JULESY Is Ready To Flip The Bed
- Josh Kitchen
- 1 day ago
- 6 min read
By: Josh Kitchen / October 16, 2025
"These songs represent a period I was growing out of; I could feel myself changing, and I needed to release them before moving on," the emerging Brooklyn-based alt-indie singer/songwriter JULESY told me about her debut LP, Flip The Bed. At just eight tracks and under half an hour, Flip The Bed offers a glimpse into an artist in metamorphosis. Her first EP, The Current Self, was aptly named—recorded as JULESY was graduating college and starting her professional life in the midst of COVID lockdowns. The evolution between that project and Flip The Bed is as impressive as it is revelatory. On Flip The Bed, we hear an artist who’s found her voice—confident yet vulnerable, raw yet refined—especially on tracks like “Blue Lie” and “Michael Gibson.” I caught up with JULESY to talk about the new record, the power of writing through pain, what she’s been listening to, and more.
Your feature debut, Flip The Bed is out this week - it's so great - vulnerable, honest, and filled with dreamy and catchy songs. I’ve been listening to all the music you’ve made since you started - I really love the This Current Self EP — from there to now is such an interesting evolution sonically and lyrically. Can you walk me through that four-year growth from then to now?
Totally. That first EP was during COVID, right after I graduated college, and I was kind of like, “What the fuck is going on?” I like to describe it as: I slept for a month, then made that EP for a month. It was just me word-vomiting into Logic — super cathartic and fun. It was basically all me, though my twin brother contributed some synth or bass parts since we were both home. He was finishing college, I had one class left. That EP really reflected where I was then. This new album spans about four years’ worth of songs, so it mirrors where I was in life through that time. The big difference is that I got to collaborate and really flesh everything out — it’s a full-fledged version of what I always wanted that first EP to be.
You can definitely hear that. The first EP has that raw charm of something made in isolation, but this record sounds lush and full. Coming out of COVID, so much music feels different — lyrically, sonically, thematically. It’s like everyone collectively grew - this record sounds like that to me.
Yeah, I think there’s been a shift since COVID — artists are being more candid, maybe even uncontrollably so. There’s this transparency across genres. Experiencing something so collective made people more comfortable being honest, weird, or experimental.
Sort of a, “what the hell, let’s try it” vibe.
Exactly. For me, it was fun to live in that space of, “Is this going to sound ridiculous or cool?” Having a collaborator like Sahil [Ansari], my producer, who was on the same wavelength, was amazing. We’d just try things. Even if something felt weird or embarrassing, it was still useful to lean into that.
It’s refreshing to have someone with you who cares about the music you’re creating, who might also bring new knowledge to it. I think that spirit of experimentation pays off — the record sounds like you, but there’s so much sonic range. “Blue Lie” and “Missing Muses” sound completely different but belong together.
Totally. I was almost worried it would sound too all over the place, but people have told me the songwriting ties it together, which I love. When Sahil and I worked, we’d listen to my demos, pick a direction immediately, and go all in. Even if it turned out wrong, we’d change it later. But committing fully to one idea gave the songs their identity.
You also run through so many human emotions in this record. It’s short — just eight tracks, twenty-six minutes — but it feels complete. I love shorter albums. There’s a real power in leaving people wanting more, like those classic pop and folk records that run thirty minutes tops.
Yeah. A lot of that is just how I write — quickly, in a whirlwind. My patience isn’t my strong suit. But I think there’s something special about capturing a song in the bubble it came from and letting it be. These songs represent a period I was growing out of; I could feel myself changing, and I needed to release them before moving on.
Right — if the next project ends up being fourteen songs, so be it. But forcing songs just to hit a number can dilute the quality.
Totally. And I love “pocket songs” — short ones. I tend to write a small idea, then flesh it out, and that’s my editing process. Once it’s done, I don’t mess with it much. If I write another version, that’s just another song.
On this record, some songs even feel like they talk to each other — like “Blue Lie” and “Hard on a Line.”
Yeah. I wrote most of these songs between ages 21 and 25, which is a huge period of change. Some of them I’d been playing for years and finally finished here; others were written while making the record. It all marks the end of that chapter.
Talk to me about some of the tracks that are named after people, like "Wendy," and "Amber."
“Wendy” and “Amber” bookend things thematically. “Wendy” is about my childhood and my relationship with my parents, while “Amber” feels like my superstar song — my obsession with art and music and people.“Amber” came out of a chord progression that made me feel something, and I just wrote in that moment. “Wendy,” on the other hand, I sat on for a while — living with my parents again, feeling sixteen, wondering where all my growth had gone. I was back home after New York, like, “How am I still feeling this way?”
“Wendy” has that literary resonance — Peter Pan, or even Springsteen’s “Born to Run.” It’s a name tied to the feeling of wanting to break free.
Totally. That wasn’t intentional at first, but once I finished it, it clicked. My family loved Peter Pan growing up — it was my sister’s favorite movie — so it makes sense subconsciously. That song feels really special. I’ve written versions of it throughout my life, but this one finally says what I’ve always wanted to say.
What have you been listening to lately?
I’ve been listening to a lot of Solange, and the new Blood Orange, lots of Prince. The sound on Blood Orange's Essex Honey is so fun and airy, it works no matter what mood I’m in. I’ve also been listening to The War on Drugs’ A Deeper Understanding — that record’s incredible. You can probably hear that influence on Flip the Bed. Also, Purple Rain and Dirty Mind from Prince are all-time favorites.
I want to ask about the album title. When I first heard "Flip The Bed," I imagined flipping a bed into a wall like in an apartment — but there’s not a song by that name. Tell me about what it means to you.
The title comes from a line in the track, “Michael Gibson” — “Let’s flip the bed.” To me, it’s about rearranging the furniture — literally and metaphorically. My roommates and I sometimes get the urge to redecorate everything just to change the vibe. I used to do that constantly as a kid — moving my bed around, switching rooms. “Flip the bed” is like changing the headboard’s direction so everything feels new again. Some people think it means flipping the mattress, which is hilarious — but I love that everyone interprets it differently. For me, it’s about shifting perspective.
Yeah, even that phrase feels symbolic — changing your angle of thinking.
Exactly. I overanalyze everything, but sometimes you just have to ask, “What if I changed how I looked at this?” That’s what this album was for me — learning to reframe instead of self-blame.
You’re definitely not alone there. That’s what I love about your writing — it connects with people who are asking those same questions. It’s cathartic and fun to listen to, even when it’s sad.
Thank you. That really means a lot. That’s exactly what I hope people take away from it.
If you're in Brooklyn, catch JULESY's album release show TONIGHT at Purgatory, and follow JULESY here.
