In conversation
w/ ALIX DO

JANUARY 5, 2024 → WORDS ANDREI ZOZULYA-DAVIDOV
PHOTOGRAPHY KRAAPS STYLING SAN SEBASTIAN HAIR & MAKE-UP VENUS HERMITANT
STYLING ASSISTANT KEEM DVH PRODUCTION PATRICK CLARK FOR DIVERGENCE STUDIO

Grab a coffee, get cozy, and join us as we catch up with ALIX DO, the cool new name in avant-pop. This French-Italian singer-songwriter, who first turned heads with ‘Ali + The Stolen Boy’, has just released ‘Love Dealer’, the first single from his upcoming album, ‘This Is Not A Love Story’. We chat with ALIX about everything from his eclectic influences to the deeply personal stories behind his songs. So, sit back, relax, and get ready for some insights into the world of ALIX DO, where avant-pop gets a fresh and exciting twist. Let’s dive in!

Your debut single “Love Dealer” has been described as an exploration of love as a drug. Can you elaborate on what inspired this concept and how you integrated it into the song?

It always kicks off with a feeling; it’s like a physical thing, most of the time a desire for something. I don’t write music when I’m happy or satisfied. You can only desire something you haven’t got or haven’t experienced yet. Love is made by downers and desires, like drugs. You want to get on a high, then you’re back to dealing with loss, facing your demons. Love doesn’t have an objective reality. I took risks; I wanted it to be intense. Desire is not an abstract thing; it’s like a chemical reaction to something you’re searching for. I was walking in the streets of Paris, hunting for those intense sensations to fill my body. My lover wasn’t around; I was just waiting and waiting for him to show up, to reassure me, to dive into that excitement and joy that love sparks. But he never turned up. I felt like I was waiting for my dealer, you know? So, I put my headphones on and started singing to the beat I made at home, and the song came together just like this. I often sing or talk to myself when I want to tell something to someone who doesn’t want to listen or who’s not there. That's where most of my music comes from. I don’t care about being strong and independent when it comes to love. Love’s got its dose of dependency, like drugs, and it’s okay. I feel more like Amy Winehouse, showing her broken heart and how love messed up her mind, rather than Beyoncé calling to be strong independent women - and men. I don’t run the world; I go back to black and pour it all into a song. Most times, I’m like: Fuck it, I’m going to love you whatever that means.

Going into that metaphor and particularly the kind of love you’ve experienced, what would be the comparable IRL drug if any?

MDMA in a Berlin club, losing yourself to the beats of techno trance—absolutely. Hands up, shaping the air, with lights and music creating an extraordinary vibe. You can feel it coursing through your body, a sense of freedom and happiness, a grin plastered on your face. You’re connected to everything—objects, spaces, people. It’s like living in a bohemian fantasy, hues of pink and lime green, and when you close your eyes, you can follow the vivid images that emerge. That, for me, is what love is. It’s a long trip, riding waves of euphoria, but it comes with its share of lows. It’s potent, filled with joy and pleasure. Then you go back to your place and find yourself wondering if he’ll still love you tomorrow.

“Most times, I’m like: Fuck it, I’m going to love you whatever that means.”

Your upcoming album “This Is Not A Love Story”, was written during a tumultuous time in your romantic life. How did these personal experiences shape the overall theme and sound of the album?

I wanted the album to be a direct imprint of what I was going through. I meticulously selected beats and sounds, almost obsessively crafted what I envisioned as a conceptual album. Working with my producer, Pascoe, in Berlin, we delved into finding the right elements and mood. In real life, I’m an open book, and I wanted to lay it all out in this album. No lies. There’s all my fears and energy, my hopes and my ways of navigating the world, both as an artist and as an individual. I process my life by hitting the club and dancing, so that aspect is also woven into the album. Some tracks delve into my personal and familial history—the loss of my brother, the migrations within my family’s past across France, Italy, Germany, and Brazil. Others touch on the pressures of fame and making it in the industry. Then there are those expressing my longing to hold onto someone slipping away, saying, “Everything will be alright, don’t go, take my hands, let’s hit the club together.” I aimed to cast an emotional lens on reality, whether what I’m singing is political, financial, or personal, and my romantic life and the crisis I was undergoing became pivotal in the songwriting process. It’s an emotional, raw album. Whether it’s a love story or not, well, that’s for you to decide.

You’ve been praised for blending diverse musical influences. Which artists or genres had the most significant impact on your sound for this album? Particularly within the rap/hip-hop genres.

I listen to a lot of UK bass and rap, as well as French rap, but I don’t do rap; I’m just trying to make good pop music, I think, with some lyrics and beats where I’m flirting with hip-hop and rap. Artists like Serpentwithfeet, Sevdaliza, Little Simz, Alewya, FKA Twigs, and Woodkid are all sources of inspiration for me. I could go on listing names for hours because I genuinely listen to a wide range of good music. The album features both French and English, and there’s a strong French vibe in the melodies. Diam’s was crucial to me; I listened to her songs when I was young, but I truly discovered her later in life, and it was revolutionary. She broke the rules of rap, hip-hop, and pop music in France and paved the way for a lot of the music we write today. In the French rap scene, I admire Shay and Tiakola. However, I’m eclectic and curious when it comes to music. I might sample traditional Mediterranean music that reminds me of popular lullabies my grandmother from the South of Italy used to sing, blending it with hip-hop beats and French lyrics inspired by my daily experiences in the streets of Paris.

Your previous project was called Ali + The Stolen Boy, could you tell me more about that transition, would you consider ALIX DO more as an alter-ego or a completely different project?

ALIX DO is like the snake shedding the skin of Ali + The Stolen Boy after its molt. Ali + The Stolen Boy had a collective vibe in its writing and themes. I’m naturally a bit shy, yet I thrive on stepping out of my comfort zone. ALIX DO is simply my name, signifying the moment when I chose to stop hiding behind group names, projects, or references. It marks the time when I decided to lay bare my personal and intimate experiences through my music.

The track “La Honte” (Shame) is highlighted in your upcoming album. Can you share the story or inspiration behind this particular track? Is it a nudge to the homonymous Steve McQueen movie?

I’ve never thought about that, but I love Steve McQueen, and I remember being really into the film with Michael Fassbender doing his thing. It’s about sex, I think. Addiction to sex? “La Honte”, on the other hand, is all about an addiction to fighting. Sometimes, you find yourself just scrapping because it’s easier than facing up to the real issues that mess up the love between two people. And trust me, war’s easier than kindness. I wrote that song (“La Honte”) during this crazy 13-hour fight marathon with my ex. We just needed some reassurance and love, but we ended up duking it out. We should have had sex instead of fighting. Sounds stupid, but sex between us was already messed up by then. I was addicted to random sex with people I met on Grindr, like a lot of us in the gay community, and he was addicted to fear and shame, struggling to put his desires out there, rejecting me and lying to me. We got stuck in this messed-up loop of power games, frustrations, and fears, kind of like the character in the movie. You actually made me want to watch the movie again.

“I wrote that song (“La Honte”) during this mad 13-hour fight marathon with my ex. We just needed some reassurance and love, but we ended up duking it out. We should have had sex instead of fighting.”

Your work has been linked to iconic artists like Nina Simone and Billie Holiday, as well as contemporary artists like James Blake and FKA Twigs. How do you balance these varied influences while maintaining your unique style?

I don’t know. It’s all instinct. I’m not sitting there thinking, “What genre am I making?” I reckon there’s something pop in my project, though. It’s written to reach a broad crowd, different people, from very different backgrounds. I definitely don’t want to conform to anything and don’t want to be told what to do. So, I just soak in all sorts of music that vibes with me. When I’m feeling low, I listen to Nina Simone. ‘Caprisongs’ by FKA Twigs is the album I listened to while having sex. Billie Holiday is like an old friend I chat with in the morning or late at night, and James Blake kicks in when I’m going pro and aiming to make some solid tunes out of my experiences. I like to think of my body as this machine that takes in all the tunes I’m into and re-injects them back into reality in a new form. To create good music you need good taste. And an unapologetic attitude without taking yourself too seriously. That’s the key for me, I think.

What message or feeling do you hope listeners take away from “This Is Not A Love Story” and what are the singles we can expect before the release?

I’m always very excited when I listen to or perform one of my songs, no matter the emotion it’s packing. Music is a proper cathartic ride, you know. You can close your eyes, dance it out, or just let the tears flow. My hope is that people get a kick out of it, use my music as a backdrop for their own stories—throw in some words and sounds to match what they’re going through. I’m not pushing any specific messages, but the album’s vibe is like: no matter how out of place you feel, just enjoy it, push through, and let your stuff out. No holding back. We’ve got two more songs dropping before the album hits in March—one in January and another in February. DSL - that means Désolé, the word for Sorry in French - is the next single, set to release during the next Paris Fashion Week in January, and it’s on a whole different vibe.