“How are you doing?”
“Wait, let me think about that…”
Platitudes are left aside for our chat with Ullah. The sort of thoughtfulness and attention to detail that are inherent to our conversation permeates her work, especially on ‘For Then’, the most recent output from her and her band. The EP flirts with grungy sounds but evades true heaviness, making her music tough to define. Thematically, the songs traverse her short life so far – she’s just 23 – but her age does not at all betray her deep curiosity about her thoughts and experiences.
Born in Perth, Australia, Ullah is an artist that writers place into the folk scene that she grew up in, and that is very easy to find in that part of the world. “I don’t know how I’d describe myself. I’ve stopped saying folk. When I was solo, it was folk, but since I’ve put a band together, it’s less folk; I like darker sounds. I try to mix sounds into my music in an attempt not to get pigeonholed”.
That sound is influenced heavily by her local scene in Perth, followed by Melbourne, where she has recently moved. “I started writing songs in primary school, and when I was 16, I went to a folk festival and spent the whole time wishing I had my own guitar. Following that festival, I finally did get my own guitar, and from there my songwriting began to get more serious.”
And what about the scene in Perth makes it so inspiring?
“I believe it’s a fact that Perth is the most isolated city in the world (true, according to my research: it is over 2,100km from the nearest city) and because of that, the scene is so unique. What happens is that, in contrast to larger and better-connected cities like Melbourne, the scene in Perth has more variety: you have one band that does this sound, and another band with a different sound, and they can be found on the same bill. In somewhere like Melbourne, you may have a bill with 4 artists with a similar sound in one venue and then another venue with another sound elsewhere in the city.”
The Australian contribution to alternative music is criminally underrated. King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, for example, are loved across the globe but are famous for their work ethic more than they are for being an Australian act. Australia has produced a lot of artists that stir Ullah to create.
“Joe Davies and the Bush Chooks, Claudie Joy and the Joy Boys are both artists that I’d recommend to anybody wanting to hear what’s happening in Perth. I love Clove, also from Perth, Missy Higgins- my mum used to play the Sound of White album over and over, and I was singing those songs before I could talk; she’s Australian royalty. I’d recommend the song ‘Scar’. I think most Australians would know the lyrics to that song. In terms of venues, I’d have to say MOJOs and The Bird. I think if people go on a night out in either Perth or Adelaide, another isolated city, you are guaranteed to find music that you like.”
Childhood has an inevitable influence on us all, artist and listener alike. The influence of Perth on Ullah is naturally linked, but few express that influence as explicitly as she does across her catalogue of recorded and unrecorded work. ‘For Then’ contains two tracks titled ‘How To Dance Part 1 and Part 2’, which both seem to explore the theme of childhood. What’s the relationship between the two parts?
“I remember house sitting for someone and thinking about how much freedom children have to just ‘be’, without the perception of others. I became aware of other people’s gaze as I got older, and that feeling of being perceived was so overwhelming. It changed, I’d say, during high school, specifically year 10, when I was going to folk festivals and dancing and having fun and felt stubborn in not becoming aware of that, but at some point it became too hard to ignore.”
“I think social media had a subconscious effect; it wasn’t as bad as it is now. I can see the influence of social media at gigs when everyone’s recording things, especially at larger gigs. We are being perceived by potentially millions around the world. I can visibly see the shift in everyone’s hyper-awareness. I’ve read so much about how Gen Z is killing the dance floor in this way- that sums up ‘How To Dance Part 1’. ‘Part 2’ says, ‘well, if I’m aware of it, then I can change that’. I’ve always loved watching a band and watching them dance around; I wanted to have a song where I can dance and make the crowd feel like they can dance to it too.”
Where there’s childhood, there’s family.
“It’s a constant theme in my songwriting, including in songs I’ve written recently. A lot of the songs I write are also about cycles, themes that I have in my life. So much about our music makes sense when we play live. We have a song called ‘A Hole In Your Wall’ about my Dad and my Sister. My Dad was loud, and my Little Sister was scary; she’s less scary now. I have four other siblings, and she’s the youngest. She used to chase us around the kitchen with a knife! Coming from a big family, a loud and intense family, that will always impact the things you write about. When I first started writing songs, I would only write from the perspective of an old man, and I’m not sure why. I had an idea called ‘A Crush On A Concept’ about a man who was sitting on a chair reflecting on his life and thinking about how his fear of failure was so great that he now lives with regret for the things he never did. Those are fears I have. Another song I have is called ‘Thomas McCoy’ about a farmer whose wife and kids had left him.”
“Another big theme in ‘For Then’ is perception. ‘If I Were A Fish’ is about wishing to change yourself into anything in order to appease another, knowing it won’t work, but doing it anyway and the pain that causes. I used to create friendships in high school by asking a lot of questions, but when I got to year 11, I realised that people liked to be listened to and enjoyed the attention. I decided that if the other person didn’t ask me a question, then I’d stand there in an awkward silence. I’d decided on that change as the previous friendships didn’t help anybody.
“‘Shoulder To Shoulder’ is about perception, but within my own self-criticism. I used to be so self-critical. It was self-hatred, and it was exhausting living in that brain. I was in a cycle of thinking anything I wrote was awful, anything good I didn’t deserve and anything bad I did deserve. It wasn’t just exhausting for me- it was also exhausting for other people around me. I would never speak like that to anyone else.”
By moving to Melbourne less than a year ago and at the same time making music exploring themes of childhood, Ullah at once moves away from the childhood that in part inspires her art and yet remains with it still, ruminating on its impact and what we gain and lose from the experiences of our youth.
How does Melbourne compare to Perth?
“Melbourne has so many venues; there are gigs every night of the week, and each bill is often devoted to a specific sort of music, but it’s different all over the city. There are so many talents. There’s Hannah Cameron, who has an album coming out, and Hannah McKittrick- she’s cool, dark and moody. Dogworld, who I enjoy, as I don’t mind crying when I’m watching music.”
“Northcote Social Club have a free entry night every Monday for 4 local artists. It’s an awesome venue and a fun initiative. The venues are endless. The Retreat, Old Bar.”
Just like Ullah, many artists must wonder where they’d be without those open mic nights, without those venues willing to take a punt on the local scene.
Back onto the topic of music, what else inspires her to create?
“It’s hard to live some kind of life, especially a creative one, while it feels like everything is going up in flames. Things I find inspiring include closing your eyes and dancing with people, and feeling things shake off you as you do it. Random interactions with babies and kids. I crave community connection even if it’s at a football game and everyone’s cheering- it makes me well up.”
In our conversation, the subject of a potential upcoming album rears its head. What can we expect?
“I think the album departs slightly from the themes explored in ‘For Then’. I wrote something down about the album in an attempt to find its purpose. I wrote: ‘As a child, I only ever dreamed of being an adult, but now I’m in my 20s, I seem to be pushing against that, and I feel these songs reflect this and all that comes with it. Acknowledging the challenges of life and seeking magic like children do; engaging with it all like a child does with honesty, without fear, but with excitement and dreams and being powerful in nature.’ Handling things with childlike curiosity; it’s crazy to want to be an adult as a child.”
The music press has been up in arms recently about the marketing power behind Geese, who have rocketed to fame on the back of a targeted campaign to get them into the cultural zeitgeist. How does this affect the work of smaller, independent artists, knowing that so much media attention focuses on such a small array of musicians?
“I feel like I’m in such a separate world. What makes me fearful is when women in music become huge and idolised. I feel like it happens every 3 months, and then they’re torn down, and it becomes more popular to hate than support them. I think it’s scary how becoming popular also means people want to drag you down. These women are genuinely hated. It’s a trend on TikTok at the moment to slam the opening act; people don’t realise that’s a real creative person on the other side. It’s amplified too when that woman is a person of colour or queer.”
“On Chappell Roan, I don’t believe she’s ever done anything that deserves the hatred she receives. She’s clearly struggling with fame, and she’s been open about that; when people say ‘well that’s what you’ve chosen’ nobody can possibly know what that really means. Accessibility to people has shifted. I feel lucky that the people I play to and with are kind and interesting, and I hope my space stays that way.”
“I don’t think I’ve got the thick skin. It would be a dream for a musician like me to open for an international act. Imagine that musician then finds people bagging them on TikTok. I think the world would be a better place if we followed something we were taught as children: ‘if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all!’”
Check out Ullah’s EP ‘For Then’ on all streaming platforms and on Bandcamp. Find her Instagram here
The post The Art of Becoming: Ullah on Childhood, Perception, and the Weight of Fame appeared first on Indie is not a genre.