Julia Stone is calling from Australia, which is fitting, because at this point it seems like the entire continent has mounted a quiet invasion of American airwaves. “I don’t know,” she says, laughing at the idea. “Australia’s always had an interesting music culture… but it probably just felt so far away before. Now, with the internet and cheap flights, it’s easier to share.” Translation: we finally figured out how to get to your festivals without going broke or vanishing into a koala sanctuary.
Stone and her brother Angus recently returned with Snow, a record that—despite the icy title—features a sunny cover photo and songs that feel like they were written on the back porch of a surf shack. “We came up with the name after a trip to Switzerland,” she explains, casually dropping that they’d been snowboarding before starting the record. “We hadn’t done that—just hung out and had fun—for a long time. And the conversations about making a new album started while we were gliding down hills. Well, sometimes falling down them.”
The album was built on the farm, in a studio they assembled themselves, with no producer breathing down their necks and one magical $150 organ leading the charge. “We found it in a local newspaper,” Stone says, still charmed. “It had all these dinky old beats—bossa nova, waltz, maybe twelve total. But we’d just turn one on and start jamming. Angus says it became the sixth member of the band.” It’s the kind of origin story most bands would fabricate just to sound cooler.
That relaxed approach is a far cry from their earliest days, when working together as siblings was, well, complicated. “It wasn’t natural for us,” she admits. “Being in our twenties, moving away from home, and trying to navigate not just the industry, but our own relationship... it was a lot.” The kind of “a lot” that usually ends with one sibling throwing a shoe and the other writing a passive-aggressive solo album. But not here. “Now we’ve found a place with mutual respect, and we’re proud of ourselves for still standing. Still standing next to each other,” she laughs. “No one hates anyone.”
Of course, the whole thing wouldn’t be complete without a nod to the Chateau Marmont, that cursed palace of Hollywood myth, immortalized here in the track “Chateau.” “We were in a hotel room, dancing,” Stone says, grinning through the memory. “And it’s one of my favorite things—being in love, being in a new place, dancing in the hotel room. That line was something I’d always wanted to sing.” As for the Chateau itself? “We’ve had good nights there. And yeah, it’s rich in history—artists, directors, musicians getting lost… not always in a good way.”
Julia's voice is calm, thoughtful, a little wry—like someone who’s watched the storm from the comfort of a cozy window seat. Snow may be their most adventurous record, but it’s also the one that feels like they finally figured out how to breathe as a duo. “It’s definitely different for us,” she says. “But it’s fun to play live. Really fun.”
And maybe that’s all you can ask for: a record born from a fall down a snowy mountain, stitched together by a junk-shop organ, and held aloft by two siblings who stopped trying to be perfect and just started listening.
Listen to the interview above and then check out "Chateau" below!
