There is a particular kind of clarity that arrives before action.
You know something is wrong. You know you’ve outgrown the relationship, situation or version of yourself you’re inhabiting. But knowing and leaving aren’t necessarily the same thing.
On her new single “Here We Go,” British artist Phoenix Laoutaris lives inside that uncomfortable space between recognition and release.
“I think for a lot of women, we tend to clock out of relationships a long time before it actually ends,” she says.
It’s an observation that could just as easily describe the larger creative transition currently happening around her.
At 24, the London-based singer-songwriter is entering a period less concerned with establishing a fixed identity than understanding that identity is allowed to change. Her music moves comfortably between R&B, soul, hip-hop and jazz, while “Here We Go” folds warm, funk-laced production around honeyed vocals and moments of a sharper, rap-influenced cadence.
That contrast is intentional, even when the process that creates it isn’t.
“When I step into the studio I never know what’s going to come out of that day,” Phoenix explains. A conversation becomes a beat, a beat becomes a melody, and eventually lyrics appear. “Then you’ve looked up and the song has materialized out of thin air.”
That instinctive approach has become increasingly important as Phoenix learns to resist the temptation to understand her music before she’s finished making it.
“Over analysing will have you paralysed during creation.”
Instead, she connects the dots afterward.
Sometimes much afterward.
“Sometimes it’s years after that you realize that it relates more to the person you are now than the person you were when you wrote it.”
It’s an interesting philosophy for an artist whose career began attracting outside attention remarkably early. Phoenix started writing songs at 14 and emerged nationally with “Flowers,” which received support from BBC Radio 1 and CLASH following its 2021 release. But the artist who exists today isn’t particularly interested in recreating the person who made it.
“I’ve had to leave a lot of me behind during the process of chasing my dreams,” she says. “Parts I will encounter upon further down the line and others I’ve had to accept as a piece of my past.”
What remains is someone stronger, more experimental and increasingly interested in creating a musical world where other people can feel understood.
That willingness to move between identities may have begun much earlier.
Raised in Totnes, Devon as the youngest of seven, Phoenix grew up inside an unusually expansive cultural and musical environment. Her mother, of Greek and Egyptian heritage, is a classical violinist; her father, who has South African and Argentinian roots, is a multi-instrumentalist.
Rather than teaching her what music should sound like, that environment did the opposite.
“It showed me that there are no rules when it comes to making something that sounds good,” she says. “What sounds good to one person could be a load of shit to the next.”
Her parents themselves had grown up challenging expectations, giving Phoenix an early model for understanding when convention might be useful—and when following her own instincts mattered more.
That philosophy increasingly defines her music.
On “Here We Go,” Phoenix moves between softer melodic vocals and a more assertive cadence. She thinks of the shift almost as moving between masculine and feminine energies.
“The duality of women is that we can be both, strong and dominant whilst still being able to adhere to our softer, more delicate side.”
It’s a duality she wants to explore much further.
Pop culture has often constructed female strength as invulnerability: confidence as the absence of uncertainty, power as the opposite of softness. Phoenix is increasingly uninterested in that binary.
“I’ve learnt that being vulnerable isn’t a weakness,” she says. “It’s what makes us human.”
That understanding sits at the center of the chapter that began with July’s “About You” and continues through “Here We Go.” The former captured possibility; the latter examines what happens when hindsight finally makes a situation impossible to ignore.
Phoenix doesn’t necessarily see these songs as pieces of a predetermined narrative, though. She would rather allow the connections to reveal themselves.
That freedom extends to the idea of reinvention itself.
“I’m not sure if I’ve ever needed ‘permission’ to do anything,” she says, pushing slightly against the language often used to describe this era. Instead, her twenties have involved continually unlearning old patterns, learning new lessons and gradually understanding what she actually wants to create.
The permission she’s giving herself is simpler.
“I’m giving myself ‘permission’ to change whenever I want. No one’s life is linear, so why should music be.”
Perhaps that is the clearest blueprint for wherever Phoenix Laoutaris goes next.
“Here We Go” may be about leaving cycles behind, but Phoenix isn’t interested in pretending growth produces a finished version of a person. There are still emotional spaces she hasn’t learned how to translate into music. In fact, she wants her future work to move deeper into precisely those places.
“I’d like to be able to sink into my vulnerability in a way I have not yet explored,” she says.
Then she leaves the thought open rather than resolving it:
“Aren’t we all uncovering things about ourselves that we haven’t learned to express yet?”
For Phoenix Laoutaris, that’s increasingly where the interesting work begins.
“Here We Go” is about recognizing the cycles we continue long after we’ve outgrown them. Was there a particular moment when you realized that knowing something isn’t right and actually choosing to leave it behind are two very different things?
I think it’s hard to depict a specific moment of realisation. Especially when you were in denial for so long. Allowing yourself to be aware also means allowing yourself to let go. That was something I wasn’t ready to do for a long time, even though I was aware of how detrimental the relationship was.
So in that sense, it’s an ongoing process of realisation. I think for a lot of women, we tend to clock out of relationships a long time before it actually ends.
The track pairs that realization with warm, funk-laced production rather than making the song overtly melancholic. Why did you want the sound to carry a sense of movement and ease while the lyrics deal with patterns that can be difficult to escape?
To be fair, when I step into the studio I never know what’s going to come out of that day. It usually starts with a conversation that leads into a beat that is followed by me humming melodies, which then finally falls into the lyrics.
During that process of creativity, you’re following a feeling that guides everything, then you’ve looked up and the song has materialized out of thin air.
Your delivery on “Here We Go” moves naturally between singing and a more rap-leaning cadence. Does changing the way you use your voice allow different sides of your personality to emerge—almost as though certain thoughts need to be spoken rather than sung?
I definitely feel that switching up my tone helps me deliver the lyrics with a different attitude. In my head it’s like switching from my masculine to my feminine, which is also something I want to show a lot more of in this next chapter of my music.
The duality of women is that we can be both, strong and dominant whilst still being able to adhere to our softer, more delicate side.
This new chapter has been described less as a reinvention and more as giving yourself permission to be soft and self-assured, vulnerable and commanding simultaneously. What did you previously feel you needed permission to do as an artist?
I’m not sure if I’ve ever needed “permission” to do anything. However, going through my 20s has been a constant recycle of unlearning old patterns and teaching myself new lessons.
All of this is helping me unpack what makes me, me: what it is I want to make and how I want that to be received. So, if anything, I just know myself better than before and hopefully that gets shown through my music.
I’m giving myself “permission” to change whenever I want. No one’s life is linear, so why should music be.
“About You” introduced this era, while “Here We Go” seems to push further into the idea of choosing yourself. Are these songs documenting a specific period of personal change, or did you only recognize the connection between them after writing them?
Whenever I am creating something new I try not to connect the dots until after it’s all said and done. Over analysing will have you paralysed during creation.
That’s not to say I don’t do it, but I try to steer away from it when I can. It’s only afterwards that I notice the connection between songs or feelings. Sometimes it’s years after that you realize that it relates more to the person you are now than the person you were when you wrote it.
You grew up as the youngest of seven in a musical household shaped by Greek, Egyptian, South African and Argentinian heritage, with a classical violinist mother and multi-instrumentalist father. How did growing up around so many different cultural and musical languages affect your instinct for what music is “supposed” to sound like?
I think if anything it just opened my mind to people and to music. It showed me that there are no rules when it comes to making something that sounds good. It’s all subjective anyway. What sounds good to one person could be a load of shit to the next.
Both of my parents grew up breaking the rules of their generation, which had a big impact on me knowing when I should follow my heart or confine myself to the lines of what’s expected of me. It’s a part of my personality I want to bring into the studio when it comes to making my own music.
“Flowers” brought significant attention very early in your career, including support from BBC Radio 1 and CLASH. Looking back at yourself in 2021, are there parts of that young artist you’re consciously returning to now—and other parts you’ve had to outgrow?
I’ve had to leave a lot of me behind during the process of chasing my dreams. Parts I will encounter upon further down the line and others I’ve had to accept as a piece of my past.
When it comes to that era it won’t be forgotten and fragments still remain. However, the person I am now is much stronger than I was back then, more determined to create a world for people that need a space to feel understood and more willing to experiment within a sound I have loved for so long.
There’s an interesting contradiction in becoming more instinctive as your career becomes more visible and there are potentially more opinions surrounding your work. How have you learned to distinguish your own creative intuition from the expectations that come with being an artist people are watching?
The creative intuition is instinctual, but the opinions follow after my thoughts and ideas have come to fruition. It’s not always easy separating the expectation that others have of you from the expectation you have of yourself.
Most of us apply that pressure with the thought of others in mind, when in fact we are the only ones that think of ourselves in that way.
Your current music seems interested in allowing softness and power to coexist rather than treating vulnerability as the opposite of confidence. Has your understanding of what it means to be a powerful female artist changed as you’ve gotten older?
100%. I like to think that confidence grows with age and I think acceptance plays a big role in all of that: what we will no longer stand for and what it is that brings us joy.
I’ve learnt that being vulnerable isn’t a weakness. It’s what makes us human.
If “Here We Go” is ultimately about breaking cycles and choosing yourself, what has choosing yourself actually meant for Phoenix Laoutaris creatively—and what are you no longer willing to compromise in the music you make next?
I’m not sure if I’ve ever had to compromise during the process of making music, as it always felt like a true expression of what I’m going through during that period of time in my life.
However, I’d like to be able to sink into my vulnerability in a way I have not yet explored, which I think will take time. Aren’t we all uncovering things about ourselves that we haven’t learned to express yet?
