FEATURE:
Spotlight
Hyd
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I will end…
with a review of the extraordinary new album from Hyd. Hold onto Me Infinity is one of the most extraordinary albums of the year for a stunning talent everyone should know about. Many already know about Hyd, though I don’t think there is the same awareness in the U.K. (they have a date here in October) as there is in their native U.S. They are Hayden Frances Dunham, an American performance artist, designer, singer, songwriter and D.J.. They grew up in Austin, Texas. There are interviews with Hyd from this year I want to come to. They were in conversation with Tourmaline for 032c. I am not including the entire thing, though there are aspects and part of the conversation that I am compelled to include:
“On the eve of the release of Hold Onto Me Infinity, Hyd was joined in conversation by activist, artist, filmmaker, and writer Tourmaline, who recently published Martha (2025), the first expansive biography on Marsha P. Johnson. Coming seven years after Happy Birthday, Marsha! (2018), the artist’s short film made in collaboration with Sasha Wortzel, the book is a continuation of Tourmaline’s two-decade research commitment to the life of the activist, performer, and cornerstone of the historic 1969 Stonewall Uprising and the subsequent founding of organizations such as the Gay Activists Alliance (GAA), the Gay Liberation Front (GLF), and the Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR). Equally an extension of the visual work she’s shown at the Whitney and Venice Biennales, and in solo and group presentations at Kunsthalle Brandhorst, MASP Sao Paulo, MUDAM Luxembourg, MASS MoCA, the Tate Modern, and Chapter New York over the years, Marsha reflects the expansive, care-based practice of its author, as it does her conversation partner, Dunham.
Tourmaline: Are there particular tracks where you feel that in this album? Or, do you think a root system extends throughout the entire album?
Hyd: Making this body of work has been this incredible scaffolding for me to move through this time. Clearing operated in the same way. I made Clearing in a calm time in my life, but whenever it touched the air, it felt like a past version of me made it for a future version of me.
Hold Onto Me Infinity holds that for me too. [It’s] the thing that has been supportive of me connecting with and celebrating what it is to have a body. And as you know Tourmaline, I have not always been like this. I feel like I have been more in an airspace, an in-between space, or not fully embodied.
PHOTO CREDIT: Bobbi Salvör Menuez
Tourmaline: Do you feel like you can pinpoint any “aha” moments—I remember the end of 2019 was a moment where I was like, oh, everything is vibrational, and it was so overwhelming—for this place that you’re in now?
Hyd: 2016 is when I first started working on this song “Makeover.” The song came through really fast. Some of the lyrics are about becoming new again, like “1-800, this ain’t working at all.” There was a moment where I needed to be reminded that anything can change at any moment, towards expansion and and towards feeling really.
Then, strangely, almost 10 years later, I found the files for this song, opened them and found these additional lyrics that I had written in 2016 with SOPHIE. They were about moving between timelines. Like, after we leave Earth, do we get to come back again? Is life in that way we knew before complete, or do we get to change forms again? And I realized that this song wasn’t about a physical makeover. It was about, on a soul level, being able to come back again. This was a real lightning moment for me where I realized that, again, we’re not held into one specific timeline. We get to be more expansive than our singular one form.
That’s when I realized that this body of work had actually already come through. I had already received it. It was done. I just had to let it go, have soft hands, and trust and surrender to the process. Those surrender moments where you don’t know but you just choose to trust—that’s when really strange, freaky things can happen. And I think all this work is a teacher where I get to be a student listening and trying to be more sensitive. It’s not like a fantasy or something like that. It’s a real thing that is happening, Earth-side and beyond.
I have a question for you now. Something that I have witnessed you do over and over again throughout our friendship is having a wild vision and bringing it into the physical. Is there a practice that you have [for this]?
Tourmaline: What I found is, if I can conjure the emotion, everything else fills in around it. And that sounds so vague, but if I can have feeling, the whole thing speeds up. That’s really my process. How about for you?
Hyd: I’m having that experience right now with the album. I have never been naturally gifted, or there are a lot of things that I had never been before that I then became by just doing them. Sometimes the fear of not doing something right or well can keep you from doing it, but the practice of being willing to see yourself in a way that you haven’t before—and the way that you know is true, that is resonant on a deep level but can’t be seen—just becomes. That is true of this body of work, where sometimes you just have to keep moving through with faith, with holding the vision when it’s not clear to other people. It’s interesting to try to consolidate it into language because it’s this thing outside of language.
Tourmaline: It’s like a gardener having faith that the seed is going to turn into a fully-formed, beautiful flower. It’s a leap of faith, the belief that just because it hasn’t happened before or we weren’t living it before doesn’t mean that we can’t usher it in right now. I was having the same thought when I got out of the shower this morning, about the difference between where I was and where I am right now. So much of that [difference] is in just doing the thing even when it’s bad, or getting that first draft done, or showing up on set.
Hyd: 100%. At some point that seed will be able to push through the ground and touch the sun. You’re bringing the water to the seed, but also rain happens—there’s a part of it that you don’t have to do, that you just trust”.
Prior to coming to a review of the extraordinary experience that is Hold onto Me Infinity, METAL spent some time with a multi-hyphenated talent who is absolutely wonderful. I hope they grow a larger fanbase here, as so many should see Hyd perform. I am not sure if they are performing in the U.K. later this year:
“Across twelve carefully balanced songs, the sound becomes a kind of sensory physics: something designed not only to be heard, but to be felt at a cellular level - as in Light Span, an emotional limbo - where vibration replaces distance and listening becomes a bodily event. It’s a record shaped by questions that hover between metaphysics and embodiment: where do people go after they leave, and what does that absence feel like: buoyant, weightless, or somehow still present in another form? These are not abstract speculations so much as felt inquiries - as in Make Me Believe - approached from inside the body and mind, where listening becomes a way of sensing what cannot be seen. It is almost like developing a conceptual system for relating to what is no longer here.
Dunham’s sense of connection - as heard in Freak - and collaboration runs through the album, where relationships persist beyond physical proximity or even presence. Watch You Cry explores the act of witnessing emotion in others. Moments shared with SOPHIE remain active within the work, sometimes difficult to return to, yet still carrying a charge, like a voice suspended in time that continues to speak. Makeover becomes a kind of contemporary archival artifact of internet and pop culture history. Hyd describes the album as a multisensory dialogue, where the boundaries between seeing, hearing, and feeling begin to dissolve.
The record unfolds as an environment in motion, alive with echoes of collaboration and shared worlds built alongside artists including Benny Long, Saint Patrick, Finn Keane, Tjörvi, Marcus Andersson, Michael Bailey-Gates, Bobbi Salvör Menuez, and many others, each contributing to an ecosystem that is as relational as it is sonic. In conversation, Dunham returns again and again to the act of listening: as attention, as contact, as a way of staying close to what cannot be held. We are then transported into a space of discovery, a psychological surface where things can be felt differently.
Their concurrent exhibition Never Is Over, on view at Company Gallery in New York until the 13th of June, stages this directly: voices held in fragile vessels, light-sensitive materials that only reveal themselves through rupture, and sonic frequencies that seem to exist at the edge of perception. Together, these works suggest a continuous loop between presence and absence, as if each form is always becoming another.
What follows is an interview, taking place just before their North American tour, that traces these connections and references from Sally Ride to The Neverending Story, from their incredible method of verifying that you are indeed a freak to the significance of chocolate chip cookie buttons; between the intimate act of listening and the possibility that nothing, once felt, ever fully leaves.
Your new album is about to be released into the world. I’ve had the chance to listen to it and was completely blown away. The first thing that stood out to me was the production: it feels like a very particular kind of sound architecture, which is quite difficult to achieve nowadays within experimental or alternative pop soundscapes. How happy are you with the final result?
It’s kind of a miracle that it’s here to me. I was really close to putting it into a vessel and burying it in the ground, but somehow we’re here now.
There’s a huge sense of depth throughout the album: not just in its layers, but in something almost ethereal. There are so many details: the delicate percussion in both Freak and Make Me Believe, the synths in Take Care of Me, the textures in Light Span. What was the process of curating the album’s sonic world like?
It started with adding a matchstick to volcanic gas, leading to an air-forward bubbling up from underlayers of the earth. The bouncing kept getting bigger until it was more bodied and brash, even. But the truth about these big drums is that inside is a pretty soft and even tender voice. I wanted the sonic palette to be big but really, on a cellular level, make people vibrate. Or want to vibrate. I guess the sound could be described as alive.
“I love thinking about where people go after they leave here. If it is actually buoyant and bright, or does it feel weightless? Expansive or something else?”
In Freak, there’s a really compelling narrative about connecting with someone, whether as friendship or something deeper. It has so many layers of meaning, and I can clearly see a queer interpretation of it, especially in the way language and labels are reclaimed or transformed. What can you tell us about this song?
Yes. First off, I love freaks. Anyone who feels like they aren’t from around here, or haven’t found a way to connect into whatever is going on earthside. This song is about that moment where you think you find someone else who is like you, but in order to be sure you might have to look to a series of clues and receive help from a past or future version of yourself.
In my case, this song takes place in Texas, in high school, with my first crush, and realising that the only way I could be close to her was through proxies like becoming the boy she was kissing in her car. Or becoming the cake she delivered to my room at 4 am with a Flannery O’Connor story baked inside. The video, made with my dear friend Kelly McCormick, features a version of me as a quantum time-travelling villain helping out a past version of me to locate secret intel. Making this video felt like a rehearsal for the rest of my life in pure joy.
The video is fantastic. Watching it and reading about your work made me think about your solo art show at Company Gallery in New York. I was wondering how parallel the development of the exhibition and the album were, and if they influenced one another creatively.
It’s pretty wild: Hold Onto Me Infinity and Never Is Over happening at the same time. I love multisensory dialogues, when you get a taste in your mouth of something you’re looking at. When sound you hear becomes a texture you can see. Both bodies of work are extensions of this research.
In Never Is Over, your solo exhibition, unassuming vessels placed throughout the gallery contain recorded voices of the departed who have some connection to you. The accompanying text explains: “These sounds can only be heard if the objects themselves are broken open, the light-sensitive contents inside are unlocked by the sun, and the voices set free.” What has the response to this piece been like so far?
I love it when people spontaneously start crying. I mean, in all circumstances, I just love it. At the opening, I hid in the dark and watched people experiencing the piece, and this kind of stuff is something I love about exhibitions. You really get to use all senses to make something new. I worked with Saint Patrick on the score and the sound of black holes, and also people's voices who I love who are no longer here.
Then, the song with the same title on the album contains this verse: “Left me in a cloud of doubt / Even though you're not here / I still see you laughing at the piano / Saying 'it's okay to cry' / In the way that it's over / Never is really over.” When I looked up the lyrics more closely, it suddenly clicked, and I realised the song is about SOPHIE. It’s incredibly beautiful. In that sense, Makeover is not just a standout moment on the album, it feels like a piece of internet and pop culture history. If I'm correct, you worked on this song with SOPHIE, and it was first heard in Washington, D.C. around 2016. Listening to it now feels like a treat for many reasons, one of them being how incredible the two of you sound together. It's not the first time we've heard your collaborations, but this one feels especially fitting within Hold Onto Me Infinity. What was it like working with her on this song?
We started Makeover at home in LA one morning. Usually she would go out for a coffee and bring me back a chocolate chip cookie button. This morning I had been in sass level ten mode (aka almost lethal levels of sass) and said to her, ‘1-800, this ain’t working, at all,’ about her days-long open suitcase on the floor, and she started laughing, and that was the catalyst for the song. This kind of stuff was a big part of how we communicated.
The lyric “Are those your clothes sprawled out across the floor?” was also the landscape of our bedroom at the time. We had been in LA for maybe a year, and there was this idea about becoming new. Like that we get to choose to be a new version of ourselves at any time. And maybe that can happen through new choices or new practices or new things aka “New car, new body, new activewear, new everything…" but really Makeover held this other note. That at any moment you could make yourself new again.
Later, the lyrics became more broad strokes: do we get to return here again to earth, or do we only get one life here, or “do we get more,” as in can we come back again to earth after we leave. This was a special fixation for me for reasons I didn’t understand at the time, but then now I understand why.
Sometime last year, I was driving to meet her brother Benny Long, who is also a brilliant producer, and the Notes app on my phone from that original session appeared. I had just locked my car and thought, oh wow. And as I scrolled down, I saw the second verse. Sometimes I have a hard time going back into these spaces SOPHIE and I made together because it holds so much for me, but getting to hear her voice in that session really carries me. Sometimes in sessions when I open them, I can hear her laughing too just after a recording or things like that. It feels like a present hidden in time for this moment right now. That, or I choose to see it that way.
You're about to tour North America and present the album live. How are rehearsals going? Given your wider artistic practice, how have you approached conceiving the live show?
The live show might be my favourite part of making music. I love being in a room together singing. Rehearsals have involved vaporised metal, flashlights and clean white socks. I hope I can pull it off. There’s this element of going so far beyond what is physically possible that I almost can't do it that really gets exciting to me.
Looking back at your debut EP in 2021, how do you feel about the work you've developed over the last few years?
It feels like a conversation I have been having for years now that is held in a sonic format. Some of it was with SOPHIE, some of it was with myself, but a lot of it is with the universe at large. For a while it was just for me, but I feel really honored to get to share it with other people. I love my collaborators so much: SOPHIE, Benny Long, Hudson Mohawk, Finn Keane, Saint Patrick, Tjörvi, Chris Lyons, Marcus Andersson, Michael Bailey-Gates, Tourmaline, Bobbi Salvör Menuez, Aaron Chan, Hedia Maron, Jeff and Cascine, Aimee Goguen, Kelly McCormick, Azsa West. Just getting to make new worlds with my friends that then we get to live in. And I get to activate, it's very profound to me. And something that with PC Music, we have done together for such a long time. It's really special to get to witness people in their practice for all of these years”.
I am finishing up with a review of Hold onto Me Infinity. Brooklyn Vegan provided their take on a phenomenal album that I would urge anyone reading this to go and listen to. I feel we will be hearing a lot more from Hyd. So many years where they will evolve as an artist and do so much good in the music world:
“Hayden Dunham and SOPHIE were close collaborators and partners, and the presence of the iconic producer, who we lost in 2021, haunts Hold Onto Me Infinity, Dunham’s second album as Hyd. SOPHIE first premiered the audacious “Makeover” at a Washington DC set in 2016, and she’s also credited as a producer on the upbeat “Make Me Believe,” along with Hudson Mohawke, who worked on much of the album. Then there’s “Never Is Over,” with its lines, “I still see you laughing at the piano / Saying, ‘it’s okay to cry,'” which seem to directly reference SOPHIE’s 2017 single and Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides opening track. In addition to the loss of SOPHIE, Dunham’s brother was killed in a 2024 hit-and-run, and while these major losses leave traces all over Hold Onto Me Infinity, particularly in its lyrics, my main takeaway is how full of bangers it is. It starts with two of the most irresistible slices of art-pop I’ve heard all year and never lets up. “Angel” is all bright, ebullient synths and infectious melodies, while “Freak” revolves around its extremely quotable chorus, “that girl is a freak, yeah she’s just like me.” It’s my early choice for song of the summer; arriving on the eve of Memorial Day Weekend, this album is here just in time”.
There will be some people seeing this who have not heard of Hyd. They are such a singular talent, you do really need to follow Hyd on social media. I am quite new to their work, but I was immediately engrossed. The magnificent Hyd will stun and amaze…
FOR a very long time.
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