BACKSTORY: Formerly a jazz student at The New School in New York, the aspiring rock artist dropped out and returned home to pursue music full time, signing with Dirty Hit and amassing festival and touring experience—including opening slots for The 1975 and Still Woozy
FROM: Los Angeles, born and raised
YOU MIGHT KNOW HER FROM: Pigeons & Planes’ inaugural See You Next Year class of 2022, where she contributed the raucous “Mean Girl” to the Mike Dean–assisted compilation album
NOW: Having just released her debut album The Jester via Dirty Hit, she’s now preparing for her North American headlining tour in January
Wallice is a jester, here for your amusement. Zooming in from her apartment in Los Angeles, the songwriter walks me through her view of breaking into the entertainment industry: “Musicians can be like, ‘This song is just for me, and if the people like it, then that’s fine.’ But to be able to make music your career, it does have to be liked by some people. It can’t truly just be for you.” Speaking to the artist as she prepares to release her debut album The Jester, Wallice has leaned into how her budding career mirrors that of the colorful fool employed in medieval courts. “They’re there for the royalty’s enjoyment—they’re not there because they’re popular and well loved,” she explains. “So every night, putting on a show, it’s doing a song and dance for people you’ve never met. It’s really cool and very strange, if you think about it.”
An Angeleno born and raised, Wallice briefly attended The New School in NYC, majoring in jazz performance for a year before dropping out and returning to the West Coast to pursue her career back home, signing with British indie label Dirty Hit. Going to work with her long-time producer and childhood friend marinelli, Wallice scored a spot on Spotify’s Lorem playlist with her single “23” and an invite to support Still Woozy’s If This Isn’t Nice, I Don’t Know What Is tour to kick off 2022. Reminiscing on the TikTok-less scene of the early 2020s, she mentions that “for a long time there was Spotify playlisting for breaking artists. People still listen to [Lorem], but not as much as I think they used to.”
“Every night, putting on a show, it’s doing a song and dance for people you’ve never met. It’s really cool and very strange, if you think about it.”
After the If This Isn’t Nice tour, a couple of standout EPs, and a single on Pigeons & Planes inaugural See You Next Year album earned her an invite to accompany The 1975 on the Asia-Pacific leg of their At Their Very Best tour in April of 2023. The first arena dates of her career exposed Wallice to the highs—and the lows—of life as a big-time opener. “There’s so many times I saw people leaning and yawning looking at me while I’m dancing, jumping around,” she recalls, conjuring the image of black-tie-clad 1975 fans falling asleep at the barricade during the biggest performance of her life. “It’s rough when you see someone yawn at you when you’re trying to get the energy up.”
Wallice would turn this experience into “The Opener,” the lengthy ballad that commences The Jester with an intimate recollection of her emotions during her time abroad. Flatly recalling having beer spilled on her before delving into the loneliness of the stage, Wallice defiantly sings her heart out for the sleeping fans on the rail, determined to put on the greatest show she can for herself, if for no one else. Embracing the feelings of the impatient concertgoers with the length of the single, she jokes to me that “maybe it should be just a ‘when is this going to end?’ kind of thing.” The accompanying visuals tie in the lonely jester she embodies, depicting her singing out to an empty auditorium in a tutu and oversized collar reminiscent of clown attire.
Later on, on her second single “Heaven Has to Happen,” Wallice gets her jesting going properly, donning full clown makeup while struggling through imposter syndrome that leads her to believe she would be “a jester in another life.” In order to bring her clown-core visions to life, the LA rocker enlisted the help of indie music videographer Vanessa Pla, whose work on Tele Novella’s “Eggs in One Basket” was exactly in line with Wallice’s aesthetic vision. “It was just a touch eerie—like, very DIY, but so specific.” In other words, perfect for the clownish vignettes Wallice had in mind.
Written over the last few years that have shaped her young career, The Jester is Wallice coming to terms with her artistic journey and the emotional baggage that’s piled up in the backseat of her clown car. “Look at Me” and “Hardest Working Man Alive” show a two-faced struggle to break into the industry, with one side pleading for someone to look at her while the other second guesses if the long hours and grueling financial situation will ever actually be worth it. “Clown Like Me” presents a self-deprecating caricature of the jester she assumes from the outset, enlisting the help of The Strokes’ Albert Hammond Jr. on rhythm guitar. Wallice compares herself to a cheap car, held together by sawdust and waiting to break down while Hammond wails through a power-pop melody in the background.
“Having these people want to work with me—or maybe not even want to, but at least say yes—is really cool. It makes the self-doubt go a little bit away.”
Reflecting on the opportunity to work with musicians like Hammond and Mikey Freedom Hart, who co-executive produced The Jester with marinelli, Wallice is humble and grateful. “Having these people want to work with me—or maybe not even want to, but at least say yes—is really cool,” she tells me. “It makes the self-doubt go a little bit away.” Imposter syndrome has always been a leech hooked to Wallice, but moments like her session at Electric Lady Studios with Hart help to ease those worries. “Me being in there with all the plaques of everyone who's recorded there, which was everything ever,” she laughs. “I was like, ‘Oh my God who let me in here?’ It makes me feel a lot more legit than I usually feel.”
With the release of The Jester and a national tour on the horizon, the self-doubt is waning. “I wanted there to be this overall sense of belief within the self,” she says of the album. “This is all going to be worth it.” While The Jester has its fair share of questioning, “Hurry Babe” offers a glimpse of the comfort and faith Wallice has found through her journey. “Why are you in such a hurry, babe?” she croons over lush soft rock, letting herself take the time to appreciate this moment she’s in. Even if the anxiety bubbles to the surface, Wallice is ready to take it in stride and put on a show. FL
