"Hats feature frequently in the record," noted Julia Holter last week. We were in the lobby of the Ace Hotel in New York on a scorching afternoon, talking about her latest full-length record, Loud City Song, out today. Holter's known for deriving inspiration from literature (her first album, Tragedy, drew on a play by Euripides) and this latest is no exception—Loud City Song takes Colette's 1944 novella Gigi as the starting point for a vivid meditation on celebrity culture in the Internet age. Holter draws parallels between the naive title character's experience in the charged atmosphere of French society and the plight of the modern consumer, drowning in a torrent of disposable media. Read our Q&A below for an enlightening glimpse into Holter's views on songwriting, field recording, and celebrity culture.
Ezra Marcus: How would you describe the evolution of your sound over the last few albums? Has there been a trajectory?
Julia Holter: There's no big trajectory; the biggest development is that the quality of the sound has improved because I've been working with people who know more about recording. The approach I took to Tragedy, my first record, and to Loud City Song are actually similar—taking a story that exists already and being inspired by it to create a new story. But they sound different: Tragedy is a darker, more electronic sound, and Loud City is more colorful and varied. I don't think of [my music] as progressing towards one thing, I think of each of my projects as separate and which way I go depends on the story.
Your albums tend to balance songs that are darker and more austere with songs with a pop sensibility. How do you see the relationship between those dynamics?
I just don't think about it. I never think, "I'm gonna make this one a pop song." I just think I'm going to make this one have a strong melody. If the poetry of the song calls for something that's very sparse then I will create something sparse. I don't think about things in terms of genre, or happy and sad. You'd be surprised how effective it can be to accidentally come up with a happy-sounding song with seemingly sad lyrics. Sometimes those things complement each better than a one-to-one relationship.
You've mentioned that this album relates to your impression that modern reality TV culture is "horrific."
It's tricky because I say that in interviews, but it's not something you have to know when you listen to the record. It's about a more extended discussion on the wildness of the media. I think it's scary that so many people like to watch other people do embarrassing things. It's unattractive and unpleasant to watch for me, but I see how it could be intellectually interesting to people. There are people who are going on reality TV trying to become famous by being on reality TV. It's this whole feedback loop. It's not like I don't use technology or social media though; I'm not anti-anything. The record doesn't mention reality TV directly, it's just the question the record is focused around.
You use a lot of field recordings—what draws you to them?
I like working with them. When I make a recording I might alter it with another recording or do something to make it different from its original form. It's like a collaboration with something else that you can't necessarily control.
You've mentioned that with Tragedy you drew a "visual plan" for the album—did you do anything similar for Loud City?
No, this one I just started recordin
Ezra Marcus: How would you describe the evolution of your sound over the last few albums? Has there been a trajectory?
Julia Holter: There's no big trajectory; the biggest development is that the quality of the sound has improved because I've been working with people who know more about recording. The approach I took to Tragedy, my first record, and to Loud City Song are actually similar—taking a story that exists already and being inspired by it to create a new story. But they sound different: Tragedy is a darker, more electronic sound, and Loud City is more colorful and varied. I don't think of [my music] as progressing towards one thing, I think of each of my projects as separate and which way I go depends on the story.
Your albums tend to balance songs that are darker and more austere with songs with a pop sensibility. How do you see the relationship between those dynamics?
I just don't think about it. I never think, "I'm gonna make this one a pop song." I just think I'm going to make this one have a strong melody. If the poetry of the song calls for something that's very sparse then I will create something sparse. I don't think about things in terms of genre, or happy and sad. You'd be surprised how effective it can be to accidentally come up with a happy-sounding song with seemingly sad lyrics. Sometimes those things complement each better than a one-to-one relationship.
You've mentioned that this album relates to your impression that modern reality TV culture is "horrific."
It's tricky because I say that in interviews, but it's not something you have to know when you listen to the record. It's about a more extended discussion on the wildness of the media. I think it's scary that so many people like to watch other people do embarrassing things. It's unattractive and unpleasant to watch for me, but I see how it could be intellectually interesting to people. There are people who are going on reality TV trying to become famous by being on reality TV. It's this whole feedback loop. It's not like I don't use technology or social media though; I'm not anti-anything. The record doesn't mention reality TV directly, it's just the question the record is focused around.
You use a lot of field recordings—what draws you to them?
I like working with them. When I make a recording I might alter it with another recording or do something to make it different from its original form. It's like a collaboration with something else that you can't necessarily control.
You've mentioned that with Tragedy you drew a "visual plan" for the album—did you do anything similar for Loud City?
No, this one I just started recordin