Premiere: Banke - "Simenon"

Stay informed on our latest news!

Watch "Simenon" below, and look out for Banke's debut EP Totem out April 13.



What is the inspiration behind your new single?
Brutal self-love and acceptance. “2LOUD” is owning who you are, flaws and all. I had to constantly remind myself that the very traits I was ashamed of while growing up led me to where I am today. I am quite expressive and I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve but it wasn’t always like this. Growing up in a strict, religious, immigrant household, I was taught to be quiet and docile. My religious upbringing taught me how to suppress my thoughts and feelings at a very early age. It took me many years to finally unlearn all that BS. Now, any time I get to experience joy, I don’t hold back. I embrace it by expressing myself in the fullest, loudest ways.
What do you hope to explore with your new musical era?
Well this era sonically feels like a 180 from my last EP. It’s pop-forward and FUN but there are still elements that remind me of my earlier work. In the past 7 years, I’ve changed a loooot. I’ve learned many lessons and experienced some crazy shit so my music is obviously going to reflect that. I’m not hurt anymore. I’m not really angry or resentful even. Im just happy and at peace with myself and my journey. So in this next era, I wanna explore and exhibit more vulnerability and honesty.
How does it feel to return to releasing solo music after the huge success of Kpop Demon Hunters?
Amazing. It’s been too long. FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!! Also I can curse and have my ass out without someone saying “ArEn’T yOu In A kIdS mOvIe?!” as if I don’t have a whole music video of me dancing on a stripper pole from 2021…
How would you describe the sound of your solo music to someone who has never listened to you?
Imagine if hello kitty had a glock. I used to say knife but it’s time for an upgrade.
What is the best thing about releasing solo music?
Well it’s been 3 years since Ive released solo music so I would say giving back to my reibies (the name of my fandom— pronounced as “rabies”). Another amazing thing is that you don’t really have to consider anyone else…. It’s my art so I get to control what I do with it.


How did your experience touring with Tinashe influence you musically?
I’ve been listening to Tinashe since high school. She’s been a musical influence of mine well before the tour so you can imagine how emotional and grateful I was to open for her on her 333 Tour. Being on tour with her only increased my respect and adoration for her. Her vision and work ethic are unmatched.
What have you learnt about yourself whilst recording and promoting Kpop Demon Hunters?
I’m an introvert. I hate car rides. I’m shy. I pee a lot at award shows. I’m a picky eater.
Do you have any dream musical collaborations?
Yes, but I don’t want to jinx it ;)
How has your approach to releasing solo music changed since you last recorded solo?
I think I work a lot harder and have a greater appreciation for the position that I’m in. I’m a lot more focused and present. I’m not as quick to quit things and I’m much more disciplined. The past few weeks have been constant sessions, shoots, meetings, promo events, etc., and it hasn’t stopped. But I’ve been loving every moment of it. I just have a lot more gratitude this time around because I get to live my dream.
Coming off such a successful movie, what are your ambitions for your solo career?
You’ll see! I don’t believe in sharing until it’s accomplished so stay tuned!

Tell me about the album title, before/after.
It's always a little tricky to figure out a record title. I don't think it's supposed to be super conceptual or anything like that, but they're two words that I felt constantly confronted by. They're everywhere. Every way that we measure time is tethered to these two states of what came before or after a certain event.
How is this project a development from your last record?
All of my records are hyper-personal. It's the subject I feel most comfortable writing about. But in the previous records, I've always made an effort to lyrically remain within the surreal. [This time], there are certain things that I just decided to spell out that aren't really veiled at all.
But I don't know, I feel like the implication is that something had to have progressed, but I feel like maybe the only thing that has progressed is time.
That's really poetic.
Maybe.
What was the process for developing this album?
I wish there was something cooler I could say at this point in time, but it really just is writing songs, and deciding are they going to make the cut for the record or not? I wish it sounded a little more glamorous and exciting than that.
But I did have the chance to work on three of the songs with producers I hadn't worked with before. I branched out. So, this record isn't entirely self-produced.
Do you normally prefer doing it by yourself, or is it just how it falls together?
It's kind of how it happens. Each song is different, but I have a clear idea of how I want the final product to sound. I think that's perhaps one reason I'm so involved. I think it would be different if I were a singer, and I would be like, "Okay, show me something. Here's kind of the vibe that I want." But, I think if you come to songwriting or producing from a musician's perspective, it's really hard to just hand it off to somebody.
How come you don't describe yourself as a singer?
Well, I think there's a lot of people that I enjoy who sing that aren't necessarily singers. Like, I love Gary Wilson, Lou Reed, Elliott Smith. So, I think it really depends. It's what I started doing last. So, you know, I've been playing maybe guitar for like seven years. I don't consider myself a guitar player. I think it's a means to an end.
How does it feel to reflect on your music with the distance of time?
I don't know. I mean, maybe this is also a good way of answering how a record can be put together. But my selection for the album ends up primarily being, what are the songs that I will feel comfortable still being confronted by or having to perform two years down the line?
So, do you find you get sick of your songs, then?
One hundred percent. There are songs that I wrote for this record that I was really excited by that just didn't make the cut. They're still good songs. I just don't want to be performing them. I don't want to be confronted with them anymore.
Does it irritate you when people listen to albums on shuffle?
No, because I have only shuffled the songs and put them into that order. That too is just a shuffle. If you want to shuffle them differently, absolutely go for it. I feel tortured by having to submit the track list, especially as people aren't consuming a whole record. This is what I've seen from my last records: people tend to listen to the first four or five, and then if they were a single, they will get a lot of plays. You can see in the metrics. So, that ends up factoring into my decision. I think the ability to have a long intro is over. It bums me out.
How do you feel about touring?
I like it. It's expensive. I think the only downside if you're an indie musician touring and paying everybody fairly and travel costs have gone up, this kind of stuff. But other than that, I love it. It's a joy to perform music.
Yeah, I’m sure. Do you like seeing the fans?
Absolutely. It's really nice to put faces to what otherwise feels quite arbitrary, or like shouting into the void with releasing music.
Do you have particular songs that people like to see live?
Yeah, Baker Miller Pink is a huge fan favourite. Klein Marx does really well, especially in France, which is funny because it's a German song about how I want to kill myself, but I don't think they know what it means, so they really love it.
How do you feel about the label of pop music? Because I know you've said something about being too indie for pop and too pop for the art world.
Yeah, I think it's hard. I think it is exactly that.
I think, unfortunately, even the indie and the underground is being pantomimed or played into, to a point where it feels performative. We live in postmodernity. There's a lot of pseudo-counterculture signalling going on, and it's just not actually punk.
And I think it's interesting… you know, I'm not really trying to be much of anything. I think that an interesting point in art is when you make use of the fact that you live in postmodern times.
So, there are a lot of different styles that will play an influence in the type of music that I make, but it's not trying to be anything. I think that's always interesting when it's something that does feel unique to the person or special kind of in its own way. And I don't know if there's too much room for that. So, I think it's always interesting to see kind of what performs well in today's day and age, and then try to figure out why.
Does the psychology of that interest you, then?
Of course. And, when I look at how things are marketed, I think those things are interesting. I love that there's this element of gambling involved in it. Some things are really unpredictable. But then, you know what? A lot of things aren't. Like, I was at a music conference in October and, it was really fun. The next day, I was asked to speak on a panel about artists in the age of social media. I was there as an indie artist on an indie label. It wasn't just artists. It was also people who worked in the industry. There was one A&R who was talking about a band who had also been nominated for the same prize I'd been nominated for the previous year, which is like a rising-star prize. And he was like, "Well, it was so amazing, because we experienced so much organic growth."
And I was like, "Okay, so how do you define organic growth?”
He was like, "Well, we just did these activations for the record. We weren’t buying followers. We weren't buying views. We were putting on activations for the record. They were playing on a boat, and we invited 500 people down for free." Like, okay, but that stuff still costs money.
It hasn't really changed much with music being a marketable product. I think people within the industry are far too quick to say that things are organic. Like, okay, yeah, you're not buying views from a streaming farm in Guangzhou, but you're creating an activation... You know what I mean?
I know artists who maybe have a trending sound on TikTok, but then that's unable to translate into actual streams, actual album sales, actual concert sales. I don't think there is this rosy-cheeked idea that if you're just really talented, it's gonna work out. I don't think that's really been the reality for a very long time. And look, I'm not against it. I'm not some social media pariah, you know? It's not ostracising myself from the landscape of music that we're currently in. It's just hard for me to sometimes negotiate how I feel about having to witness certain things.
But yeah, talking about promotion being organic, if you're promoting it, it's not truly organic.
Yeah, it's not.
And that's not a bad thing.
No, it's totally fine. Like, I think it's lovely that there's labels out there throwing money at artist development. I think that's great. But I think if music is being consumed as a product, it should be marketed as one. But then don't say it's organic growth. It's just factually incorrect.
100%, that makes sense. Do you like promoting?
It really depends. I'm trying to get better at it. I am sporadically active on my social media, which, I think doesn't really help the case.
I go through phases—I think it's so fun to be able to execute quick video ideas, and it's such a cool medium. I am just not regular with it in any semblance of the way, and that's not rewarded, right?
It must feel like you almost have to be an influencer.
You think?
You know, I met a really lovely girl at End of the Road Festival last year. And she does about five TikToks a day. And they're cute, but there's so many that I could just never do. Like, "If you like this artist, go check out my music."
It's not for everyone, though… Like, I feel like it’s the worst situation.
Totally. Like, I couldn't delete my social media. I couldn't do that. That kind of... that's kind of a bummer.
No, it's a shame. It becomes such an important part of life, for anyone—music or not.
Yeah, it's kind of ridiculous, but [it’s] just the way it is, I guess.
Would you like it to change?
I wish websites were more of a thing, you know? When I first joined the internet, everybody had their own website. You could just click through a library of different domains. That was really fun.
Also, everybody owned their own website, so it's not like you were on platforms owned by creepy billionaires.
No, I mean, the internet changes so rapidly. It's unfathomable, really. Because not many people would have their own website now unless it's for a professional reason.
Yeah. Well, I have one.
That's good, though. People should have more websites.
Yeah, but why wouldn't you have a website, you know?
Oh, well, I do have a website, darling. I do.
[Laughing] Okay, cool.
It’s crazy really. How does all the information get processed? How is it even possible?
Wasn't it that, like, “We are confronted in a day with as much decision-making as a Victorian adult was confronted with in their whole lifetime”?
[Laughing] You Know, I feel like I know the answer, but do you like listening to your own music?
Yeah.
Okay, really?
Were you surprised by that answer?
I thought you were going to say, "No, I don't like listening to it."
No, I think you're doing something really wrong if you don't like listening to your own music.
It's not like that's exclusively what I listen to, and especially after making a record, spending a significant amount of time with it, that can then get tedious.
But I enjoyed listening to it, and there were phases where—and I'm sure once I start touring again, I've had a very deliberate break from listening to it, and I'm sure once I start touring and playing the songs, I'll be really happy to play them because I am really proud of them.
So, I think if you're not able to enjoy and listen to your own music, you're doing something wrong. Don't make music. How do you expect other people to listen to it if you can't even listen to it?



Can you tell me about Poison Time as a concept, and define it as a term?
The name Poison Time came to us during the making of the record, and we were writing a particular song where that was a lyric. We just thought that "poison time" was maybe an era in our minds, and it felt like we were all in poison time right now.
We quickly decided that we weren't gonna try and explain it too much because it was also a name that spoke for itself. You know, it's evocative enough, and it raises questions more than it answers them.
There's definitely a desire for artistic statements to be completely whole when in fact the opaqueness makes it more immersive and enjoyable.
We're definitely on that boat, as huge David Lynch fans, who famously refused to ever explain anything he did.
Similarly to David Lynch, Part of Faux Real’s impetus as a performance project feels tied to the faux-reality of Los Angeles, the city that you now call home. How did the uncaniness of the city lend itself to this project?
This album came together pretty quickly and it was all written in LA in our bedroom studio. I think definitely the city has an imprint on the sound, but what you're saying about the uncanniness of this place is definitely a major and constant theme for us.
We elected to come here, you know, we chose to live in the city five years ago for these same reasons, because that drew us in. Geographically speaking, this is our first LA record, so it's in there a lot. The song [from] which the lyric Poison Time is lifted is a song called “Hides of March” that we started writing right around when the fires were happening last winter 2025. We were just waking up, and there were half-burnt books in the garden, just traveling in the wind. It was just a really strange, surreal time.


Tell me about “I Got Mine.” The lyrics seem to portray someone relenting to heartbreak and disappointment. Where did this song come from? How does this single sit alongside “Seesaw” and “That Far?” Do they all follow the same emotional arc?
“I Got Mine” is one of the more intimate songs on the record, which is funny because it's also one of the singles. It's about heartbreak and and getting over it and spiraling back into peace after a moment of turmoil.
There are a few overarching themes. One of them is "The Myth of the Ship of Theseus." [For] our first album, we were kind of obsessed with Sisyphus rolling the boulder up the hill every day and having to do it for all of eternity as punishment. There's less guilt on this record. The ship of Theseus was a really interesting myth or story for us, because the paradox is, if you replace every board on the ship to preserve it, after a while every board is new.
When we finally sat down to start making album two, we'd just been touring for three years straight. It was this relentless go-go-go up until we finally dropped the album. When we finally sat down after all that, we were like, wow, what a crazy crescendo that was. Well, the next logical step is just to do it all again.
Another thing that we were interested in writing about on this album was mythology, and these things have as much depth to them as something that can be so small and mundane in your everyday life. How the micro and the macro affect everyone so significantly. When you read a sentence in The Odyssey, you feel like whoever wrote it is making fun of you, like directly pointing the finger at you through the centuries.
There's so much of the sublime in the mundane, and that's where good lyricism and good poetry are meant to take you.
In the same way, you'll read the label on the back of a cereal box, and it just breaks you down into tears. That's why there's this mythology name-dropping throughout the record, but it's also countered with hyper-mundane ritual acts of everyday life.
The song where we literally say, ‘The Ship of Theseus’ is a song called “One by One.” The song is bookended by found sound. The sounds are just us at the beach on a vacation, so it's the most intimate and the most grand, meshed into one. I never even thought about that.


Are you the ones who choreograph your performances?
It's all self-taught because we don't have a dancing background at all. We just started dancing for the sake of this project, and it was an inside joke that went a little too far, and now we're working with choreographers. It was largely to just give us something to do on stage at first, and we were like, okay, what looks good? We do have a sort of visual arts component to this. Elliot's a filmmaker and a painter, and so that was the lens through which we looked at it.
We've done over 200 performances now, and also with the brother thing, we definitely have just a shared language and understanding of spatial awareness of each other by now.
What was the process of making this music? Is it similarly insular?
Our history with music-making is a little bit different because we've both been in bands and projects and making music for almost 20 years now. By the time we started the project, we were both coming from more traditional rock band backgrounds. When we started writing the songs that would become Faux Real together, we were like, let's forget everything we think we know about making music and just go purely off instinct. Because we're brothers, there was immediately some ease into what we were trying to say.
The insular nature of the start of Faux Real allowed us to experiment and find the sound that would become our first and then second records. So it was a necessary tunnel to go through in a way.
It’s kind of like that band, The Shaggs. They didn't really know how to play music or write songs, and [their dad] just had them rehearsing until they made a record, and it's so bizarre. The music sounds like nothing else you've ever heard because it's so disjointed. That's a big North Star for us.


What are your thoughts on nostalgia culture? Where does iteration versus inspiration come from?
I definitely have participated in musical projects that were revivalist in a way. As fun as it is and as niche as it is, I think that's something we tried to steer away from. Of course, our music's gonna be informed by our wealth of knowledge, and we know our classics. It's not that we're consciously trying to steer it into a modern direction; we're just interested in doing something that feels original to us, that feels fresh and new
I think generally speaking— and this has been a good and a bad thing for the project— is that every time we feel like we're doing something that sounds like that or looks like that one thing, we're like, nope.
When there's a reference, it's usually accompanied by another that offsets it or subverts it. I think that's kind of how we feel about nostalgia. It's a super powerful thing to draw from emotionally, but if you pursue it for its own sake, it kind of bites its own tail and stops being productive.
How do you balance emotional surety and closeness with satire in writing? Do you think it’s possible to satirize without a monoculture to speak to?
I think it's about dosage. A little bit is good; too much of it kind of spoils the fun. And I think an emotionally close song is heightened by self-awareness and sometimes self-deprecation in small doses.
I think even lacking a monoculture, because now everything is fragmented through the internet, it's like what I was saying about the philosopher talking to you through the centuries and making fun of you for not getting out of bed because you're sad. You still gotta get on with it. Everybody understands that. That's like, fundamentally human.
There's a degree of self-awareness and us poking fun at certain things that we do knowingly, and it's just part of the language. In the stories we tell, there's always that element of, what if we threw a pun in this song that’s about something really dark? It's not something you necessarily pick up on the first time you listen, and then the second time you listen, you're like, wait. I think there's a lot of flavor there.
