Remy Bond on Joan Rivers, Explaining Aesthetics and Collaborating with Her Sister

Words: Tabitha Carver | Creative Direction and Photographer: Lewis Vorn | Makeup: Georgia Hope | Hair: Gaia Bezbradica | Styling: Omid Anthony Dibaei | Set Design: Mick O'Connell

I connect with Remy via a choppy internet connection — she’s on a tour bus with her team, travelling to play Lollapalooza in Berlin before the final show of the tour at EartH in London. In some ways, I feel like I am talking to an old friend from school. Remy is kind and quickly disarming — despite the fact she has recently signed to Warner and has been featured as one of Billboard’s 21 Under 21 and championed by Elton John.

If you are a regular consumer of content on the internet, it is unlikely that you will not have heard Remy Bond’s songs accompany your daily scrolls (see Summer Song, which has been noted as the catalyst for her popularity after going viral), but many know her most for her incredibly curated aesthetic. Crafted from what I learn is a genuine love for retro aesthetics backed up by a deep interest in the aural language of a time gone by, Remy stands on stages with sky-high peroxide blonde hair and pops out of cakes in vintage dresses.

It is this visual aesthetic and worldbuilding that is the focus of a significant amount of interviews and commentary online. One could be tempted to compare her aesthetics to Lana Del Rey, or a wave of nostalgic references best exemplified by 1965 by Jessie Murph, which came under scrutiny online for romanticising conservative gender roles of the 20th century. While it is important we continue to interrogate a continued popularity of nostalgic aesthetics, it’s equally important not to solely demonise it, or reduce artists completely to the visual worlds they build.

When I ask her directly how these comparisons and the focus on her aesthetic makes her feel, especially as a young woman in the industry, she is unperturbed, although admits that her feelings are “hard [to] consolidate it into words”.

“I feel like I'm pretty free, and I just do, like, whatever I want,” she says, “To me, the world [I create] is just my taste, and just all the random things I put together as a woman.” After a moment, she laughs: “I think it would be harder for me to build it if I didn't have, you know, all the hair and everything. Yeah, the hair is great… That's the stupidest answer I've ever given, I think.”

“It's never really been like I have [a message] to share. I've actually always been way more interested in melodies and sonic soundscapes,”

The paradoxically confident and reserved nature of her response is refreshing. While she is clearly intentionally nuanced about her aesthetic choices, she does not feel obligated to consistently defend or explain their historical context.  Instead, what becomes increasingly clear as we speak, is the importance of her music: “It's never really been like I have [a message] to share. I've actually always been way more interested in melodies and sonic soundscapes,” she tells me.

Remy Bond is unmistakably dedicated to the musicality and production of her work. She quotes Elton John: "The songs are the core, the production is the style.” During the call, I catch further hints of the deep love she has for sound: excitement about using old equipment, the puzzling together of melodies, attention to reverb and the malleable messiness of noise.

“I know what state of mind I make my best songs at and it's definitely not when I'm being told how good I am.”

In today’s productivity culture, and a commercial preference for music that is digestable, shareable and potentially viral, how does she approach her creative process in order to keep putting out work she likes? She thinks for a moment: “[When I have an idea] I usually just slide my camera open … There are like, hundreds or thousands of videos on my phone of me just at the steering wheel in my car." While she jokingly reveals that she’s struggled to keep up with regular reviews of her creative ideas, she’s in control of them. There’s something profound in the trust many creatives share: as long as it’s down somewhere, it will come to life when it’s ready.

Her younger sister Olivia is also an integral part of her and output as an artist and a gentle advocate for a more organised creative process. “My sister gets so mad because I, like, take her phone. She's like, why are you recording it [on my phone], you're never gonna find it!” Not only has she directed and starred in Remy’s music videos, she forms part of the entourage that routinely appeared on stage with her throughout her North American and European tour, hair piled equally high, co-creating Remy’s world.

“Liv's just like the only person I feel like I can be insane with,” she tells me, diving into the story of creating the video for Don’t go back to Paris. While Remy was recording music in the middle of the desert, Olivia organised the whole shoot in a tight timeframe, booking film crew and locations so they could stop off to film on their way home. The resulting video, which sees Remy singing in front of retro bowling alleys and from inside nostalgic hotel bathtubs, is even more striking when you understand the deep sisterly bond at the heart of its logistically impressive creation.

Her sister Olivia writes too: Remy excitedly teases an upcoming trip to Austria for a personal project between the two. She’s clearly looking forward to diving into a new project somewhat free from current expectations she is under as a rising star. While aware of what is happening, and clearly appreciative, Remy also wants to stay grounded: “You just have to, literally, make sure, [you] don't really care about [..] the praise or the good things, because then, you'll also care about the bad things. You know, I know what state of mind I make my best songs at and it's definitely not when I'm being told how good I am.”

I ask her if there is anyone in the public eye she looks up to in particular and I can almost see her go through a huge rolodex filing system in her mind with copious amounts of references, new and old. “I'm a huge fan of Joan Rivers,” she finally says, “I think the red carpet is in dire need of Joan at this time.”

We’ve run out of time. Days after we say goodbye, I catch videos of her performing at Lollapalooza and vintage tropicana inspired fan meet ups in London. There’s a likeable freeness and quiet confidence in her affect that matches up perfectly with the Remy I met on the tour bus. Remy’s aesthetic world is appealing — but we should remember to pay just as close attention to the sonic worlds she is creating.