He’s the dreamer articulating reality: Meet Augustine
Trying to explain AUGUSTINE’s music to someone that hasn’t heard it requires being able to articulate what it feels like to be alive. It’s an all-encompassing irrational sense of elation; like the kind felt only at a festival, when you’re surrounded by mud and tin cans and you’re sticky with tent-warmed cider, when you’re dancing with your friends holding a cigarette in one hand and a tube of stale pringles in the other. Nonsensically, yet simultaneously, it conjures the adolescent, existential dread of a drab school corridor, the jaded resignation that comes with throwing a party and realising too late into the evening that no one is going to attend. It captures the feeling of daring to be hopeful, and the gnawing nibble of insecurity that follows as a result. The unmistakable lunacy of falling in love, of being delusionally carefree to everything going on in the world around you knowing that, with just one person, you could face anything at all. And on top of all of this, it’s an aftertaste of emptiness, an acknowledgment toward those periods of time where it feels impossible to feel in the first place. What it really is, is genius.
Augustine’s story starts in Jörlanda, a small village just outside of Gothenburg. Recounting memories of childhood, he cites the subtle, ever-present constance of music within his daily life; whether playing in the car on the ride to football practice with his two brothers, or humming out of the stereo in the kitchen at home. Describing where he draws inspiration, the musician chuckles to himself softly: “It changes all the time I think, but ultimately I’ve taken lots of different turns.” He references the likes of “the greats” coming first, David Bowie and Bob Dylan paving the way as they so readily do to a musical love affair, but it was GREEN DAY and THE KOOKS who inspired him to get a guitar, and Foster the People who ultimately lead him to purchase a synth. “It was a very small village and I was always a dreamer. I always dreamt about the bigger cities, feeling bigger emotions and having bigger experiences.”
“It captures the feeling of daring to be hopeful, and the gnawing nibble of insecurity that follows as a result. The unmistakable lunacy of falling in love.”
It’s safe to say that the experiences definitely got bigger. With his first, second and third singles all hitting number one on the Hype Machine Chart, just last year the 24-year-old artist added Pop Artist of the Year at the Swedish Independent Music Awards to his list of accomplishments. To top it off, his most played song on Spotify, Guts - a song about a boy celebrating the nonchalant invincibility of being hungover with a lover - has over five and a half million streams. It’s a reality that even a dreamer wouldn’t dare to believe, but listening to Augustine’s music, it makes sense. Soaring melodies and upbeat, peppy tempos make walking down a sad, gum-trodden pavement feel as remarkable as developing wings and taking flight, and the poignant vulnerability of his lyrics, so vested in the beautiful banality of daily life, have a distilled quality that grants the listener a rare, auto-biographical authority. “I really like to play around with the English language, to be open and free, and I want my music to mean something more, or to have different layers to it if you look closely enough.”
Credit: RASSMUS BJÖRNSON
It shows. The artist’s emotional intelligence is arresting and furthermore prioritised as part of his achievements as well as his creative process. When asked what he’s most proud of, he references not downloads or fame, but a poster made by both of his brothers, filled with beautiful comments that people have written about his songs. “I’m proud that people can relate to the songs, and are moved by them because that’s always hard to grasp.” That’s not to suggest that he doesn’t prioritise the music itself; on the contrary, he’s a perfectionist. “I very much like to throw things around and try seven or eight versions of each song to really find its maximum potential. There are always things to improve, and whenever a song’s not finished, I have to keep listening to make sure that it can’t get even better.” His overall intention? “I want the music to feel like you’re high on a drug.” Augustine’s answer is pithy and perfect because it’s true. And he must be doing something right – music like his actually does.
What resounds above everything is Augustine’s grounded authenticity; a rare, remarkable thread seamlessly linking the artist to his art. Having released two singles in 2021, Summer Wine and Prom, he reminisces on the challenge of the past two years and the relevance of music to his mental health. “It’s been harder to keep the brain happy and find motivation when the days feel really similar to each other, which I think everyone has experienced. I use music as a tool to find ground; to find something that I recognise or want to hold on to.” In acknowledging the poisonous nature of existential dread, Augustine inadvertently offers a sought-after antidote. With bated breath, what can we expect from his upcoming album? “Love, dance and mental anguish.” It sounds almost too good to be true – but then, after all, it is Augustine. I’d get ready.
Listen to Augustine’s most recent track, Fragrance, on Spotify and Apple Music. His upcoming album will be released on October 29th.
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