘Where Do All The Good Kids Go?’ and then it goes into the first love song that I wrote about a girl.

You’ve outlined the album flows chronologically. Did you consider presenting a different timeline for the album?

I was writing with such deep conviction because I was going through high school and college, having a new identity, dating for the first time in a matter of a year. 

When we first started talking about an album, I didn’t know how to make one but then it all fell together. I realised there was no other way than to tell the story of what I’ve been doing and the songs just fell into place.

Processing your identity mentally and living your life is so different… 

I remember talking to my queer friends before I came out and they would tell me about certain scenarios and I thought, ‘Oh, interesting’, and then I went through the same shit — it hits so different!

You’ve had quite the upward journey as an artist. You appeared on the first season of American Idol and now you’re an proudly independent artist. How do you feel about your career trajectory? 

When I was on American Idol, I’ll be completely honest, I didn’t want to be an artist – I was skipping school. On that show, I was known as the Christian worshipper and plus-sized contestant and that was the character that they created. It’s interesting having that as a timestamp to look back on and understand why the EP was so jarring for me. It’s a snapshot of the person that I was and the shit that I had to go through to get to where I am now. 

American Idol does not prepare people for the actual industry because it is just so different. And are they going to hate me for saying that? Yeah, but I stand by it. A lot of being an artist is self-reflection and sitting in the quiet and using the introspective time to create art that you feel. You make it through if you have either a sob story or star power and both of those things, in their mind, can’t align. So, that allowed me to go on the show but also didn’t allow them to see me as somebody that could win. 

Without the competition show, you’ve made quite a name for yourself. Your new single, ‘Where Do All The Good Kids Go?’ is out now. What does that song mean to you?

‘Where Do All The Good Kids Go?’ bridges the gap from EP to the album. When I was first told that I was going to be working on an album, it was important that I don’t go from this really intentional EP to a pop sound. It would be really jarring for my listeners to go from ‘If It’s Not God’ to really gay pop anthems so the best way was to use the same format that I did with the EP and produce it in a very piano-driven and vocal-driven way. 

It starts out with talking about my religious trauma and it’s about realising that this last year has been me catching up on life that I was not allowed to live, which is my authentic truth. Even if it was messy and chaotic and I made every mistake in the book, I couldn’t imagine it going any differently. So, I wanted to pose that question of ‘where do the good kids go?’ and tell you exactly where I went for a year, and it felt perfect.

You’re now on the other side of creating your debut full-length project. How are you feeling about it?

I feel blessed that I have the opportunity to create a piece of art that isn’t as painful as the EP. There’s so much joy in it and I’m feeling excited about the prospect of being able to talk about universal concepts that aren’t so painful to talk about. I’m feeling relief, not because I don’t love the EP, but because it’s heavy. We’re not supposed to feel that heaviness forever. That’s a state that we are not meant to stay in it. There’s beauty in this next chapter and you slowly get to hear me find joy.

Zahm’s debut album Now That I’ve Been Honest is out 20 October via Dollgirl and AWAL recordings.

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