Unplugged Lounge Conversations with LEXA

For LEXA, music didn’t begin as a career ambition but as a necessity shaped by movement, disruption, and self-discovery. Originally immersed in musical theatre from a young age—including a West End debut at the London Palladium in 2011—her early life was rooted in performance, dance, and stage work. But everything shifted when her family moved to Devon in 2012, a change that dramatically limited her access to creative outlets and pushed her inward. That sense of creative isolation became the catalyst for songwriting. At 13, she began building her own sonic world from scratch, using a MacBook and GarageBand to create early demos in search of a voice that felt entirely her own. What started as experimentation quickly grew into a defining form of expression—one that would carry her from theatre stages into a deeply personal music practice shaped by honesty, resilience, and self-invention.

Thanks for chatting with us at Sonic Sisters Magazine! Can you share a bit about how your journey into music began?

Thank you so much for chatting with me, Sonic Sisters, it is a beautiful gift to be heard and platformed as a trans artist. I grew up in musical theatre, leading to my west end debut in 2011 at the London Palladium, as well as competing in national dance competitions and other local shows, but in 2012 my family moved to Devon. It was such a culture shock to me, as a queer kid whose life had become consumed by performing, and it was this sudden lack of opportunities around me that led to writing my own music when I was 13. My dad purchased a macbook and I spent hours creating demos on Garageband, hoping to find my own voice in music.

Who have been some of the most significant influences on your musical style?

My family raised me as a fan of indie rock. My mum’s car tended to have three CDs of choice, either The Fratellis, Gorillaz or Scouting For Girls, and I think it is those early influences I have been craving to come back to with my upcoming EP. With emotive lyricism, funky production and a sense of cathartic, organic instrumentation that I yearn for in a world so conditioned to seek and expect perfection. Modern day artists that continue to inspire me are Cavetown, BENEE and Devon Again, who continue to embrace this marriage of an experimental electronic sound with messy, real instruments.

And which female musicians or women in the music industry have inspired your journey?

I am one of those listeners who fills 90% of her playlists with female artists. There is a purpose and care that I notice in the music released by women that tends to resonate with me on a deeper level. I will forever be grateful to my mum for putting me in front of Kylie Minogue music videos when I was 2 years old, as well as my school friend who bought me my first Ariana Grande CD. Listening to Rachel Chinouriri, Holly Humberstone, Griff, Caroline Polacheck, Sarah Kinsley and more artists of this calibre are literally my drive. I hear those women delicately explore their vulnerability in such beautiful ways combining pop, indie rock and alternative influences that I can’t help but want to explore my own pain the same way.

How do your personal experiences shape your songwriting, and what do you hope listeners take away from those connections?

Look, I’m a cancer through and through. Emotional. I am a songwriter for a living, I love turning stories and people’s vulnerability into something that rhymes, I can explore other people’s stories without the need to tap into as much of my own pain and rely on my musical ability. So, when it comes to my own music, I’m not writing for the sake of releasing, I am writing because it feels like a necessity. I’m not sure how I would have even begun to process the things I have experienced in life, if it hadn't been for my ability to write music. The thing that then makes me want to release a song for my own artist project is often the desire to be heard. It’s a way for me to take this process of pain or emotion and capsulise it, solidify it in a way that feels unique, in hopes to resonate and connect with at least one listener and help them to find the words for their own experiences, in the way so many artists helped me narrate my own.

Congratulations on the release of ‘Baggage Claim’! What inspired this particular song?

There is a funny story behind this one. I was finishing my track ‘Shoulder’, a love song on my previous EP, which is about wanting to take the weight of pain, trauma and hurt off your partner’s shoulders and it hit me. I feel like so much of the weight I had begun to carry was the pain of my ex, who the song ‘Shoulder’ is about, which led to this idea of being left alone at the baggage claim. He had gone, but I was still choosing to collect and carry all the care and worry I had taken on. So, I took this concept to my friend SATCH and we wrote the song together in essentially a cupboard in Brighton in about an hour. Two weeks after writing the song and deciding to take it to production… I found out that same ex was now working in an airport. It felt like fate.

What song (not your own) has had the biggest influence on you and why?

I am absolutely obsessed with Cavetown. Their recent album, ‘Running With Scissors’, has been on repeat for the last year and getting to see it performed live on tour was transcendent, truly. To narrow it down to one song feels impossible, but I think I’d have to name ‘Sailboat’, featuring another favourite artist of mine, Chloe Moriondo. It is the epitome of the blend of messy rock guitars and organic drums with alternative electronic influence and delicate, stylish vocal production that literally sets my cells into some kind of trance-like, medicinal state, reminiscent of Gorillaz and Muse that I adored growing up, but with a breakbeat twist and a transgender voice that instantly resonates with me. INCREDIBLE.

Is there a song in your catalog that holds a special personal meaning for you? We'd love to hear the story or inspiration behind it.

‘Baggage Claim’ is a particularly special song, because of the way it helped me to process my break up and ended up feeling like fate. However, it also brought together three trans creatives, as I wrote it with SATCH, an incredible trans songwriter, and then co-produced it with my friend Charlieeeee, a non-binary producer and one of my closest friends. That felt pretty special to me.

What are some of the aspirations you have for your music moving forward?

The music industry seems to be shifting… it always has been, but I think it feels more rapid now than ever. A lot of the things I aspired for were linked to previously respected levels of success, and as I learn more and more about the darkness of the world and how unsustainable our way of living is, my goals have become more and more internal. My true dream is to be able to live a comfortable enough life, where I can afford to adopt and have a family and still find time and energy to create music in a way that feels fulfilling. After being a lead role in ‘Sex Education’, headlining Pride in London at Leicester Square, and being friends with one of my all-time inspirations, that goal of comfort in conjunction with music still feels so far away, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I also love the idea of just continuing to find community in music, to keep learning more skills and becoming a more accomplished musician and producer, as well as a healthier person. There are so many other avenues to earn a living from music than the younger version of me, who desperately wanted to be a pop star, realised and I can feel myself getting closer and closer to some of those different paths each year.

What advice would you give to emerging female artists who are just starting out in the music world?

Don’t diminish yourself as a result of comparison. I once sat in on my friend running a production workshop, and they asked “who here is a producer” and not one woman put their hand up. Slowly, as we went round and introduced ourselves, it became apparent that every single one of those women have either released a self-produced track, or often produce demos or help other artists with production, and I couldn’t help but butt in and say: “if a man had the experience that you have, do you think he would sit there and say he’s not a producer? Because I don’t. I think you’ve all described to me exactly what a producer does.” Self-deprication only feels safe because it is keeping us from reaching the next level of learning and opportunities that are going to less-qualified people, just because they feel more deserving.

Before we wrap up, is there anything else you’d like to say to our readers?

Keep your eyes peeled, your priorities in check and your heart open and you’ll make a great musician yourself.