This week on The Bridge, I was joined in the studio by Sydney-based alt-pop artist Julienne Harvey, whose music lives in that quiet, devastating space between tenderness and rage. Over the hour, we talked lyricism, poetry, female anger, cinematic sadness, and the slow, patient work of finding your sound - alongside first plays of unreleased tracks and some genuinely exciting recommendations from the local Sydney scene.
We kick-off with her latest single Little Girl, which will be part of Julienne’s first album release. It’s an intimate, raw track she mastered herself. She describes it as a kind of reckoning - the moment where nostalgia curdles and innocence becomes something you grieve. Once she said it, I could simply not unhear it. It’s like a soft fury humming beneath the surface, the need to just survive - the a quiet rage wrapped in restraint. Julienne spoke about starting her songwriting life in poetry, then later dissecting those poems and shaping them into lyrics, letting the mood arrive later in the studio when sound finally meets feeling.
A lot of Julienne’s work draws straight from her own diary. She’s been releasing music since 2024, and much of it touches on mental health, heartbreak, and emotional processing - not as oversharing, but as a way of making space. Releasing songs, she said, doesn’t feel like exposing one's self so much as letting the music belong to someone else who might need it. That idea of art becoming less about the self, once it’s shared. This was essentially our theme for the whole episode.
We listen to Don’t Talk To Me About Love, a track that marks a bigger sonic shift for her - the first sad song she's written that isn’t melancholy. More guarded, more boundaried, which signals a move toward something sharper and more self-possessed - a direction that’s clearly shaping the music she’s working on now. Her songs feel truly cinematic. I kept imagining rolling credits, red velvet curtains, a slow heartbreak playing out somewhere between long desolate train rides and vast desert landscapes. Probably because a girl once broke my heart so devastatingly, I decided to cross the USA via amtrak, wistfully telling strangers my story, writing poetry while reading one of her favourite books - the belief that I’d be able leave her on the carriage and walk away tucked under my ribs. This track cracks your chest the same way.
One of the real highlights of the show was getting to play her unreleased material. Feminine Forgiveness as Julienne put it is “female rage incarnated into a song.”. I think it’s her most upbeat track to date. Devastation with a groove. She described the idea behind it as the exhaustion of being expected to be endlessly forgiving, soft, and accommodating, and how that expectation can erode your ability to be fully yourself. The line “feminine forgiveness will be my death sentence” lands hard for Julienne - a moment where personal experience is actually deeply shared by wom*n.
We also listened to Sweet Heart, Julienne’s first attempt at a love song - sultry, obsessive. The way I like my tracks. She described it as being about all-consuming desire, about wanting to devour the person you’re infatuated with. Love as cannibalism. Naturally.
For the second half of the show, Julienne took over soundtracking duties, sharing artists she’s been listening to and genuinely believes in. We heard the debut single Eyes on the Wind by Violet Harbour, who she predicts will be the next big thing - and honestly, it was hard to argue. They’ll be playing at this years Laneway with the likes of Chappelle Roan! She also shared Was Someone On Your Mind? by Siena Rebelo, a heartbreaking track she discovered through Instagram, and Fall For Me by Julia Ivory, whose debut release seriously rocked us to tears. Each recommendation felt personal, rooted in friendship, community, and genuine admiration for her fellow Sydney artists (and Perth honorary artist), exactly what The Bridge is about.
We wrapped the show up with Backseat by Kade Charlesworth, a final burst of glittery, emotional pop to lift us back out of the sadness. Before heading off, Julienne spoke about what’s next - a larger body of work slowly taking shape, collaborations she’s hoping for (reach out to her!!!), and a dream of playing on a stage framed by dramatic red velvet curtains somewhere far from here. Europe, ideally.
This show is intimate, honest, occasionally devastating, definitely raw, but never indulgent because Julienne is humble as hell. Her music is pure lyrical and poetic genius that doesn’t rush to a resolve. It sits with feeling, lets it breathe. You, the listener, must meet her halfway and let it in.
Julienne Harvey is one to watch out for. You are hearing it here first, on The Bridge baby.