Photo Credit Evan Would
GG Magree is done playing nice. First came Bleed — a blistering, blood-stained declaration. Then came Run, her survival anthem drenched in fury and fire. Now, with the release of the brand-new “Wet Dreams” video, Magree shifts gears again — unleashing a darkly playful ode to desire, queer liberation, and reclaiming the body as a battleground for freedom.
“I was put on this planet to shatter the shame around female rage and sexual freedom,” Magree says. “For the woman told to calm down and the queer kids told to cover up. I make art that bleeds, screams, seduces, and liberates. I don’t make music to be liked — I make it to be free.”
The Wet Dreams visual builds on the cinematic world she’s been creating since June, when Bleed kicked off the saga. With Run extending the story in August — a terror-tinged revenge tale where predator becomes prey — Wet Dreams flips the narrative again, plunging us into a surreal sex club Magree made entirely on her own terms. It’s decadent, unhinged, and defiantly unapologetic — exactly the kind of fever dream she’s been promising since day one.
From growing up in her father’s legendary Australian gay club to touring alongside Zeds Dead, DJ Snake, and NGHTMRE, Magree has lived her life at the intersection of rave chaos, punk ferocity, and radical self-expression. Now, she’s funnelling it all into her debut full-length, Spit Love — a record that bleeds with anger, lust, wit, and vulnerability in equal measure.
“I want girls who feel repressed or unseen to know they’re not alone,” Magree says. “If you don’t fit in, you don’t have to. You just have to be you. That’s what this whole world I’m creating is about.”
With Wet Dreams now out in the wild, the world of GG Magree is only getting wilder, weirder, and more irresistible. Step in — if you dare.
MUNDANE: You look lit up today. What’s the vibe?
GG MAGREE: How could I not? It’s a beautiful day in L.A., I’m off to New York for Fashion Week tomorrow, my album’s done, and my new single drops next week. Life’s good—though I wouldn’t mind a private jet and a few million in the bank.
MUNDANE: Fair. Your new track Run feels like pure survival mode—half predator, half prey. Which side were you writing from?
GG: Oh, I’m always the hunter. It came from a toxic relationship where I finally snapped—like, hell no, you don’t get to keep me small anymore. I had that clarity-in-the-shower moment, walked into the studio with Duncan Murray, and we wrote it in two hours. You can literally hear how fucking angry I was.
MUNDANE: You’ve said it’s about crawling through pain and realizing the only way out is to burn it all down. Is destruction a form of healing for you?
GG: Absolutely. Sometimes you’ve gotta break it and throw it in the fire to come back stronger. I can forgive, I can even stay friends with exes, but I need that destruction first. It’s stepping into your power.
MUNDANE: The video for Run continues the story from Bleed. How far are you taking this world?
GG: Five parts total—three videos, a short film, and a final video. I didn’t plan it that way, but it unfolded naturally. As an artist today, you’ve gotta build worlds, not just drop singles. My world is dark, sexual, weird, uncomfortable—and if you feel like that, it’s for you.
MUNDANE: Next up is Wet Dreams. What can we expect?
GG: Chaos. It’s about going to a gay sex club—except the club can be anywhere, even your bedroom. For me, those spaces are where I feel most seen.
MUNDANE: Your music pushes female rage and sexual freedom unapologetically. When did you realize that was your mission?
GG: It took years. Early on, people told me, “Don’t be too sexual, no one will take you seriously.” I detoxed my whole life, traveled, sat with myself during COVID, and came out with the most me project I’ve ever made. It’s rawer than I’ll ever be on camera. Music is my therapy, my truth.
MUNDANE: You’ve gone from collabs with Zeds Dead and DJ Snake to this industrial, guitar-driven chaos. What pulled you there?
GG: I grew up in Australia’s punk-electro scene. I’ve always been a little hardcore punk baby, but I got boxed into dubstep because I wrote some big toplines. This album is me finally saying fuck that—it’s hardcore, fun, slutty, vulnerable, all at once.
MUNDANE: You’ve said you don’t make music to be liked, you make it to be free. What does freedom mean right now?
GG: It means being loud with purpose. I don’t care if John in Texas hates Wet Dreams—I didn’t write it for him. I wrote it for me. That’s freedom.
MUNDANE: Growing up, your dad owned one of Australia’s iconic gay clubs. How did that shape you?
GG: Oh, it was everything. I was 15 seeing drag queens for the first time, realizing this wasn’t just music—it was pure expression. My parents let me be whoever I wanted, and that translates into everything I do. They’ve even been on stage with me at Coachella. They’re my biggest hype crew.
MUNDANE: Do you feel more at home on a rave stage or in a mosh pit?
GG: Rave stage, 100%. I love creating mosh pits, but being in them? No thanks. I’m a pussycat at heart.
MUNDANE: You’ve called yourself a glittering love witch conjuring sex and death. How do you balance the dark and ecstatic?
GG: I don’t overthink it—it just pours out. Aesthetically, I lean dark. Trauma probably plays into that. But I’m a light witch at heart. No hexes, no curses—just tits on a leather tee and a little chaos.
MUNDANE: If Run is fire and destruction, what rises from the ashes of your next chapter?
GG: Wet Dreams, obviously. Then my full-length album Spit Love. It’s heavy, funny, sexy, dark, and playful. I want my music to tell girls they don’t have to repress themselves or fit in. They just have to be them.
