Shifting her focus from the guitar-led songwriting that birthed so many of Sunflower Bean's biggest moments to creating tracks sat behind a piano, following in the footsteps of her foundation idols Dionne Warwick and Burt Bacharach, Julia was able to unfurl a new perspective on her process that quickly helped her to discover the vulnerable, nostalgic, and effortless direction of this new album. 

"Once I wrote 'My Life' – which is a song I don't think I'll ever get to write again, it's not the kind of thing you say twice – I was like, 'Oh, fuck, ok the moment's here'. I'd always wanted to write a melody like that, but hadn't ever done it like that.

"Switching to piano really opened up my mind and what I could do there. Once that was made clear to me, I just started writing in my house in New York on the piano I'd grown up with and just started chipping away."

In amongst her newfound discovery, one she kept to herself for a long time – "when people know you in a particular way, it takes a lot of convincing for them to see you in a new light" – she also took on the small task of writing for Sunflower Bean's 'Mortal Primetime' and the subsequent deluxe record. 

While the heavy riffs and malevolent vibe of 'Mortal Primetime' certainly doesn't work its way onto 'Julia', hints of that new Bean era are peppered across her solo work, for example the languid style of 'Shooting Star' is mirrored in 'Please Let Me Remember This', while the delectable aggression of 'Fucking Closure' provides something of a throwback to the mid-2010s roots of Julia's first steps into the band.

Really, though, the sound is much broader, more delicate, presenting old-world influences in a way that still retains an element of innovation. The record may be more Beach Boys than Black Sabbath, but it's far from a pale imitation thereof.

Julia, thinking back to her inspirations for this new chapter, says: "There are a ton of these piano-driven ballads, but there are also so many parts of the record that are really inspired by Steely Dan, Björk, Stevie Wonder or just yacht rock. It goes to a lot of different places, and I'm excited for the world to discover that too."

She adds, "I'm a big music nerd, so it was really fun to have like this Dionne Warwick thing as the seed and then see where we could take it. Like 'Revel in the Knowledge' is such a special song on the record because it's structurally really interesting; it's Stereolab-y, it's fun, it's upbeat, but it's also quite math rock as well. I was making these discoveries, and it was one of the greatest joys of my life."

To keep finding new parts of the art that intrigue and inspire after 17 years of making music is no small feat, and one that Julia knows full well is not a given. Part of the reason that a solo debut album took so long to materialise was that she simply wasn't ready to do it, musically or personally. 

"I've always been in love with the journey of making music and to take down the fences that other people or I put up, to give myself the chance to think beyond them. But this was like being born again.

"I think there's a bunch of places on this record where I'm shaking off others' ideas of me. Over time, you believe what you choose to believe in, what the world is reinforcing about you, because that's easier than trying to figure out who you actually are. I mean, it's taken me 30 years. It feels like a fucking long time, but at the same time, I feel like a baby again."

As much as 'My Life' could be construed as a withering attack on the people – let's face it, the men – who insisted on nailing her into a box and refusing to let her break free from it, with 'Emotional Labor' and 'Hollywood Communication' equally tearing down the flaws of both herself and former partners who couldn't look beyond the superficial, the album isn't meant as an exercise of distributing damning verdicts. 

It's about the human condition in all its joyous highs – 'Please Let Me Remember This', 'Fucking Closure' (kind of) – and crushing lows, as well as the more universal everyday mundanity. In many ways, this is why the album couldn't be called anything but 'Julia'. 

"I don't want the record to feel like I was writing out of a place of blame, pointing at the world and saying, 'You said this, and that made me mad' because that's not interesting; it's shallow and not the truth."

She continues, "[For the title] I wanted something that could encompass the record while not overshadowing it and could give people a chance to really let it come to them and to see it as a nuanced body of work, kind of like a human being is, like a person is. So, calling it 'Julia' – hopefully it will capture the nuance that the record holds."

This nuance also envelopes some of the more offbeat, left-of-centre thoughts that make Julia who she is, brought to life with her collaborators Brian Robert Jones and Chris Coady. By keeping the record under wraps until she knew the time was right, it allowed the three of them to work out ideas which needed to be curated and controlled.

 "I was able to really sculpt it for years," Julia recalls, "and that's when I think we got some of the more experimental songs that I really love, like 'Do It All Again' or 'I Dream Of A Fire That Stays Burning When Nobody Tends It' – which is just a bizarre song, really.

"I remember working on it and being like, 'Is this even a song? What the hell are we doing?', but we kept it hanging in the air and then suddenly it all came together. Those more abstract moments are so important."

She adds, "I also didn't want the album to sound vintage; I didn't want it to sound 70s in the recording. We were trying to honour a particular process of classic songwriting, but it needed to be hi-fi. I want it to meet people as something classic that also felt very fresh and very modern, and I think we've been able to do that."

By exploring not only these new sonic and melodic avenues but also becoming more intimately acquainted with suppressed thoughts and untapped emotion, Julia now finds herself the strongest version of herself she's ever been. Through making a home within the ugliness of showing unburdened truth, the sky is the limit for any and all future expeditions. 

"I feel that this has made me a stronger artist," she states, "and by being a stronger artist, I can be a better bandmate, I can be a better writer in every situation that I'm in."

"If you're going to be a songwriter, you have to explore yourself. You have to heal yourself. You have to talk to your subconscious. You have to look around in some really ugly places. It's a really upsetting experience sometimes – sometimes these words come out, and you're like, 'Oh my God, I can't believe I feel this way'.

"But I think that if you want to try to get to the good stuff, you have to have a method to access the stuff you have to say. Preparing yourself emotionally and psychologically as much as you're preparing the music: those things have to go together for you to actually be ready."

On the precipice of beginning this new era wholeheartedly, ready to bring this new perspective to fans across the world, any fear she may understandably have about bearing her soul in as raw a way as she ever has before has instead been replaced by excitement.

"I love making music so much and trying to bring it to people; it's a very pure process and a very pure relationship that I really, really love. This record contains so many parts of my soul that I was not able to reach before, so it's enthralling to see how that lands with people."

She concludes: "It's the ultimate oxymoron: finally making something that has followed my purest interests and seeing if I could supercharge it. It just set me free. Anything that happens now is the icing on top of the icing on top of the cake." ■

Taken from the May 2026 issue of Dork. Julia Cumming's album 'Julia' is out 24th April.