Gold Coast/Sydney musician Erin Foster has just released her second single, Sometimes, and it’s a track that is for those who dream of love, but don’t quite go about chasing it in reality. It’s a song for the dreamers and one that I think a lot of people will be able to relate to - especially if you love electro-pop!

I spoke to Erin about the track, as well as how she’s found being an independent musician in an increasingly commercialised world. It’s a really illuminating chat for anyone looking to get into the music industry, so read on to learn about Erin’s journey!

Ben Madden: Firstly, can you introduce yourself and your music?

Erin Foster: Hey, I’m a self-produced musician from the Gold Coast, Australia. I’ve been writing and producing electronic music since I was a teenager. I’d describe my style of production as glamorous and euphoric, even when my lyrics are recurrently centred around themes of uncertainty and loneliness. When I’m not writing or performing my own music you will find me working, studying at uni or just hanging with my two dogs, Bambi and Ellie.

You’ve just released your new single, Sometimes – can you tell me the story behind the track?

Shortly after the pandemic began last year, I had to relocate from the Gold Coast to Sydney due to an unfortunate change of circumstance. It was winter at the time, absolutely freezing (at least with my low blood pressure) and I was spending every night at a music rehearsal studio in Marrickville where I had some temporary work operating the studio and locking up at the end of the day. Often musicians would play well into the night, with some even playing into the early hours of the morning. This wasn’t unusual for the music industry.

At the time I was lucky enough to have my own studio upstairs which I’d retreat to after the bands had settled in for their session. I painted the walls pink and made the studio my own. Still, I was often grieving my former lifestyle in the Gold Coast and the people I had come to know and love. The song is about one friend in particular and that missed connection. The song talks about this idea of love existing in a bubble, rather than in the real world.

Can you talk to me about how you find that applies in your personal life, and was the song inspired by any particular situations?

I wrote this one night at work when I had some time to retreat to my studio. I was reflecting on how my mind goes back to that person and those places, even when there‘s a whole other world in front of me, which is what the chorus really emphasises. The first verse reflects on the reality of my situation, whereas the second verse is more of a fantasy of what could have been. Then there is a moment of self-awareness when I say, ‘I know I’m so out of my mind’ because I can’t live in my memories forever. I actually have an alternative version of this song of which I will be including on my debut album. It’s not as edgy, not even a bit. Instead it captures the warmth of summer in the Gold Coast and the melancholy of a daydream.

The lyrics speak to this idea of feeling self-critical when self-indulging. Is this something that you’ve battled with, and how do you push through that to ensure you’re taking care of yourself when you know you need it?

I often feel guilty for indulging in memories, as I’ve always been someone who ruminates and puts too much emphasis on past events. A lot of days I battle with rumination, and creating music is an outlet for me because I don’t feel limited by how I’m “supposed” to think or feel. I definitely find solace in writing music; I only wish I could feel that balanced all of the time.

You mention in your bio that as an independent artist, you fund your own music career (like many do). I’m always curious to learn more about how you think this impacts your art, so can you talk to me about that?

I truly have an appreciation for any musician who funds their own projects. It certainly is not easy and often a lot slower than ideal. I really do have a self-sufficient ethos though. I control everything from the production of my tracks to the aesthetics of my image, which is easily attributed to the fact that I produce my own music, manage all my communications and edit my own photos, graphics and videos. I’m proud of my ability to work within economic limitations, and I’ve grown so much as a result. I now get to see a poster I designed plastered all across Sydney cafes and outlets, which is fun. It’s also a lot easier working by myself.

Like everything in the music industry, there’s a lot of ego around it. A lot of times when I would work with others on songs or visuals, people would try to influence my direction, take credit for it and then take offence if I didn’t comply. For me, being ‘indie’ just means finding ways to get stuff done. Like I mentioned earlier, I still work part-time in a rehearsal studio which helps pay my bills but also keeps me connected to the industry and to other artists. In terms of how it impacts my art, I feel that I get a better, more authentic result. What you hear is what I wanted you to hear, with no industry bullshit getting in the way!

You’ve got Canadian heritage, and you mention that you grew up in a rural area. How do you think that idea of isolation has inspired your music, and do you find yourself reflecting on that period of your life when you’re writing?

I always reflect of that time of my life. I spent a lot of time in regional NSW. My house was more than 1 hour from the nearest town and I was home schooled. I must admit that I had a tough and lonely time as a teenager, so things were not easy. Music was my escape. I am a self-taught musician mostly because I had no other way to learn. As a teenager I would spend hundreds of hours working out melodies and penning lyrics. The upside is that now I am a professional musician and I have literally hundreds of demos that I can call upon for content and inspiration.

You’ve also made music under other names, which I wanted to ask about. What lessons have you learnt from those times, and how have they carried through into tracks like Sometimes?

Like most musicians I have tried a few different approaches. When I was 17, I would play at pubs with my guitar and email zip files of my ‘EP’ at the time, which was quite literally just me and my guitar recorded at Sydney TAFE. I’m still proud that I did that, because everyone must start somewhere. My first attempt at professionally releasing music was under the name First Birthday For Kitty, which was when I was 19. Then I worked on a bunch of guitar pop tracks with a producer mate and I learnt loads about recording and producing, which birthed my most recent former project, Karamilk. With Karamilk I started to get some industry attention.

I had some Triple J play and one track was the most played single in 2019 on 4ZZZ radio in Brisbane. Now, I’m no longer performing incognito or under some artificial stage name. It took some strength to put my real name to my work and put my face to my music because I used to hide a lot, and part of me still wants to hide. Perhaps I’m just a bit more confident now that I’ve faced a few trials and tribulations. My production is the best it’s ever been and I’m the most willing I’ve ever been to put my real self forward.

READ MORE: INTERVIEW: Chris Lanzon On Embracing Imperfection In Music & Life

Finally, what are your next few steps, both personally and music-wise?

Personally, I’ve been in Sydney for about the past year. I am now heading back to the Gold Coast permanently, just waiting for the lease to run out. I can’t wait to get to my new house and setup a killer home studio. Professionally, I have loads of material queued up for release and I am working on my debut album. It was going to be an EP, but I think an LP may be warranted. Or one of those EP’s that are 1 minute from being an LP. I am attempting to be strategic about when I release my tracks, with COVID coming and going so often it is really risky planning tours at the moment. But I’ll find a way, there’s never a lack of motivation.

You can follow Erin on Facebook here, Instagram here and Twitter here.