Haunting and the kind that tugs at the heartstrings, JULIA WELDON is lighting up uncharted territory for the genderqueer community to soar to the headlines with strums of guitar a voice that can’t be ignored.
With the distinct line between male and female melting like clockwork, a resurgence of musicians, queer or not, has found the beat to create a rhythmic uprising that hits change right in the head. Amidst all the utter turmoil and backlash flayed out by conservatives and backward thinkers, Julia Weldon stands loud and proud with profound renditions of truth and principle wrapped in ethereal and soothing tunes, apt to be food for the soul. Heavily influenced by raw personal experiences and a wide array of musicians–from the likes of Whitney Houston to Bon Iver, this Brooklyn-based finds herself standing in front of crowds and evoking endless outpour of unfiltered emotion all thanks to the closest to her, guiding her to the right unpaved direction. “I finally took the leap and started doing live shows. It was around that time that I realized music is my calling and passion in life,” says Weldon of her unyielding passions. She continues, “I wouldn’t be here without those people close to me plus the ongoing support of my fans.” Despite encountering an unfortunate snag along her way to the blinding gender affirming top surgery which led to a coma 2 years ago, she was able to recover positively and brightly as an artist, equipped with renewed invigorating passion for music and as an individual with a new chapter in her life to tell.
“A lot of my music comes out of the need to process things that are too difficult to put into words – music seems to move beyond just words in its ability to express feelings.”
What drives you to create music?
Julia: A lot of my music comes out of the need to process things that are too difficult to put into words – music seems to move beyond just words in its ability to express feelings. I think I’ve also always loved writing poetry and putting lyrics together with music is incredibly cathartic. Lately, I’ve been moved to write more political songs because things are so messed up in the United States with Trump threatening people’s lives and livelihood.
How would you describe the tracks you create?
J: Hard question. I think they’re intense and raw, but soothing and sweet at the same time.
Out of all the heartfelt records you’ve created, which one would you say is very close to your heart?
J: I’m so attached to all of them. But I think Drew Morgan and I are both super fond of “Comatose Hope.” I think it really expresses what the album is as a whole. It’s both beautiful and alluring but also sounds like my coma felt – elusive and difficult to grasp. It expresses the moment in life when you’re moving through some terrible tragedy and you see rays of light floating through the air. It was a special and intense process of making that song in the studio – Drew and I really connected.
“It expresses the moment in life when you’re moving through some terrible tragedy and you see rays of light floating through the air.”
You’re very vocal about your opinions on the matters of society. Was there ever a moment that became disadvantageous to you?
J: Being an outspoken, visible artist hasn’t always come naturally but I think it’s super important. My instinct is to say no, it hasn’t been disadvantageous – I think people feel authenticity in an artist and I think being honest about who I am and what I support has only led to good things in my career. As a queer and genderqueer performer though, I do often wonder if I would be experiencing a different level of success if I was a white cisgender male songwriter. Would my music have more recognition as a male artist?
What message do you want your listeners to take from your music and experience?
J: I hope they speak to something bigger that people can relate to. I feel like what ties the album together is that the songs represent the moment when we try to move through the hardest feelings. All those feelings that are too big and overwhelming to comprehend – so we have to feel and sing and move and cry.
By Pauline Miculob