Deftly unravelling threads of personal trauma, isolation, closure, and healing, Cwaine takes the listener on an intimate journey of shifting perspectives, inner dialogue, and ultimately catharsis – all the while superimposed on a theme of returning home to the small town you grew up in. This act of returning home becomes not only a physical act, but a metaphor. In this sense, Twin Lakes feels a lot like someone transcribing the story of their own life to themselves, and in the process discovering something brand new. I asked Cwaine what that was.

“I discovered that I have a deep-seated resilience that I felt like I didn’t have because I was constantly under stress or triggered or upset or depressed or anxious and I was like ‘Oh my god, I’m so weak’ and realizing that all of that exists and the reason my life exists is because of the strength I have,” Cwaine says. “The reason I’m able to get through that into the next thing or see the next person or to do the next task was because I have a resilience”.

Nowhere on the album is this resilience more pronounced than on the title track. Having the courage to return to a site of such personal trauma, especially while you sing “I’ll only come back here when I’m dead,” is such a visceral experience for the listener. 

“Writing the title track ‘Twin Lakes’ was like catching lightning in a bottle,” Cwaine expands. “I cried through the entire process because when I wrote ‘Why’d you have to be so fucking mean?’ I was like ‘Oh my god if I could say that to my dad right now I’d feel such relief.’” 

And we can hear that relief. We are on the road back to Twin Lakes with the singer. It’s a bumpy ride, but in the end we find comfort, and that’s not by accident. It comes from perfecting the art of being vulnerable. While being a drag queen helped Cwaine discover their identity, it was music that helped them express it. 

“I started doing music because drag was not vulnerable enough for me. I was no longer challenged. I could walk on stage and I could do my job. And I was like, I need this to be something more than it is. I know I’m an artist, but what is it?” they say. “So I chose music. But when I was releasing my first album, I had a full crash out because it felt too vulnerable. I was too scared to release this because then everyone’s gonna have opinions about it and it’s gonna mean something to them and it’s gonna take a different form. And then I realized that that’s why we’re artists.”

Of course, connecting with a crowd is also a part of being an artist, and Dust Cwaine lives for that. From the early days of playing on Davie or the Cobalt, to starting Sleepy Queers Productions, to playing in their hometown of Cranbrook for the first time, the live show is an integral part of the art. “My priorities are not necessarily in streaming because I don’t necessarily believe in that world,” they say. “I want to focus on my live show because I think that there’s a spectacle to be made there and so I just want to keep compounding and building on that. So anytime you get a chance to come to a show it’s going to be new, it’s going to be fresh. It’s going to evolve and grow, especially bringing music and drag together. The possibilities are endless.” 

Indeed, and all it took was going back to the beginning to see the future. Maybe Cwaine didn’t want to go back, but I’m glad they did, and you will be too.