Lounging with Liza: A Quarantine Conversation
Interview by Rosie Accola
Brett Warren
Liza Anne sings scathing, honest, pop punk power ballads for those seeking self-awareness bolstered by a healthy dose of power chords. But the forward nature of her music is often contrasted by her lyrics, which contemplate the intricacies of navigating one's own emotional well being. Still, Liza’s lyrics always manage to find the humor in navigating one’s emotional health, even when she’s wondering whether or not it’s actually okay to ghost your therapist.
Liza Anne’s new album, Bad Vacation, comes out on July 24 via Arts & Crafts. In her latest single, “Bummer Days,” she sings, “I don’t know what I want / but I know that I feel bad. And then when I feel good / I think I make myself sad. I want to feel like I can get out of my own way,” contemplating self-sabotage and putting an end to the toxic narratives that we tell ourselves. Liza carved out a corner of her quarantine routine to chat over the phone with Hooligan’s Online Editor, Rosie, about how she’s been navigating self-care during the COVID-19 pandemic, the deceptive usefulness of self-help books, and why she would want to fold socks with Timothee Chalamet.
Hooligan Mag (H.M.): I’m curious to hear about your Instagram series that you’ve been curating, your Emotional Health 2020 rallies, and how you came up with that idea, and what it’s been like to put that together?
Liza Anne (L.A.): It’s been really amazing. I feel like I learn most in conversations, the candidness of conversations that will happen in a green room before a show, or when I’m home just getting coffee with people or the cookouts that we’ll have. Something that’s been really weird about quarantine is that we’re all so isolated from those moments of happenstance interaction where you end up learning this pivotal thing that changes your next year. You can’t force/ recreate that, but I just wanted to create … in sort of all the livestreams going on, a moment that feels candid and like the real sequence of conversation that I really miss, with being on tour, learning from other people’s experience of how to be with themselves. It’s been so inspiring, it’s given me a brand new moment of, ‘okay, I really want to grow.’ I want to come out of this without some of my old patterns and means of toxic interaction and codependency and all that stuff. I’m going through a twelve-step program right now and I’m just super inspired to be like, ‘I’m gonna come out of this like a superhuman’. I feel like those conversations have been really grounding for me.
H.M. That’s awesome. I feel like the other thing with quarantine is that it’s so easy to slip into this big, existential despair and let it consume you, and it’s really hard to pull yourself out of that.
L.A.: It’s so hard. It’s not like there’s nothing do, but we’re experiencing global grief. It’s a grief that’s inside all of our bodies and brains. Everyone’s experiencing it so differently, but we’re all experiencing loss.
My brain’s really struggled and I think those kinds of pinpoints in my week to have a conversation centered around healing have been like, selfishly I’ve been like, ‘Man, I need these.’
H.M.: It’s so hard to do basic things right now.
L.A.: I feel like the most lethargic version of myself. Truly, the easiest things are like, ‘How am I supposed to do that?’ It’s reverting me back to something that feels a lot like a depressive bout, but it’s just like, life right now. I’m trying to not overthink it too much, we’re all feeling a heaviness. It’s just like a moment that we’re all feeling.
H.M.: For sure. Do you have any specific self-care strategies that have been helping you during this time?
L.A.: I think the biggest thing is having some sort of consistency to self-care check-ins; trying to do therapy once a week, and then also having a meeting with my sponsor and my twelve-step program, once a week too.
H.M.: What do you think about all those tweets about how Shakespeare wrote ‘King Lear’ during a plague
L.A.: There’s like two sides to my brain right now. My album was written during so much movement, so it feels weird to just be paused. I’m so excited about [the] art that comes out of this time. We’re all experiencing something at once, so anything that comes out of this we’re all going to feel personally connected to, whether it’s poetry, or albums, or books. When else have we been able to point at something and say, ‘me too,’ with the whole world? It’s crazy.
H.M.: Other than a good ‘ol fashioned global pandemic, I was hoping that we could talk about the process for your new record, and if you could kind of just walk me through how you write.
L.A. It’s so interesting because this record specifically is so different the way it came about. As far as my day-to-day writing process, I’m writing poetry all the time, just in the notes of my phone. Then, I have voice memos of melodies, that’s kind of just the ground level of how I exist as a human being. Writing this record was so interesting because I wrote all of these songs, but we were sort of as a band, growing them on the road. We would rehearse them at soundcheck and get into the nitty-gritty of these songs before going into the studio was even a question so they felt like these living, breathing, organisms. We were sort of like, ‘How do we let these things be captured as they are?’ Rather than these weird, long, days in the studio. It felt like the record was already living and breathing and we were just trying to capture it.
H.M.: That’s really cool. So did you actually record the record live?
L.A.: When we actually went in to record the record, we did drums and bass together, then a guitar day, and then my vocals. There are two songs on the record actually that are completely live, but other than that we just kind of built them up in a pretty normal, isolated way. It kind of felt like the first time I heard us as a band. I kind of understood, when I was listening to this back, I was like, ‘Oh this is cool.’ It felt kind of out-of-body in a way like listening to it and it wasn’t even mine, because it had everyone else in it, too. For me I can just hear everyone’s intuition, it’s really cool.
H.M.: It’s so cool to finally get to that point where you understand that maybe what you’re making is worthwhile.
L.A.: It’s weird!
H.M.: It’s so bizarre. Have you ever struggled with impostor syndrome at all?
L.A.: Oh yeah, every day! I mean, maybe not every day, but you know, there’s so many, amazing, wonderful artists. I don’t have a competitive bone in my body but I will for sure escort myself out of the room and be like, ‘Oh, I shouldn’t be here.’ But I don’t get the threatening, weird, competitive thing that people get obsessed with I just feel like, ‘Oh man, am I supposed to be here? Do these people really want me?”
I don’t know what it is, I don’t know where it comes from or what part of my childhood spoke a narrative that I shouldn’t be included in important things, or whatever. It feels cool to disempower that narrative because there’s room for everybody. I’m supposed to be in a room as much as everyone else is. Getting to feel believed in by people I really respect has kind of moved that narrative aside a little bit. But I think it’s always going to be there.
H.M.: Yeah, and like learning to accept that, that’s a part of your brain but it’s not your entire brain.
L.A.: I love that. I think that’s the key to so many things, not over-attaching yourself to any of the things that pass through [your brain.] Just kind of letting thoughts, and feelings, and insecurities float through your brain and not be the whole story.
H.M.: That is so hard, and I think that’s one of the main things that’s freaking people out right now. I don’t think people have ever been quite as present with their own thoughts as they are right now.
L.A.: It’s such a specific moment. It’s like really encouraging me to take some serious moments to do some real emotional work. I went to a therapy intensive in December right before all of this. It was seven days, no phones, basically a lifetime of therapy in seven days. It’s interesting because I was really inspired to do all of this emotional work and now all I have is time to do the work, which, I’m thankful for but part of me is like, ‘Oh someone please distract me. Where’s capitalism when I need it?’ I’m so with myself.
H.M.: How does it feel to go from being on tour all the time, and having that’s so kinetic and so based on the idea of going from one place to another, to being completely still?
L.A.: This might be the most important interpersonal moment of my twenties. I’ve gotten so used to growing and grounding within movement, but I think the state of your mind, soul, and emotional being becomes really apparent only in lack of stimulus.
I think I was kind of distracting myself into pseudo-forms of being okay while ignoring some real core issues and struggles that I was having. With the lack of stimulus and just being with myself I’m able to really dig into emotional growth and healing.
I really miss being on the road, like, so much. But I’m super thankful for this moment to invest in myself outside of performance, just as a person. I do that while I’m on tour, too but it feels really good to just be paused for a second. Which feels weird to say because there’s a lot of pain going on in the world. But I know on an interpersonal level it feels good for me to stop for a minute.
H.M. It feels so weird to acknowledge and experience moments of joy right now … but I think one of the things about this time is that it’s forcing us to think about what we really want to do.
L.A.: It’s like a global saturn’s return. It’s totally reconstructing the idea of tomorrow to be brand new, which is terrifying. When there’s a new thing there’s always an old thing to grieve, and grief is such a nuanced process. It’s different for every person. It’s hard to let go of something and I think we’re having to let go of nearly everything we were relying on. Obviously, we’re comfortable, I have a home, life is fine, but it involves a lot of openness and vulnerability.
H.M.: Do you think the idea of vulnerability within social media impacts your writing?
L.A.: I feel like I’ve been an oversharer since I was twelve, so it doesn’t feel new to me. I’ve kind of existed in that realm, to a fault. Part of social media feels really fake, but there’s something recently where people are more eager to share parts of themselves. I think it will turn into a really creative [moment] historically. I feel like it’s creating an accessibility to expressing that people didn’t have before, not that you need a performance aspect. There is something amazing about people being able to share their thoughts and vulnerabilities in these little snippets.
H.M.: Can you tell me what you were consuming while you made your album? Did you read something, what were you listening to?
L.A.: Oh so many things. I want to send you a playlist of what I was listening to for the sake of being really specific. But the broad version is: a lot of Kate Bush, a lot of early Fiona Apple, a lot of St. Vincent. A lot of early seventies French music, I don’t speak French but I was really drawn to it emotionally, just the sonic landscape.
As far as philosophically, things that I was kind of digesting that were really shifting things for me conceptually, was a lot of Patti Smith. Especially, Devotion, her book that she put out a few years ago. I bought that in New York and wrote my song “Devotion” the next day.
A lot of Simone De Beuvoir and just these badass women who were not afraid to articulate their view of the world and not afraid to claim space. And then a lot of pseudo-philosophical self-help type things. I love The Four Agreements. I was just digesting a lot, I don’t even know where to start.
H.M.: People get a little nervous around self-help books like, ‘I don’t need any help!’ But then you read one Brene Brown book.
L.A.: I know it’s just one of those things that’s so simple but then they connect it. I’m reading a book right now called All About Love by bell hooks and it is blowing my mind. You know when you start reading a book, and you’re reminded of the joy of learning something? It breaks the echo chamber of things that you have been learning but then there’s something new that comes in and you’re like, ‘This is what it feels like to expand!’ I just love that feeling. The books I read totally open up little doors in my psyche that will eventually birth new records.
H.M.: I’ve always been really invested in the idea of music being a conglomerate of a bunch of different mediums rather than just, other records.
L.A.: It totally is. The record itself is a testament to hundreds of pages read, and conversations had, and therapy appointments, and art that you saw. It’s an emotional stamp.
H.M.: Do you have any strategies for times when you’re feeling creatively stuck?
L.A.: Yes and no. There are so many amazing resources for stuff like that. There’s The Artists’ Way, I’ve done that a few times when I get writer's block but it doesn’t necessarily work for me the way I’ve seen it work for other people.
I actually just have to not put pressure on myself. I had a friend tell me, ‘You’re in a season of collecting. If you keep putting pressure on yourself it’s just going to feel too performative.’ As a writer, when you’re not writing, it doesn’t make you any less of a writer. You’re just in the collecting moment. To overcome that I try to read a bunch of things that remind me why I write or listen to albums that remind me, ‘this is the first time that I felt understood as a woman because I listened to Fiona Apple talk about it like this.’ I try to return to those original sparks, but also relieve myself of the pressure that if I’m not writing that makes me not a writer.
H.M.: When was the first time that you felt like a performer or like an artist?
L.A.: I remember really liking what it felt like to make people laugh when I was a kid. Not that it was like a performer thing, but I remember liking that I brought something to a room in that way. The first time I truly felt like I was performing probably wasn’t until I moved to Nashville and was playing with a band for the first time. There was a moment in the first full band show I played in 2012, where I was hearing myself in the monitor with all of the other instruments and I was like, ‘Oh my God, I’ve wanted this for so long.’
I was a worship leader in high school but that never felt right. It felt like a weird ego trip. So I think when I finally got to Nashville and really embraced my own messaging, what I felt and what I was thinking about, it felt way more authentic.
H.M.: People are always seeking authenticity, but they go through it with art in a way that feels performative until they find their own little groove.
L.A.: I totally relate to that. I remember touring my record Fine But Dying for the first time and it felt like the thing I envisioned, down to the colors and lights and sound. It was so cool, just experiencing that growth.
H.M.: Are you involved in the process for music videos as well?
L.A.: I’m pretty involved in it, but I also love seeing how other people interpret something. I love seeing it pass through, brains, minds, and psyches that I really respect. All of Fine but Dying was directed by Josh, who’s my partner now. He also directed one of the music videos for Bad Vacation. But then this new [video] for “Bad Vacation” was [directed by] Sophia Lauer, I just love her art. It’s super cool to meet yourself through the way that other people experience your art.
H.M.: How does the community of Nashville impact your work?
L.A.: My band’s all based in Nashville, which is amazing. Even so many of my good friends have been in my band at some point. My band has had a lot of different phases which is so cool, I’ve loved being able to collaborate with people.
I don’t really like co-writing so much but i have my core [group of] ‘I trust these people’, my friend Kyle, my friend Jillian, my friend Trent, and then Josh who happens to sleep in my bed. Collaborating as a couple but also as best friends has been really cool, I’ve never experienced that relationship before.
H.M.: That’s cool that it helps you guys. I’ve heard of so many experiences where the opposite happens. Being creative is inherently communal, especially with writing but you really have to find the right people.
L.A.: It’s such an intimate experience. I went through a very small phase in Nashville when I was like, nineteen, where I did the whole ‘write with a bunch of random people co-writing thing.’ You can’t just show up to something and immediately dive into that deep well of stuff. Maybe some people don’t write the same way I do so maybe other people aren’t as put off by that, but for me writing is such an intimate experience. It’s like talk therapy, so I have to feel really soul-connected and emotionally safe around a person to be able to write in a way that I know is my best self. I’m down to grow in that and expand that core group of people that I write with, it just has to be thoughtful.
H.M.: I don’t think people realize how intentional you have to be while you write, and what a big role demos and editing play into the process.
L.A.: There are those songs that feel like they just fell out. Like, ‘This was just ten minutes of me sitting down and now this is here.’ But that is like one in every one hundred songs that I’ve written. Everything else has layers, and starts, and beginnings, and new beginnings. It’s just a whole process so I’m super sensitive to who I bring into that. It matters to me that I never release something where I’m like, ‘Hmm… I don’t know.’ I’m so sensitive to the things I put out and the messaging, things that I believe in, believing in myself.
H.M.: What do you think of records and cassettes as art objects?
L.A.: I love it. I think it’s so fun. The physical object itself is like a whole other phase of the record, it’s a whole other way to hold it. I think when sounds become tangible they fit a whole other role in that person’s experience of it.
It feels like being twelve again.I think so many of us are drawn towards nostalgia. I think nostalgia just stands for the first time we felt something. We’re drawn to the things that hold an emotional memory. So I think it’s so fun that people are collecting cassettes and vinyl, even CDs feel vintage at this point.
H.M.: I think about linear notes all the time.
L.A.: Me too.
H.M.: I wish there was a Bandcamp feature that had little PDFs of linear notes.
L.A.: That would be amazing! We should tell them that.
H.M.: I get the same way with the backs of books and acknowledgements.
L.A.: My heart melts every time I read a dedication, whether it’s in a book or a vinyl. I’m just like, ‘I want to know who this person made this for.’ There’s such a sweet way that you get such a personal, non performative, glance into that person’s psyche and the way they speak to the people they love, so linears feel so personal. It just feels really special.
H.M.: This idea that you’re like this architect of this whole experience feels so cool.
L.A.: Ugh, I love it. I never want to do anything else.
H.M.: That’s sick as hell, I’m so glad that you found your thing.
L.A.: Thank you, that’s so nice, man.
H.M.: What else could you ever want for another person, you know?
L.A.: That’s like in that book All About Love it’s like, loving is extending oneself to nurture someone’s spiritual journey and growth. All we ever want for the people we love is for them to be close to themselves and do the thing that they love and learn the things that make them happy.
When you were talking about Nashville, I am just surrounded by people that I am in awe of. Not even just in Nashville, in the creative community that you and I are both involved in. I just feel like such a fan of these people who I get to have personal windows into, and also the same window that the world gets into and those things line up. There are just many good people being really real and I’m so lucky to have a seat at the table.
H.M.: I feel the exact same way, it’s wild. I think it helps me believe in myself to know that my friends believe. You know, they would tell me if my work was bad.
L.A.: Yes! It feels so comforting [to have] people who care enough to be honest and who care enough to believe in you, it’s so cool. There’s such a collective of it, I feel like we’re all such fans of each other and it’s so cool.
H.M.: It’s so cool and it’s also the exact opposite of what I thought being creative would be when I was in middle school. I pictured this very bizarre, cliquey the Devil Wears Prada but with words kind of thing.
L.A. Oh totally! I remember when I was learning guitar there was another girl in my class who played guitar and she told me that it was her thing and that I couldn’t do it. I immediately was like, ‘Okay, it’s your thing. I won’t do it anymore.’ It’s so weird even as a kid the competition that’s innately woven into creativity or so we think. But there’s so much room for everyone’s voice and experience, there’s nothing but room!
H.M.: Learning that there’s enough room is probably one of the main things you learn about being an artist.
L.A.: Oh yeah. Because when you’re wasting all your time worrying or being insecure or competitive that’s wasting so much of the emotional energy that could be put into:
A). Being super proud of people for being themselves and using their voice.
And also B). the emotional energy that you could be investing in your own process! It’s like that cliche, ‘comparison is the thief of joy’ but it really is!
H.M.: Those are all of my questions except for my cute quarantine ones.
L.A.: I love it! Wait, what are the cute ones?
H.M.: Okay, what is one mundane chore that you would want to do with someone famous? Like, I think it’d be fun to go to a laundromat with Andy Samberg, I think he’d have a fun chore presence!
L.A.: He would. Okay, I want to fold laundry with Timothee Chalamet, like a big pile. I don’t want that to go quickly, I want that to be a hard day’s work.
H.M.: You want to linger, you want your hands to gently brush against each other.
L.A.: I want to organize socks with him.
H.M.: If you got to quarantine with three people, living or dead, who would they be and why?
L.A.: This is tough because quarantine is a hard place to live. Even Josh and I, who like, I love him and we’ve been best friends for years but quarantining is hard! So I don’t know who I want to say because I don’t want them to see me at my worst.
H.M.: It’s like the extreme version of the desert island game.
L.A.: The desert island game hits different these days. Okay, I’m gonna say: Timothee Chalamet, Greta Gerwig, Saorsie Ronan. Just because they seem to have a really good understanding of personal space and self-care. They have really good conversations while also being funny, it’s like the balance of being serious and silly. It could be good.
“Bad Vacation” comes out July 24 via Arts and Crafts. You can watch the music video for “Bad Vacation” now. You can also check out Liza’s most recent single “I Wanna Be There” below.