Sunday Girl, her latest EP, turns up a little looser and far more interested in impulse than analysis. The project’s mere six tracks play like half-eye-rolls, delivered with an offhand precision that makes them land harder than anything overly polished could. Throughout, hazy, coastal dream-pop brushes up against sharp, almost conspiratorial evocations. You get the sense that Rubio’s letting herself be contradictory on record, and not rushing to resolve any of it.
Rubio’s long been interested in building worlds sonically, visually, and emotionally, but on Sunday Girl, the frame widens just enough to let the edges show. The result is a version of her that feels both more immediate and slightly out of reach, like she’s in on a joke she may or may not explain. For now, however, she’s offered RANGE a few clues.
Your earlier work often explored identity through place and heritage. On Sunday Girl, the storytelling feels more internal and voice-driven. What shifted in how you approach storytelling in your songs?
With Sunday Girl, I wanted to write a project that tapped into my personal/love/romantic life in English again. I was very intentional on previous projects to focus on honing in on my writing in Spanish, growing as a writer in my second language, and diving into Latin music and studying Latin and reggae music from the 80’s/90’s. I try to test myself on every project. Music is explorative for me. I did what I wanted to do with Mar y Tierra and Ring Ring. Sunday Girl is just my Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City, moment.
You’ve described Sunday Girl as your “single girl manifesto” – what does that phrase mean to you beyond relationships? Is it more about autonomy, identity, or something else entirely?
Sunday Girl, being my “single girl manifesto,” means that I put my desires above those of a romantic partner while writing and making this project. I think in the past, I would worry about what other people would think. What will my ex’s friends say if I say this? What will my partner’s parents say? What will my grandpa think of me? While writing this project, I really didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted to say whatever I wanted. Unfiltered. Unadulterated me.
This new EP feels more conversational, even cheeky at times – how do you strike a balance between being “poetic” and just saying things as they are?
I try to strike a balance between cheeky and poetic as best I can, but sometimes the story writes itself. I hooked up with a narcissist/therapist, ya know? How can you not write a cheeky song about an insane moment like that? I try to find a balance between my Lana Del Rey, moody, melancholy writing side and my Lily Allen side. When they mesh together, I think that’s when I feel the most me.
There’s such a strong point of view across this EP – do you think of the “Sunday Girl” as a heightened version of yourself, or did you treat her almost like a character you could write through?
I think of the Sunday Girl character as myself. It’s really straightforward for me. These songs are straight out of my journal. I didn’t want anything between myself and my art. I wanted transparency. The story of the Sunday Girl nun is a character, but the songs and the story are unfiltered and me.
There’s a really distinct look and energy tied to this era. How much of that came from thinking about “Sunday Girl” as a character versus just following your own instincts visually?
The visual narrative around Sunday Girl came from years of wanting to incorporate my Catholic/Christian church background into my visual world. I had all these photos in my Pinterest board, and my friend Tatum posted in a nun’s habit and put “Sunday Girl” as the song. It felt like kismet. I texted her immediately and asked her to do a video with me because she had reminded me of this whole storyline I had for a bad, Sunday girl nun who leaves the nunnery to go on dates and sing at a lounge and then rides her bike back home. She ended up not being able to film with me, but I’m grateful she gave me her blessing and let me run with my storyline. My stylist’s husband has a skate shop called Marriage in Echo Park, and they have always had this “bad girl nun smoking cigarettes” tote I carry with me all the time. I found it in my closet, and Kat and I slowly started piecing it all together.
You’ve always blended genres, but this project feels especially cohesive. What were the sonic references or emotional touchstones that helped you define the world of this EP?
The sonic references that helped me define this world for the EP are a mixture of California dream indie rock, reggae, and alternative pop/trip-hop/a dreamy soundscape to bring it all together. Emotionally, I wanted it to feel like you were reading your friend’s diary in your bedroom.
When you listen back to Sunday Girl now, what feels the most “new” about this version of you, and what still feels tied to where you started?
What feels the most new about this version of me on this project is just my willingness to put it all on the table. I’ve always been honest in my writing, but I guess this is just a more adult version of what I’ve always been. A more open version of who I’ve always been.
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