On accepting what you can't change

What are you doing in LA?

I had to come back here and get some more gear for the studio. I’ve been back and forth from LA to London for the past couple of years, so I’m just gradually moving more of my stuff over to London.

London is a big move from the US, culturally—how does that feel? Does it feel like home?

Yeah, I think London actually fits me a lot more than LA does. It’s a pretty soft landing over there. Everybody speaks English. But it is really far. It’s been difficult logistically, but otherwise it’s been good.

Your music career kicked off at 17. When you reflect on that, are you glad things worked out the way they did?

I mean, it depends on the day. Most of the time, yes, but hindsight is always 20/20. I wish I could have done things differently in the moment, but of course I just did what I could do then. If it were up to me, I would’ve started my career differently, but I try not to think too much about the past and stuff I can’t change.

You’ve been an outspoken self-advocate in a very macho music industry, pretty much since the beginning. Where did you develop this willingness to speak up and rebel against a system when it would be very easy to just try to fit in?

It’s kind of just in my nature. When I was a little kid, I was always pretty rebellious and contrary, and when I was a teenager, I was really into the punk rock ethos. To be honest, I’ve shot myself in the foot several times by being outspoken and sometimes a bit stubborn. I didn’t really play the Hollywood game as widely as I could have because of my very outspoken nature. I think I probably burned some bridges… Well, I know I’ve burned some bridges and rubbed people the wrong way. I can’t really control it. Especially when I was younger, I just wasn’t willing to ever kiss ass. And it’s worked against me probably more than it’s worked for me, but that’s always just been in my nature.

I have never been impressed by fame or celebrity. I was never really interested in Hollywood or living in LA, but circumstances just unfolded for me and I ended up here. I never felt like it was my place. Culturally, I was living with a rockstar and surrounded by very famous, VIP people and industry execs really early on, and I just didn’t find myself with stars in my eyes in that way. I felt very… I wouldn’t say uncomfortable, but very hesitant. I just couldn’t be delusional enough to believe that this was going to be the wonderful path to stardom for me. I didn’t trust it.

I had that romanticized idea of being a punk rock artist and doing whatever I had to to play the music I wanted to. And in my head at that time, money didn’t matter and fame didn’t matter, and I was like, “Oh, I’ll just play rock shows and sleep on floors the rest of my life, as long as I’m going to do what I want to do.” And this is a very young, naive way of thinking because obviously real life requires some kind of financial stability. And I made things really difficult for myself in a lot of ways. I chose the hard way at every turn, it seemed. I was working three jobs at a time and living in some pretty compromising situations and putting up with some pretty crazy, unhealthy relationships in order to commit to music and commit to what I thought being an artist meant.

What sort of jobs were you working?

I was a waitress. I was an exotic dancer and a bartender. I did everything. But for years I just kind of did the crappy day jobs. I had this weird job where I worked as living decor in basically a big fish tank, a human fish tank in the lobby of a hotel called The Standard.

You’ve been outspoken in terms of posting about men in the music industry who put on a “good guy” persona for the media yet are cheating on their partners, or grooming young women, or whatever else they’re doing. What has the cost of this candidness been for you professionally and personally?

I think I am speaking out more about that as I get older because I feel like I care even less about preserving relationships with “powerful men” because I’ve been around the block and I can recognize when a carrot’s just being dangled. When I was younger, I was part of this boys club and I was seen as the cool girl and was always trusted by the guys to keep their secrets. And I did for a long time. I didn’t like that for myself, as a woman… I thought I had to really protect my place in the boys club, but that’s all a mirage, essentially. I learned very quickly I was on my own and that these kinds of men weren’t ever going to really have my back or protect me. I started valuing those connections less.

Where do you find sustenance emotionally? Do you have friends within and outside of the music industry who are there for you, or family, or a therapist? Who’s your go-to when you need it?

I value all my friends, but I really do value my friendships with people outside of the music industry. I think that having friends who don’t live and breathe the music business is really good for me—to give me perspective, to remind me that there’s a much bigger world out there.

When it comes to making an EP versus an album, do you start with a plan for making one or the other?

No, there’s never a plan. I have a more unique creative process, I think, than other rock musicians I know. I improvise everything, so I don’t pre-write any songs. Naturally I’m an over-thinker and I overanalyze, spiral out, and obsess, and I do the opposite with music. I try to not overthink anything and to let things happen very naturally. And if things don’t happen naturally, if a song doesn’t just come out of me, I give up and move on.

So whether I go in aiming for an EP or a record, it doesn’t really matter. Whatever comes out, comes out. When I’m done, I feel like I’m done and that’s it. I try to write at least one song a day when I’m in the studio. I try to give myself a limited amount of space and a limited amount of time.

How much do you enjoy live performance and how much is it a necessary way to stay in the game?

That’s a good question. It’s been something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. I’ve always been a live performer over a recording artist. I think my strength has always been live, and that’s probably why I record live. So I love playing shows, I love touring. When I used to tour more, I used to just get on the road and after the first or second show I never wanted to go back, never wanted to go home. I felt like I could do it forever. And now I haven’t properly done any full tours since 2019, before the pandemic. I did a short tour last year with The Dandy Warhols and The Black Angels, but it was a very limited run of seven shows.

It feels very weird for me because so much of my musical career has been being a live performer and touring relentlessly. The environment now is different. It’s really difficult to tour and make money; however, you need to tour to keep making money. So it’s been a catch-22 for me. I’m trying to figure out right now how I can still be part of this industry and still make music that reaches people, including new listeners, without losing money by touring. How can I have a career in music that I don’t lose money pursuing? Because it’s kind of crazy to have to work to lose money.

What are your plans for making and sharing new music? And I am fully aware that is a sneaky, naughty question to throw in.

Right now I’m working on a new record but I’m not going to worry about how to get it out until after I’ve finished it. Because to be honest with you, I have no idea. I feel like I don’t want to self-release; I need some help getting it out to as many ears as possible. Maybe I’ll have a better answer for you next year.