RUPERT LEONARD | INTERVIEW + TRACK REVIEW
- 1 day ago
- 6 min read
Electronic music often asks you to lose yourself. Rupert Leonard asks you to find yourself somewhere inside the noise.
On the surface, onetwentyfive is an atmospheric, club-driven electronic track, pulsing with momentum and restless energy. But beneath its textured production lies something far more personal. Inspired by Rupert’s experience with psychosis, the song explores perception, delusion and the unsettling feeling that the world is speaking in codes. It’s a record that thrives on ambiguity, inviting listeners to experience uncertainty rather than resolve it.
What makes onetwentyfive particularly compelling is its refusal to choose between movement and introspection. It can soundtrack a packed dancefloor just as naturally as it can accompany a solitary 2am headphone listen. Built around tension instead of release, the track blurs the line between producer and storyteller, proving that electronic music can carry emotional weight without ever sacrificing its physical impact.
In this conversation, Rupert opens up about perfectionism, dopamine, psychosis, virality, and why some stories are better felt than fully understood. Rather than offering easy answers, onetwentyfive encourages listeners to sit with uncertainty, embracing the discomfort until it becomes something strangely beautiful.
TRACK REVIEW -
onetwentyfive immediately paints a picture in my mind. It feels like wandering through a tranquil Japanese garden, except everything exists in a futuristic, sci-fi world. That’s always a sign of great production to me. The music creates such a vivid sense of place that you can’t help but visualise yourself inside it. It’s peaceful yet mysterious, constantly inviting you to look a little closer at what’s happening beneath the surface.
The track moves with a cruisy confidence, balancing vibrant electronic textures with an underlying sense of curiosity. I particularly loved the filtered, radio-style vocals, which add another layer of atmosphere without taking away from the emotion of the song. The production is exceptional throughout, especially when the drums evolve and shift, subtly changing the energy without ever breaking the spell. onetwentyfive isn’t built around huge moments or obvious drops. Instead, it rewards patience, gradually immersing the listener in a world that feels equal parts beautiful, futuristic and emotionally restless.
“The title onetwentyfive feels oddly specific, almost like a code or a measurement. What does that number represent emotionally, and why was it important to leave it unexplained?”
It took me a while to decide on the right title for this track. I needed it to not only represent the song itself, but also coexist with the narrative being created throughout my extended play. It was originally going to be called Oxenfree, but I eventually decided that a title like onetwentyfive fit the mood a lot better. It looks good on Spotify, and it’s also the first line in the chorus, which makes it memorable. Oxenfree is now the title of a different song on the EP.
Describing it as a code is exactly what I had envisioned. During psychosis, I experienced a lot of delusions that projected the illusion of life being a code. Everything people said, created and shared was interpreted as a hidden hint rather than something direct.
Also, fun fact: the song is 125 beats per minute.
“You describe the song as existing between urgency and reflection. Do you think modern life has made it harder for people to tell the difference between genuine momentum and simply moving too fast?”
Absolutely. This era of media is designed to capture people’s attention. Everything is being shortened and dramatised to accommodate people’s increasingly short attention spans.
I believe it’s why Gen Z is struggling to produce breakout artists with real longevity. The attention people receive from becoming a breakout star is often valued more than maintaining that success. Virality is a short-lived experience. You can’t be a breakout artist forever. People always want the next thing.
It’s one of the reasons it has taken me six years to release my music, despite gaining most of my followers back in 2020. I’ve put a huge amount of research and effort into transitioning from an unhinged TikTok creator into an artist.
It also applies to everyday life. People’s attention spans are getting shorter. In the words of Beyoncé, I think people actually want long-form media. We just have to accept the challenge of making something compelling enough to hold their attention.
Also… amazing question.
“A lot of electronic music is built for the body, while singer-songwriter music is often built for the mind. Your work seems determined to make both happen at the same time. Was that balance something you consciously chased?”
It was created out of a need to release music. I love vocal production, but I’m a perfectionist when it comes to my art. That has its upsides, but it has also made me incredibly critical of my own vocals.
I’ve learnt to love my voice. I’ve just had to learn how to use it.
This project was something I wanted to share, but I wasn’t ready to tell the story with my own voice. It’s my story, and I hope people who have experienced the same torture of the mind find comfort in it.
“The track feels like it’s constantly pushing forward, but underneath there’s a sense of someone trying to keep up with their own emotions. Were you documenting a specific period of your life, or exploring a more universal feeling?”
It’s made to be misunderstood.
The song is constantly pushing forward because there’s a desire to be understood, but there will never be a complete understanding. It’s all fiction and tricks of the mind.
I’m so happy that feeling came across to you. It tells me those inner experiences have been successfully documented within this record.
“As both a songwriter and producer, do you ever find those two sides of yourself arguing with each other? One wanting emotional honesty, the other wanting sonic perfection?”
Absolutely.
I am a songwriter, but I didn’t actually write most of the material on this project. That’s where the producer side of me really took over.
I found sonic perfection, but unfortunately I couldn’t find a place for my own voice within it. That’s honestly one of the biggest reasons I’ve delayed releasing so much music over the years.
After making this record, though, I realised I didn’t need my own voice to tell this story. My psychosis manifested itself through perception, and that’s something I couldn’t have expressed directly anyway.
“There’s something fascinating about music that makes people dance while quietly confronting something personal. Do you think vulnerability becomes easier to process when it’s hidden inside movement?”
To a certain degree.
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OutKast famously explored this idea on Hey Ya! (Banger, by the way.)
A friend of mine, Aria, pointed out that dancing can distract you from the true experience. But I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. That’s life.
When you’re finally ready to sit with your emotions, returning to the song allows you to process its genuine meaning.
“Your sound feels cinematic without relying on obvious storytelling. When you’re producing, are you visualising scenes, emotions, or physical sensations first?”
Physical sensations always come first.
I can’t help myself from bopping my head or dancing whenever I hear something that triggers that dopamine response. When I’m producing, I’m constantly moving.
I think that’s really important because those physical reactions are your brain responding naturally to the music. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about, and researching, how music triggers dopamine.
“Electronic music often chases bigger drops and louder moments. onetwentyfive feels more interested in tension than release. What is it about anticipation that fascinates you creatively?”
Anticipation creates space for creativity.
Without a definite answer, your mind has to create one for itself. Some people find that frustrating, but that’s exactly what I want them to feel.
During psychosis there were moments of joy, but there was also a lot of frustration. If even a small part of that emotional experience translates into my music, I’ll be grateful.
“The idea of emotional pacing runs throughout the track. Do you think people today are losing the ability to sit with emotions before immediately trying to escape, analyse, or optimise them?”
I don’t think so.
Separating your behaviour from your emotions is a skill, and like any skill, it has to be taught. In a world where so many people face disadvantage, not everyone gets the opportunity to learn how to regulate or harness those emotions.
I’m still learning myself. I’ve had nights where I’ve reacted poorly because of my emotions.
That’s what this project is really about. Creating something I identify with artistically and emotionally has genuinely helped me. I hope everyone gets to experience that feeling. Everyone deserves it.
“If someone hears onetwentyfive alone at 2am and then hears it again in a packed club six months later, what do you hope feels different and what do you hope feels exactly the same?”
I hope that at 2am they feel the same anxiety I felt while making this song. The curiosity mixed with the fear.
At the club? Well, whatever DJ is playing it better be telling people to shake ass. It’s a club, for f*ck’s sake.
Dance. Release your anger. Release your mind.
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