Kelly Lee Owens has always, somehow, been the kind of artist whose presence is right there yet simultaneously occluded. She releases music under her own name, her first album was literally called Kelly Lee Owens and her first two album covers were portraits of her face. Yet on these black and white covers, her face was slightly covered or off-centre, and her voice was often masked by reverb. On her upcoming album Dreamstate, she faces the viewer head-on in technicolour and sings clearer, louder than ever before.
The singles from Dreamstate sound way poppier than the earlier stuff. Was that intentional?
Electronic music has always had elements of pop, and I think at the moment it is the most pop it's been in a long time. I was listening to albums like Madonna’s Ray of Light when I was creating this. So where I’m at, this happens to be the kind of stuff I want to make.
But once you delve further, you'll see that there are very vulnerable, slower-paced songs as well. The singles so far are more upbeat, but there are other sides to the album that are darker and also more intimate. It makes some of the poppier stuff even brighter, and makes it make sense in the wider context.
It’s like chiaroscuro – dark and light in balance.
There's always been elements of that in my work. Even when something's dark, I'm always looking for that tinge of hope or light or euphoria. But perhaps it's more amplified in this new body of work.
When I was listening to this, another artist I thought of was Robyn.
I wasn't listening to Robyn, but I get it, because I love The Knife and Swedish pop – and obviously she's a pioneer. I love how she's made pop from electronic music.
I'm always trying to create something that transcends a moment, that transcends decades. And that's not easy to do, but I think having worked in record stores for 10 years, I could feel when artists were going to have a career in 10 years because they weren't making something that they thought would be cool.
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Speaking of a decade working in record stores, how has that experience shaped your work now?
First of all, it's the most wonderful education. How lucky am I to be showing up every day to be paid and discover something new to me? I used to be employed because I was the new music indie kid. I knew all the weird seven inches coming out on underground labels. But then there were people into post punk, classical, jazz, techno, so you get fed this stuff. And when I left, I was shocked at how hard it was to find good music. You have to do a lot of work to keep up.
I was also influenced by the stories of the artists. How did they do it? What were the things that they fucked up on? I just watched people and learned. I was a bit older when I started [releasing music], 26 or 27, so I had a business education as well.
Then you have the pleasure of meeting your idols in a neutral space. You see these musicians first and foremost as music fans. I remember once Nick Cave was coming, and I put on this Mark Bolan Live at the BBC record, which was just after [Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ album] Push the Sky Away came out, and then [Nick Cave] came up to the counter and bought it.
When you were first working in record stores, you said you were the indie kid. Does that mean that you were listening to The Smiths more than techno?
I was into bands, like Foals, LCD Sound System, Joy Division, Nirvana. It was pop as I grew up in the 90s; then I went through a phase of AC/DC, Metallica, classic rock shit. But I love everything, from Korn to, like, System of a Down.
On this album, I’m hearing that you, as a person and artist, are much more front and centre. Previously, it almost felt like Kelly Lee Owens was a name or stamp on the music, but now I feel like you are like the woman in the music. How did this happen? It also seems reflected in the colourful album art.
The front of the album cover is me looking back at the past and somehow saying goodbye to it, honouring it. There's trepidation there, but a willingness to take that leap of faith into the next phase. And then, the back cover's very strong. I am looking at the future.
I think that on a personal level, it's being in my 30s as well. I'm getting the hang of this thing called life. A key moment was Kieran [Hebden] from Four Tet hearing me live – he was like, “Kelly, don't bury your vocals under all these effects.”
What elements of your practice have remained the same?
Having started slightly later, I've always trusted my taste. I've had nothing else to go off – I don't read music. I'm not trying to be virtuosic at a particular instrument, although I really respect that. I'm more of an all-round producer; I know when something's finished. I'm meticulous, very detail-orientated, but I know where I'm going.
I know a lot of people struggle – they have a billion ideas but can never finish anything. I'm a finisher, and that has never changed. I had that even before I knew what you would call production. It's innate to me, like when a director also writes their films. I’m such a purist that it has to be overseen from beginning to end by me.
You said that you weren't interested in being a virtuoso. Do you play instruments?
My first instrument was voice, but then I was obsessed with drums. Then I played bass, so obviously – rhythm and bass, dance music, hello! But then I have melodic vocal sensibilities: I would sing Baroque pieces and learn them by ear. I was able to harmonise, but I couldn't tell you what that chord or harmony was.
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Dreamstate is released on dh2, a new imprint at Dirty Hit. What have you gained from working with the imprint that you might not get from Dirty Hit?
I love that I’m the first person to launch the label. I’ve been given ultimate creative freedom. It's all on Dirty Hit, but because it's new, we're discovering together what this imprint is. But it equally matters that Dirty Hit has an established framework, a way of working that is powerful and runs like clockwork. So this is a lane for me to grow and flourish, but I'm sure there'll be other people welcomed into that family soon.
I've seen you three times now between 2018 and 2023. It's always conscientious and planned. It starts songy and quiet, and by the end, it's like, I'm ready to go out! How will Dreamstate be integrated into that?
I'm starting that process now with a new MD [Musical Director] and figuring out what Dreamstate will be. But instead of just ramping up constantly, there'll be moments and punctuations where it's simple and vulnerable. But have no doubt that it will end up in a rave – it's the only way for me.
I want to ask about growing up in Wales, too. Was that anything to do with your free party with Caribou this summer in Bethesda?
Yeah, it was. I remember moving to London in 2009 or 2010, and I’d never heard of Caribou. This guy came into the record store hyped for the new Caribou album, and when Swim came out, I lost my mind. It was the indie sensibilities that I knew, but with electronic elements. I found out years later that it was mixed in North Wales with David Wrench, who ended up mixing Dreamstate.
David and I had been talking about North Welsh raves, and that was the inspiration for the video for Love You Got. In the 90s, in the quarries and mountains, there were illegal raves left, right and centre. When Dan [Snaith, of Caribou] suggested [the free party], I was like, Let’s do it!
I’d never felt such love in a room in my life, this gratitude and warmth. I think music being offered for free – where possible – for the community is so powerful. The North Welsh coast often gets missed because people think it’s close enough to Liverpool or Manchester, but the lack of venues is also a real issue.
Is the rural setting on the album cover linked to Wales, too?
It’s linked to the ethereal natural elements that inspire me and ground me. It wasn’t shot in Wales – it looks like it could be. It’s more of an ode to nature. But there’s a pylon, that urban connectivity. That’s what I’m interested in: the interconnectedness between technology, urbanism, nature and the ethereal moment.
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