Between restraint and release
By Glitch & Gold
February 2026
1. The Sentence
If someone describes your music ten years from now, what do you hope they say?
“I hope they say it felt honest. That it didn’t try too hard. That it sounded like someone learning how to accept themselves.”
There is no grand ambition in that answer. No desire for spectacle. What she hopes for is accuracy. That the songs reflect who she was, not who she thought she needed to be.
2. The Real Beginning
When did this stop being something private and start becoming something real?
Her journey has been anything but linear. She grew up constantly singing, covering songs, disappearing into her room with melodies that felt safer than conversation. But writing her own music felt out of reach. She convinced herself she could not do it. Two childhood songs, then years of silence.
Meeting Tim Bettinson shifted something. Slowly. He encouraged her to record. She laughed at first, nervously. A year later, a side project began to form during their travels. That side project became “Lay Me Down.” And with it, the beginning of something she had long avoided calling a career.
There was no breakthrough moment. Only incremental courage.
3. The Hesitation
Self doubt and imposter syndrome still come up in your story. How present are they now?
“A lot of self doubt. Imposter syndrome. It still eats at me occasionally.”
Depression had lingered since school. It deepened during years of travel. Touring across Europe and the United States, far from home, amplified instability rather than resolving it. Coming off antidepressants while in unfamiliar environments intensified everything.
Eventually, she returned to Australia. Not to retreat, but to stabilise.
A diagnosis followed. ADHD. A framework. An explanation for years of feeling out of place.
Not a solution. But clarity.
4. The Internal Landscape
Many of your songs lean into melancholy and mental health. Is that intentional?
“I’ve always felt a little different. Like an outsider. Not really knowing who I was or what I stood for.”
Her music forms from that relationship with herself. From navigating depression. From learning how to articulate what previously felt unnamed.
Ironically, she now gravitates toward lighter music in her own listening. Olivia Dean on repeat. Less sadness. More lift.
But her writing remains rooted in nuance.
5. The Sound Before the Words
You often begin with soundscapes rather than lyrics. Why?
She builds from atmosphere first. Production resonates more deeply for her than starting with a guitar and words alone. Much of her work is shaped collaboratively with Tim, layering texture before melody, then language.
Other days, she begins with a guitar loop and lets patterns guide her.
The order matters. Sound opens the emotional door. Words arrive after.
It explains why her songs feel suspended rather than declarative.
6. The Most Personal Track
Is there one song that feels especially personal?
“Knife Edge.”
Written almost in a single sitting, it captures what ADHD feels like internally. The fragmentation. The constant balancing act. The difficulty of translating sensation into language.
It came quickly.
Which is rare for her.
That immediacy made it honest.
7. The Influence Question
Who do you return to creatively?
Radiohead remains a constant reference point. PJ Harvey. Julie Byrne. Loma.
“I just love how weird Radiohead’s music is.”
Her influences shift often. Studio sessions sometimes begin with a new track she has had on repeat that week. Tim rolls his eyes, then presses play.
The thread running through them is not genre. It is restraint.
8. The Geography
Does living in Australia influence your sound?
She hesitates.
“I’m not sure if it influences my storytelling directly". But it’s definitely easier to write when I’m home.”
Since moving to Victoria, the greener, softer landscape has offered stability. Compared to Queensland, it feels grounded.
Nature does not define her lyrics. But it steadies her.
9. The Heritage
Your surname traces back to the Netherlands. Does that lineage resonate with you?
Her grandparents on both sides emigrated from the Netherlands to Australia. She had not deeply considered how that migration story might echo in her music.
But the idea of always being on a path improving, becoming, learning feels familiar.
Belonging and distance at the same time.
10. For The Record
If this chapter of your life had a title beyond the music, what would it be?
“Learning to accept myself fully.”
Her work does not dramatise emotion. It contains it.
Slow Burn holds tension instead of releasing it. Knife Edge articulates instability without collapsing under it.
There is no rush toward catharsis.
Only awareness. And sound built carefully around it.
Listen to Amelia Magdalena on Spotify
https://open.spotify.com/artist/0z0lcAGtZwp9PUrqUCArLu?si=QqM9SAL8RgKitC_jnmGPzw
Featured on Glitch & Gold playlists
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2QY4519zjnL9lmL0olJ6j3?si=b-0ORvTsScy3c98Rx7i9nw