Talking Shit With Public Appeal

The Montreal electropop artist is all about composing chaos.

By Aurora Zboch

Photos by Loicia Samson, Hair & Make-Up by Jiali Riddell

Published on March 17, 2026

Public Appeal fully understands the power of exaggeration when it comes to making pop music. The Montreal-based electropop artist has carved out a unique space for herself where tongue-in-cheek sleaze and metallic synths grind against stuttering vocal chops and hooks that sparkle over distorted bass lines. But it’s important to note that in this space, the sleaze living on the surface of her artistry is less a lifestyle than a sound design choice.

On her new LP hello my name is public appeal, she leans into electroclash theatrics with the precision of someone who has studied the mechanics of pop music closely.

“Maybe I’m not promoting something that’s specifically good, but like, I’m supposed to be matching up with the beat,” she says.

That intentionality runs through her work. For six years, Public Appeal has been embedded in Montreal’s world-class club scene. Not just dancing in them, but dissecting them. The drama, the fashion, the emotional whiplash of nightlife, all of it becomes material. The persona she projects — the oversaturated party girl, the shit-talker, the club diva — is both heightened and deliberate.

She started building that persona young. At 16, she began making music with producer Bounce2, whom she met over Discord while living in a small village in France. Born in Hong Kong, her father’s job moved her through Alsace, Miami, and Egypt before she eventually landed in Montreal. Exposure to different cultures and soundscapes shaped her ear long before she ever stepped into a club.

Her first studio was GarageBand and the mic on her headphones. “Covers and covers and covers, a lot. Like, hundreds and hundreds,” she recounts. “The first song I ever wrote was my song called ‘Amphetamines’ and that’s where the whole concept for the whole oversaturated party girl type thing came from, I guess.”

For the most part, Public Appeal keeps it real: “a Gemini, but no fake,” she states in one lyric. On stage, she often dons pigtails, fishnets, and lace; in the studio, she dresses up sensational party tales with stuttering voice samples, warm buzzing synths, and bassy kicks. The aesthetic may flirt with chaos, but the production is tightly controlled.

Her references reveal just how studied that control is. Public Appeal credits indie darlings like Uffie, Yelle, Amanda Blank, and Sleigh Bells for shaping her sound. She’s influenced by the metallic hyperpop of SOPHIE and the polished maximalism of Danja. She reaches back to 2000s powerhouses including Pharrell Williams and Timbaland — architects of pop’s most indelible hooks.

“Honestly, honestly, honestly,” she gushes. “I will say my number one top artist throughout life like ever, since I can remember, my first memory of making music, really came down to Britney Spears.

“I always loved that she was like the one pop girl who was ready to be a baddie,” she says. “She was doing it by her own intent.”

That word “intent” feels central. Public Appeal spent years studying the demos of queen brat herself, Charli XCX, to perfect her own flows. hello my name is public appeal isn’t just a collection of party anthems; it’s a carefully constructed pop universe. Free drinks, lustful boys, petty drama, IDGAF attitude — these are narrative tools as much as lived references.

On the real, friendship fallouts are often the deepest heartbreaks. “Jealous” (featuring JIA) glosses over a lowkey traumatic situation years later, distilling it into something melodic and controlled. But Public Appeal still seethes when describing recording the track: with tears rolling down and her face bloated from crying, she wondered, why didn’t you tell me for the past few years that that’s how you felt?

“It literally broke me there. It was horrible,” she says. Once home, she poured words she couldn’t express into a beat instead. “Finally, in the comforts of my own walls, I just started making this melancholic beat and then the licks started swinging out.”

On “Pop Bitch” Public Appeal plays with moral ambiguity as narrative performance. “You’re in a relationship with someone, they’re not really treating you well. Does it give the excuse to cheat on them? Not necessarily. But…” She laughs. “It’s adding a little bit of humour to being in a weird, emotionally draining relationship.”

Working with her day-ones remains central to her creative process. Bounce2 produced “Meet Me in the Back,” a collaboration with longtime friend Billy Bondage that grew organically from shared ambition. “Well, one day, he sends me a beat,” she says of Bounce2. “I just thought it sounded really cool.”

That instinctive collaboration defines Public Appeal’s world: messy feelings, sharp hooks, and just enough exaggeration to make the truth sparkle. The sleaze is stylized. The drama is heightened. But beneath the glitter is someone deeply serious about pop music.

On hello my name is public appeal, she finds herself more invested in composing the chaos, rather than chasing it. Because anything else would just be too messy.