Devotion as a Guiding Compass: An Interview with Veronica Everheart

Illustration by Jooeun Choi

Being a "successful" and "viral" artist—whatever that means—comes with a set of textbook guides to follow if that’s the kind of thing you’re into. But being a genuine artist, with a capital A, the kind that comes to mind when you hear the word, is not achieved through blasting through check boxes of do's and don'ts. Think of all of the musicians who have somehow found their way into anals of music history. Got it? And now tell me how devoted they were, so unique it borders on the unimitable.

Veronica Everheart, her passion practically leaping through the screen during our interview, comes close. I didn’t even need to ask about her favorite band; midway through our conversation, she eagerly lifted her laptop to show me her bathroom wall, a literal shrine to The Strokes filled with posters and memorabilia, more Hard Rock Café than a place for a shower. But her makeshift museum hinted at more than just musical preferences or her admiration for Julian Casablancas but a reverence for the artists who carved out a path, who remain for her like guiding stars. She doesn't just make music but immerses herself in it completely. By day, she’s working backstage at a music venue, soaking up sound and energy firsthand and by night, she’s crafting her own. It’s a total surrender to the craft she holds sacred. In that regard, every song she puts out feels like a devotional that solidifies her connection to something larger while always grounded in an unwavering respect and love for music itself.

The promotional email for her music was itself a piece of art, a collage she’d made featuring icons like Alexa Chung, Françoise Hardy (the inspiration behind her bangs, it turns out), and Joni Mitchell. I was instantly drawn to the visual identity she’d crafted: simple yet profoundly personal. She lets people in, not just through her music but through the stories she tells. When I asked what catches her eye in scenes like empty bridge sides, bars, or the odd objects that often appear in her videos: a playing card, a pool table, things that don’t feel like random choices, she explains, “There’s something so familiar and sad about spaces like the ones where I shoot my music videos. Musically, it feels fresh and modern, but there’s always something familiar there. Blending nostalgia with something new is what I love. I record the old-school way in the studio but then add new guitar pedals, glitchy vocals.”

A dance between the old and new, the strong and fragile, the light and dark, contrast is a theme that Veronica relishes in her music. Microcosm, the opening track from her EP Lighter in the Morning: Part 1 begins with a contemplative gaze into a “microcosm,” like a calm field analysis unfolding before you. “There is a microcosm of 17-year-olds with cigarette burns,” she begins, setting a vivid scene. What starts as a seemingly sarcastic observation soon unfurls into a raw exploration of self-questioning, with her vocal intensity rising, each moment steeped in increasing angst. By the time she screams, “What have I become?” the weight of that question hangs in the air, forcing you to confront your own reflection. You look in the mirror and think, “Well, wait, same.” Yet, just as it spirals into that moment of chaos, the song concludes on the grounded tone it began with, encapsulating a full circle of contrast finishing off with the line "Yes, you will still remain." The infamous scream in the song came to her during a drunken recording session. “In order to scream like that, you need to get kinda drunk. I wouldn't have been able to summon it if I was sober,” she admits. It’s this masterful balance of light and dark, introspective vulnerability and outside observation that Veronica navigates so effortlessly that it will cement her place as a musician many others will reference not long into the future.

"This is a coming-of-age themed EP, even if I hesitate to use that word as it's a bit cheesy. The period during which I wrote these songs was very prominent. All of these songs explore relationships, friendships and isolation, trying to cope with the reality that you're an outsider."

That sense of isolation struck me most while watching her music video for Lyn. Everheart puts on headphones, reciting the lyrics directly to the viewer, which immediately brought to mind Fiona Apple's "Across the Universe" and Grimes' "Oblivion." In both videos, the artists wear headphones as a way to block out uncomfortable situations, Fiona's set against a backdrop of literal destruction, while Grimes navigates a male-dominated space. However, despite our shared appreciation for the "Oblivion" music video, our interpretations diverged. Everheart explained that their shoot simply felt natural to them; they thought the location was cool while they were just messing around. I suppose I misinterpret things too, I'm only human, after all. Her music project is so deep, enigmatic, and multi-layered that it instantly invites you to project your own interpretations onto it. “I’m a character of myself because being the face of a project makes you one,” she explains. “Not all my photos are in black and white in real life. I watch Friends and love stuffed animals, but you’re not going to understand that from the surface.” She pauses with a playful spark in her eyes. “I like to have that character, though; it’s fun.”

Photographed by Eli Meyer

Opening up the computer screen to talk to artists is always a joy, but that pleasure is exponentially amplified when the person on the other side makes you feel as if there’s no screen at all, someone you could genuinely be friends with, bonding over a shared passion. Our conversation had already revealed so many mutual interests; it felt like a natural transition to dive deeper into the things we both love. "I just read Just Kids; I see you have a Patti Smith vinyl on your wall too.” she remarks in the middle of our interview. “I used to do everything alone but reading Just Kids solidified the idea that you have to have collaborators and have people who you help and who help you. I have a creative partner called Junius and he changed my life and help created a different sound world for us to explore together.” Listening to her talk about Junius Karr and her approach to collaboration, it’s clear what captivated Veronica in Just Kids, Patti Smith’s account of her early artistic life with her then-lover and lifelong friend, Robert Mapplethorpe. “I never let anyone in before and never shared responsibility for my music,” she says. “But he lives in New York, and I’d fly out to work with him. We’ve been doing this for a year and a half, and over time, I realized he was special enough to become an integral part of my music. I can’t imagine making songs without him now; it’s just become the natural way of doing things.”

Connecting with a creative partner, or even with an audience, or in my case, a music journalist, seems effortless for Veronica. “I don’t really think about performing; I’m mostly very comfortable. I’ve been playing live since I was young,” she shares, a sense of ease in her voice. “Many musicians blow up on TikTok and suddenly find themselves on big stages without ever having performed live. I think I have an advantage there.” Some of the things most may find daunting, Everheart embraces with open arms.

Sometimes it’s easy to look up to musicians and forget the amount of dedication and devotion that underpin their work. Through her collages featuring her icons, her flights to NYC to collaborate with Junius, and her daytime job immersed in the music scene, it’s clear that this ease and confidence were forged through countless experiences in the company of music whether she’s creating it or welcoming others who do. Her EP Lighter in the Morning Part 1 represents years of growth, a reflection of a woman navigating her journey and rediscovering her internal compass amidst the chaos. Even when she sings to or about others, everything circles back, after deep observations, to what matters most: her own experience. As a result, the Veronica Everheart project brims with earnestness and novelty, embodying her knack for peeling back layers and managing complexities to distill them into songs, something she does exceptionally well.