People ask Julia about her songs a lot. In a borderline invasive way. What are they about and did this thing really happen to her? She accepts that it’s partly down to the music she makes (folk rock that’s known for its emotional charge) and how her songs are presented (autobiographically, with the vocals high in the mix and poured straight into your ears), but while it’s what makes her music so powerfully relatable, it doesn’t make it any easier. The questions come from fans and journalists, and while I try to avoid going down that road, I fail at least once, even if I ask my question reversing up the street.
The song I want to know about is ‘Moviegoer’, perhaps my favourite song on PRE PLEASURE. It leaps out from the record as the one track that doesn’t appear to feature Julia or her life experiences, but rather tells the tale of a Hollywood film director and a fan of the movies. I offer her my interpretation of the song for her to tell me how wrong I am, if she wishes. And I am wrong. I took this brilliant (quite misanthropic) song and boiled it down to an allegory of loneliness, and how it fits us all the same, whether we’re the millionaire director or the average person watching his film.
“Ooh, I like that,” she says because she’s a nice person. “That’s pretty close.” Then she goes on to tell me what the song is really about: “That’s one I’m actually still trying to figure out. Like, what the fuck did I make?! That song is a swirl of so many things. I was quite angry when I wrote it, which you can tell from how the song sounds. It was a crushing realisation that maybe making and consuming art actually doesn’t make us any happier or feel connected to people in the ways we all like to say it does. I don’t want it to be too pandemic-y, but I’m sure it was exacerbated by that time of how much people were talking about how important art was to make and consume so we could all feel connected during the pandemic. I was so irritated to hear that all the time because, without sounding too cheesy, I think lots of people actually want real human connection, and to be understood by the people in their lives. Y’know, after I got out of that feeling I do appreciate that music does play a role in lots of things and can be very useful, but at the time I was very aware of the limitations of art and that you can’t expect it to fill the void of living in the world we’re living in right now.”
Julia’s answer reminded me of one of the things I’ve always liked most about talking to her about her records. She calls out the things that most indie musicians don’t, and she is loath to talk about what she does in a grandiose way (although I’d argue that that’s for the rest of us to do). She doesn’t consider herself special, even if her talent is. And when I ask her if she’s ever pulled back from including any feelings or experiences in her music, wanting to go there but finding it too much, she says: “It really depends. I never want to be cruel to anyone. There’s definitely a lot of stuff I’d never say out loud. I’m sure we all have that – real gritty shit. I think I’m more wary of being put in a confessional lady singer-songwriter thing. That’s probably what stops me more, rather than caring about being open. I just don’t want to be a cliché. And I do sometimes question how it’s expected of women to be a bit more open hearted and rip-yourself-apart-and-present-it and that’s the only way people will care about your humanity. And I question if I’m playing into that, and that it’s not helpful to me or the world. But I think why it doesn’t bother me most of the time is I know now that most of my thoughts and feeling are shared. One beautiful and hard thing about getting older is realising how much you’re not special at all. Like, every feeling and thought you’ve had has already been had. That can be pretty devastating but on the other hand it’s humbling. Me singing this stuff doesn’t feel that special because I know it’s not a unique thought.”
A year after the Crushing tour finally came to an end Julia started listening to music again. “I love music, but it’s pretty stressful,” she says today. “Making a record and putting it out is pretty intense. I try to find joy in music from just listening to music now. That will eventually lead me back to the joy of making music.
“The indie world is a churning beast of so much stuff,” she says. “I’ve always been very up to speed and I got exhausted by it and just wanted to listen to big feelings with big music.”
The three songs she first returned to were ‘Never Too Much’ by Luther Vandross, ‘Because You Loved Me’ by Celine Dion and ‘Because It’s in the Music’ by Robyn, “songs that sound like they were written by aliens, because they don’t include any of the mundanity of everyday life.”
“I think I was a bit burnt out by human feelings,” she says, “and I was trying to get over myself a little bit. You can get so concerned with being cool – being cool online, and making music, and being irreverent – and listening to Celine Dion, she’s taking it super seriously and not pretending that she doesn’t give a shit, which is the indie brand – to not give a shit while actually giving so many shits.”
Julia grew up with that Celine Dion track, which “sounds like a warm bath”, having heard it on her dad’s 1997 Grammy Winners compilation CD when she was seven. Robyn is of course a more recent discovery – Julia saw her perform at Austin City Limits in 2019. “It was just the best thing I’ve ever seen,” she says. “I felt so much joy and I felt like I was 13 again, which is so beautiful because that’s one of the saddest parts about growing up – you don’t have that unadulterated joy from music as much. But I saw Robyn and it made me feel so good. I think I’d forgotten what pure joy felt like when watching music. And how that is super valuable. Like, people always say, ‘Julia’s releasing a new song, get ready to cry,’ which is nice because I know it’s referencing it bringing out an emotion, but I think people can put more weight on that because it’s dark and real, and maybe not put as much value on someone who just makes you so happy and joyful. It was super inspiring.”
We spoke about similar feelings when Julia came on the Loud And Quiet podcast at the end of 2019. Talking about her teenage self she said: “I just remember feeling so much. I had my JVC CD player and I’d turn that up, lie on my bed, thinking I would die of feelings.”
I ask her how she is now in comparison.
“I think I’m worse. When I was younger I had all of those feelings but I was very shy and I didn’t have an outlet yet. I wasn’t a musician and I couldn’t put it all in songs. I was feeling lots of stuff and you’re kind of learning in what environments you can let it out. I now have a job that literally is about saying the quiet things out loud. Which is so great in many ways. But then you get to the point where you think, oh, there’s definitely another step after the point where you can say everything out loud and put it on paper and write lots of songs… I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but yes, I’m exactly the same.”
Photography by Nick Mckk