What follows are 15 of our favourite interviews from the year — selected not for hype or reach, but for honesty, curiosity, and the rare feeling that something meaningful happened when the recorder was on. 

Audrey Hobert Is Always In On The Joke

“If I don’t love it, I’m not continuing it.”

This interview by our senior editor Cam Delisle captured a breakout artist at a very specific, unguarded moment — just after releasing a debut album and before the machinery around it fully takes over. Audrey Hobert’s self-awareness, humour, and refusal to romanticize the process felt refreshing in a pop landscape that often rewards polish over honesty. From an editorial perspective, this piece exemplified what RANGE does best: meeting artists where they are, letting their intelligence and personality lead the conversation, and trusting that small, human details can say more than grand narratives ever could.

One Time For Thatcher Demko

“I think we’re a dying breed. Not a lot of guys like hip-hop — in hockey anyway.”

This piece was written by Sean Orr, a close friend who has since gone on to become a Vancouver City Councillor — though first and foremost, he’s still a die-hard Canucks fan, which made him the perfect person to write it. The interview took place inside the Apple Music store at Pacific Centre, which felt like an appropriately surreal setting to talk to Thatcher Demko about something other than hockey. Getting a goalie to open up about music, creativity, and what actually grounds him off the ice revealed a side of Demko you don’t often see, and it was refreshing to let that conversation exist on its own terms — no trades, no stats, just a Vancouver icon talking honestly about the music that keeps him steady.

 

The Other Side of Prison: In Conversation With Filmmaker Jafar Panahi 

“Outside of my films, I’ve taken political sides, but in my films, I have tried to stay committed to a socially engaged cinema.”

This conversation with It Was Just An Accident director Jafar Panahi stands out as one of the most meaningful pieces we published this year because it captured a rare moment of reflection from a filmmaker who has paid an extraordinary personal price for telling the truth. What made the interview especially powerful was not just the context — Panahi’s first post-ban film, his lived experience of imprisonment — but the clarity with which he articulated the philosophical line he draws between activism and cinema.

 

Do You Hear What KROY Hears?

“That moment made me realize—if something goes wrong, there’s no fixing it.”

This piece is especially close to me because I travelled to Montreal in the thick of winter to for Taverne Tour and had this conversation with Camille aka KROY in real time, not over email or a rushed Zoom. Watching a packed room fall completely silent for her set, while talking just hours earlier about the fragility of hearing, gave the story a weight that stayed with me long after I left the venue. Publishing this in partnership with Apple for National Hearing Day felt particularly meaningful, as it allowed us to pair a real, artist-led conversation with practical tools that can actually help musicians and fans protect something so essential to their lives and work.

 

The Unseen of America, with Lonnie Holley

“Hope only comes when we bring it forth.”

This feature is one of the most emotionally resonant pieces we published this year because it trusted stillness, patience, and humanity over urgency. Lonnie Holley’s life story is almost unfathomable in its weight, yet what stayed with me most was how consistently kindness and hope surfaced in his words, even when recounting the most brutal chapters of his life. From my perspective as editor-in-chief, this article represents the kind of space RANGE strives to create — one where artists like Holley are not reduced to trauma, but given room to be seen in full: as survivors, thinkers, and generous witnesses to the human condition.

 

Alice Cooper Is Back For Revenge

“If you say ‘Welcome to my nightmare,’ well, don’t just say it. Give them the nightmare.”

This feature was a standout for me because it treated Alice Cooper not as a nostalgia act, but as a living, still-curious artist reckoning with his own history in real time. What made this interview especially compelling was the return to the band — not just the icon — and the reminder that so much of Cooper’s mythology was built on collaboration, risk, and timing. From an editorial standpoint, this piece reflects RANGE’s interest in legacy stories that still feel alive: artists looking backward without becoming trapped there, and finding new relevance by reconnecting with the instincts that made their work matter in the first place.

 

Meet the “Girl of Your Dreams,” Eli

“Perfection isn’t the prize — the performance is.”

This piece stood out to me because it captured an artist who understands pop not just as music, but as performance, mythology, and self-construction — all at once. Eli’s comfort living in that in-between space, where ambition, awkwardness, humour, and sincerity collide, felt like a defining snapshot of where pop culture is heading rather than where it’s been. From an editorial perspective, this feature represents RANGE’s commitment to documenting emerging artists before they’re fully flattened by polish — when the ideas are still messy, the instincts are sharp, and the joy of making something on your own terms is still front and centre.

 

Adam Duritz Is Still Looking for Meaning—And Finding It in Music

“Myths last forever because they’re larger than life.”

This interview was a highlight for me because it let us indulge our very real love of ’90s nostalgia while still asking grown-up questions about meaning, craft, and longevity. There’s something genuinely funny — and also kind of perfect — about a moment where Mr. Jones can feel like a deep-catalog learning moment for our Gen Z senior editor, while Adam Duritz is still rewriting songs and chasing connections decades later. It’s a reminder that nostalgia isn’t about freezing artists in time — it’s about noticing what’s changed, what hasn’t, and why certain voices keep finding their way back to us.

 

Elle Barbara’s Ultimate Act of Self Love

“The one person I can be committed to forever is myself.”

This feature stands out because it felt less like coverage and more like being invited inside a living artwork — one that unfolded across a record, a performance, a community, and a city. Elle Barbara’s wedding-to-self wasn’t a stunt or a punchline; it was a deeply considered act that folded joy, grief, camp, politics, and care into the same gesture. What stayed with me most was how seriously her latest act, which was paired with her new album Word on the Street took self-love — not as branding or bravado, but as something earned, complicated, and ongoing — and how naturally that seriousness coexists with humour, spectacle, and celebration.

 

Meg Remy and Amy Millan Have a Text Conversation

“This is that real mom musician shit.” – Meg Remy (US Girls)

This was one of my favourite pieces to run this year because it resisted urgency at every turn. Letting Meg and Amy talk by text — slowly, casually, between sick kids, airports, rehearsals, and life — revealed more about creativity than a traditional interview ever could. What stayed with me was how much magic surfaced once both artists gave themselves permission to loosen their grip: on process, on timelines, on expectations. The conversation felt less like promotion and more like a document of two artists trusting intuition, embracing limitation, and allowing space to do its quiet, transformative work.

 

FLO: Running the Girl Group Playbook in Real Time

“It’s important to keep the energy fresh every single time when you’re doing the same show over and over.”

This one still makes me laugh, because Cam Delisle did his interview with FLO over the phone outside the Commodore just hours before the trio went onstage — only to meet them in person backstage later that night anyway. Why they didn’t just do the interview face-to-face is anyone’s guess, but that strange pop-star logic somehow made the piece even better. What came through was a group fully in control of their moment: calm, funny, self-aware, and already thinking like veterans while still very much in the heat of their rise. The fact that the conversation happened in real time — right before a sold-out Vancouver show — and was then immediately backed up by the performance itself makes this one feel like a perfect snapshot of FLO exactly as they were.

Cassia Hardy Steps Out and Looks Back

“I don’t make music for the algorithm — I make it for the body.”

This interview with Cassia Hardy remains one of my favourites of the year — and her new album, In Relation is, without question, an album we stupidly overlooked on our Best of 2025 list. It’s a record that lives outside the algorithm by design, removed from Spotify for political reasons, and all the more powerful for it. Paired with the Edmonton guide Cassia prepared for our fall print edition — which you can order here — this piece feels like a complete portrait of an artist deeply committed to place, principle, and doing things on her own terms.

 

Beyond Bells Larsen’s “Visa Gate” Tragedy

“By virtue of becoming myself in many regards, I am more confident.”

 

This piece meant a great deal to me because it began with genuine care — Dust Cwaine reached out asking if they could interview Bells after being deeply moved by the album, and that shared understanding shapes the entire conversation. Blurring Time is a rare record that captures the trans journey with honesty, humour, grief, and grace, refusing to flatten lived experience into a single narrative or headline. In the lead-up to the album, Bells received widespread attention after speaking openly about how the gender marker on his passport created barriers at the U.S. border, forcing him to cancel tour dates — a moment the press quickly and reductively labelled “Visa Gate.” What Dust created here feels less like an interview and more like a recognition between two artists, giving Bells the space to be expansive, reflective, and fully himself beyond that noise.

 

Propagandhi vs. the Prevailing Order

“I do have an earnest urge to somehow find peace in this increasingly disastrous global society.”

This interview stood out to me because it captured Chris Hannah at a point of genuine tension — still fiercely principled, but openly wrestling with what it means to seek peace in a world that feels increasingly broken. Rather than rehashing Propagandhi’s long-standing reputation for political urgency, this piece leaned into contradiction: rage and serenity, privilege and despair, humour and moral gravity coexisting in the same breath. It’s a reminder of why Hannah remains such a compelling voice — not because he has answers, but because he refuses to look away, even when that refusal comes at a personal cost.

 

Cruising With Devours

“I just turned 40, and I’m feeling unstable and unaccomplished.”

This piece stands out to me because it confronts something the music industry rarely wants to talk about head-on: aging, mental health, and what it means to stay visible without pretending everything is fine. Jeff Cancade has been remarkably open about these questions — not just through Sports Car Era, but publicly, in real time, on social media — and that honesty takes real courage. He’s a powerful, generous presence in the Vancouver music scene, and this album feels like both a reckoning and a celebration of continuing on your own terms. Sports Car Era isn’t about aging gracefully so much as aging truthfully, and Jeff deserves far more recognition — and shows in Toronto and Montreal — so the rest of Canada can experience the magic and wonder of his artistry.