DUXIE FRANKLIN | INTERVIEW + TRACK REVIEW
- 4 hours ago
- 5 min read
Some artists write songs to entertain. Duxie Franklin writes them to endure.
Her latest single, After the Storm, is a powerful reflection on chronic pain, mental health and the quiet resilience required to keep moving through life’s darkest moments. Wrapped in sweeping ’80s-inspired production and striking Australian Gothic visuals, the song balances theatrical beauty with emotional honesty, never allowing one to overshadow the other. Every frame of the accompanying music video, from the windswept coastline to the handmade costume crafted from fabric her grandmother had kept for decades, feels deeply considered and intensely personal.
What makes Duxie’s work so compelling is that her creativity refuses to stay within one medium. Music, filmmaking, visual art, costume design and jewellery all become part of the same artistic language, allowing each project to grow into something far larger than a song alone. We caught up with Duxie Franklin to discuss chronic pain, healing, creativity, and why sometimes the calm that follows the storm can be just as challenging as the storm itself.
TRACK REVIEW -
After the Storm opens with an ominous sense of anticipation, immediately pulling you into Duxie Franklin’s world before a single chorus has arrived. The bass tone is one of my favourite elements throughout the track. It’s warm, crisp and perfectly restrained, allowing every instrument to breathe while quietly driving the song forward. The first half feels like it’s constantly building towards something bigger, mirroring the emotional tension woven through the lyrics before the chorus finally breaks the clouds.
What impressed me most is how every production choice serves the story. As the drums open up after the first chorus, the song gains another layer of intensity without ever becoming overblown. Duxie’s vocal performance carries both vulnerability and quiet strength, while lyrics like “The aftershock of violence hangs shaking through the air” and “After the storm comes the calm” capture the exhausting reality of surviving difficult moments rather than simply enduring them. It’s cinematic without losing its intimacy, balancing sweeping ‘80s-inspired production with deeply personal songwriting. After the Storm doesn’t just tell you what healing feels like. It invites you to sit inside it.
INSTAGRAM https://www.instagram.com/duxiefrankl...
FACEBOOK / duxiefranklin
WEBSITE http://duxiefranklin.com/
SPOTIFY https://spoti.fi/2Sr0bHc
APPLE MUSIC https://apple.co/2vyMpsW
How does living with chronic pain change the way you experience time? Does songwriting become a form of escape from the body, or a way of understanding it more deeply?
I suppose when I’m in pain, it can seem like things drag on forever and there’s no escape. At times when I’m in my element, doing something I love, the pain fades into the background and I can be fully present in the moment.
Songwriting definitely helps me process things in my life in general. It’s an amazing way to express my thoughts, feelings and ideas.
The imagery throughout After the Storm feels almost physical, with references to violence, aftershocks, stained carpets and emotional debris. Were these metaphors carefully crafted, or did they arrive naturally from lived experience?
They could be described as metaphors, but they feel pretty real too, to be honest! Every lyric is from lived experience with a touch of poetic licence. Maybe I feel emotions more extremely than other people, but the words I’ve written are actually authentic for me.
You designed and sewed the dress for the video using fabric your grandmother had kept for nearly thirty years. Do you think there is something powerful about creating new art from materials that already carry history and memory?
Good question! I’m not sure if fabric really has a soul and memories… but I know that my Oma (grandmother) and mother sure do. Therefore, for me it’s more about the joy of using this piece of fabric that, for so long, had no purpose.
Having my own enormous collection of fabric, I know how long materials can sit around before they finally get used, so I like to imagine my Oma being surprised and delighted at seeing this ugly black cheesecloth finally finding its purpose in After the Storm.
Many people write about surviving difficult periods, but After the Storm feels more interested in what comes afterwards. Why do you think we spend so much time preparing people for the storm itself, but rarely talk about learning to live in the calm?
I guess the calm doesn’t need any particular coping strategies.
It can be a really important time, though, to heal, to learn from your experiences and maybe prepare better for future storms.
There is a theatrical quality running through your music and visuals, yet the emotions underneath feel incredibly raw and personal. How do you decide when to lean into performance and when to leave a wound completely exposed?
I think over time I’ve become more open in both my music and what I share of myself.
I love the performance and theatrical aspect of making music, and I hope I’ll always retain that. But the wounds and emotions are what give the music life. Without them, it’s hard to write songs that feel important and meaningful.
I guess it really depends on the song. You’ve got to find the balance between where it’s fun and performative, and where you can simply let the words speak for themselves.
Your work stretches across music, film, visual art, costume design and jewellery. Do all these disciplines serve different parts of your creativity, or are they really different languages telling the same story?
All my art forms are so different!
Of course they overlap, and I draw on skills from multiple disciplines, but I enjoy the variety. I couldn’t imagine not being visually artistic through painting, drawing, design and craft. And I couldn’t imagine not sewing, now that I do that too.
Sometimes it feels like the music is simply a vehicle for the art.
The song carries a message of endurance without ever feeling overly optimistic. Do you think hope is something people find, or something they have to actively build for themselves during difficult periods?
I can’t speak for others, but for me, hope and resilience are things I’ve had to build.
Nobody can give them to you on a silver platter, and even if they could, they probably wouldn’t mean as much because they have to come from within.
Maybe writing and releasing a song like After the Storm is my own way of building hope and resilience.
Artists like Kate Bush and Björk are often celebrated for creating entirely self-contained worlds. When people step into the world of Duxie Franklin, what do you hope feels different from everyday life?
The magical world of Duxie Franklin!
It’s all about expression, joy, fun, frivolity and, most of all, feelings. I hope it feels like people are going on a journey, that I’m taking them through something with me.
A peek into the bizarre wilderness of my mind!
The phrase “after the storm comes the calm” sounds comforting on paper, but many people struggle when the chaos finally disappears. Was there a point in your own journey where peace felt unfamiliar or even uncomfortable?
I definitely feel uncomfortable if I’m not doing something productive. I can struggle to relax and unwind.
In principle though, I think peace is great. The time when peace comes after the storm is when it’s important to reflect on the events of the “storm” (whatever that may be for each of us individually) and think about how best to manage it in the future, or even mitigate it if possible.
If someone discovers After the Storm while sitting in the middle of their own personal storm, what is the one thing you hope they carry away with them?
I never have premeditated ideas about what I want people to get from my music or art. Honestly, I’m just happy if they hear it!
My focus is to be satisfied with my own creations because there’s no way of guaranteeing outcomes or impact in this industry. It’s subjective, after all.
If people get anything from After the Storm, I hope they can relate to going through a storm of their own, and that it gives them some hope for the recovery that comes afterwards.
Comments