What were the conversations like between the two of you leading up to this?

We’re working on another record, and we are finally out of our last deal and in control of what happens with the band next for the first time in our entire career. We’re now in a position to make all of the decisions ourselves, rather than just do what we think we have to do at any given moment. That freedom started to change the conversation about what we want this project to be. We began thinking about how we want to project our values, both in relation to the capitalism of the music industry and in terms of our connection to the people who want to listen to us.

It also extends to how we want to live in the world. How can we reach toward a future that is supportive of humanity and creativity? Particularly in our country, where the arts have always been deeply controlled by corporations that act as a middleman inserted into everything. Trying to figure out an alternative so that the art we make is directly passed to the people who want to have it in their lives — that was our general goal.

In terms of the conversations that Nick and I had about deciding to take our music off of Spotify, it wasn’t even really a conversation. The moment that we wondered, “What would it be like if we actually controlled how people listened to our music?” it became very obvious. We barely even talked about it.

One morning we both woke up, we made coffee, and it was not long after the news of Spotify CEO Daniel Ek’s investment in the AI drone company. Amelia just said, “I think we should take our music off Spotify.” And I said, “I’ve been thinking the exact same thing.” That was just it. Then the conversation became: How can we do it? The “Why?” and the “Should we?” and all that was so fast.

It feels like an artist taking their music off of Spotify is like a fly getting out of a spider’s web. How does it actually work?

Logistically, for the person who controls the position of the music on the streaming platform, it’s very easy — you just click a button. The problem is that most artists don’t control that button. Their label controls the button; their distributor controls the button; somebody else is in charge of the rights to their work, and they don’t have the ability to make that decision for themselves. It requires a negotiation with a corporation.

On top of that, Spotify is just far and away the largest streaming platform. So even in a world where they pay artists borderline nothing, it’s still the lion’s share of most musicians’ streaming income.

So you have to be both in a logistically privileged situation and in a financially privileged situation to even be able to have the option to do it. For us, we suddenly realized that we finally are in both of those positions. In our wildest hopes, our decision might be one of the many dominoes that falls that make Spotify not the biggest streaming company in the world anymore.

We also want to emphasize the actual ability to own a copy of our music. It used to be that you would buy a computer, and it was a tool that you could control and use. Now the ability to organize your files and know where the things you own are and access them is disappearing. Increasingly it feels like you’re renting the computer and you’re renting the ability to use different programs or apps on it, as opposed to understanding how to buy a music file and put it in the right place so that you could listen to it when you wish to.

Yeah, I grew up with MP3 blogs, and just because it’s a digital file doesn’t mean you can’t lovingly curate them. I miss that. Are you making a bet that your listeners do too?

This is the dream.

But that’s the thing. We can’t control that. All we can control is what we do as artists. We hope that fans want to meet us there. I have a lot of faith in the people who listen to our band that they will. But I’m sure we’ll lose a lot of people doing this, and that’s just the reality of being early.

That’s okay. I think for me at this point in my life and also at this point living in America, I’m just more ready to make principled decisions that destroy giant parts of my income and livelihood. That makes me feel good. And I feel lucky to be in a position to do that.

It’s amazing how good this feels. It’s been making me realize how complacent and comfortable I have become in making decisions that I don’t agree with, that I don’t like, in order to have visibility as an artist or have music available as a listener. What we’re actually saying here is that there’s another way. You can own it. We’re trading the illusion of having our music on your phone for you to actually have our music.

And you can still get it for free. We give it away everywhere. It takes the smallest amount of searching to still find all of our music for free.

Can we back up to how you’re experiencing this moment in American life and how that intersects with your thinking here?

It’s all one song, you know what I mean?

Our decision to do this is a hopeful and aggressive first step in trying to overcome the terrifying nihilism that we’re contending with every day all of the time, trying to live and present our work in the way that we believe everyone deserves.

And that’s why it feels good.

Even though it’s a really bad decision.

It is a terrible decision.

I love that you guys are so candid about this. You’re like, “This is potentially devastating, and it’s the best thing we’ve ever done.”

Burn it down.

You know better than me what the mood among musicians is with regard to Spotify. Do you feel like it just requires some front-runners to withdraw their music and that others might actually follow?

I want to highlight that this is a privileged decision that not every artist gets to make. My hope, obviously, is that it will inspire other people who are in similar positions of privilege to make this same decision. Either way, I just want people to be able to do the thing that feels right. Right now, I think we all feel trapped in doing the thing the corporations want us to do.

But the bigger thing is that it isn’t the artists that make this specific company the biggest company. It’s the people who pay to listen to it on the service. In that sense, it’s a targeted action of protest: we want somebody to go and search for us on Spotify, like they do all the time, and then see that we’re not there and have to think about why we’re not there.

If someone wants to listen to your music, what do they do?

Go anywhere else.

They can go to YouTube, they can go to Apple Music, they can go to Tidal.

Pay what you want on Bandcamp. Bandcamp is the best. For artists, they are hands down the easiest, most convenient way.

I know we talked about what’s so great about downloading and owning files, but I notice a lot of those are streaming options.

Yeah, we aren’t against streaming.

As a listener, I love streaming. The issue is the way that it has been monetized and the way it has been used to control artists and specifically that there is currently a monopoly in the space. Just like in concerts: there’s also a monopoly in that space with Ticketmaster, but I love playing concerts, and I’m going to keep playing shows. I would like for our music to continue to be available on a lot of streaming platforms because I want people to be able to find it when a friend tells them about it very quickly.

With Spotify in particular, the most glaring issue is the fact that the money the CEO makes directly funds machines that kill people. That was the tipping point for us. But they have been terrible forever. They pay the least. They have this pro rata streaming amount system, and it’s all wildly untransparent. And then on top of that, they’ve been heavily investing in AI music that they then flood their own playlists with to enrich themselves and take more of the percentage that they give to artists — which is already nothing — and pay it back into their own company.

It feels so anti-art. Everything that they’re doing, all of their actions, make it clear that they’re against music in general.

Really, what has to happen is people need to begin boycotting. That was one of the main reasons why we decided to do this, because boycotts work. We just need more people to become aware of what’s happening and think about their decisions and choices and encounter an alternative.

And while it’s difficult for a lot of artists to boycott Spotify, it’s very easy for the listener to do it. We want to be connected directly to the people who like our music without somebody in the middle of that.

The thing that feels the most satisfying to me as an art maker is to make something and hand it to somebody else and see them receive it. It’s why mutual aid feels so much better than just donating money.

We want to contribute to a sense that it doesn’t have to be this way. Our friends in the band Hotline TNT have also pulled their music off Spotify, and they made a statement where they ended by saying, “A cooler world is possible.” It’s just there if we want it. It’s like the John Lennon thing: “War is over if you want it.” It’s literally up to every one of us. We are the ones who give these people the power.

The single you chose to release today coinciding with your announcement, “WDID,” doesn’t feel coincidental. I read the lyrics; it’s pretty clearly a statement on the streaming and algorithm era. How did this song come about, and why did you choose it for this moment?

Sometimes this magical thing happens where I will be working in the backyard, which is where I like to write song lyrics and melody, and Nick will be in our studio working on a beat, and when we come back together we find we’re on the exact same page. That happened here. I walked back to him and sang the full song, and it just worked.

All of the lyrics came so easily because I was simply reporting the things I had seen on my Instagram stories and the incredible terrifying gauntlet that we all put our brains through — usually first thing in the morning when we just decide that instead of being alone with ourselves, we are going to receive anything that anyone thought to post — and the terrifying juxtaposition of that, of everything being presented on the same level.

I’m getting goosebumps talking about it. Not only does it hurt the delicate flora and fauna of our delicate bodies, but it’s so scary and unhealthy. It is not the way I want to receive news or any delicate and important information. The fact that within my pocket is both an account of unfolding disaster and also a mall —

And in a kind of monotone sequence, like, dismembered child, skincare cream, dismembered child, skincare cream, somebody’s political opinion.

It’s hypernormalization.

You go, “Oh my God, I feel like I have to do something.” And then you go, “I know, I’m going to buy this skincare cream so I can take care of myself.”

That’s so true. It’s putting you in an action mood, but the only real actions you can take on your phone are shopping and posting.

Exactly. The platform not only lets you buy the cream but also creates the illusion of you taking action when you turn around and disseminate the terrifying and unsettling imagery.

I don’t know if you all had the experience of being sort of force-fed the Charlie Kirk video —

We managed to avoid it, but the fact that a part of that was forcing us all to watch a snuff video. . .

It felt like we crossed the Rubicon: that we were all being auto-exposed to a snuff video in between ads, and not just any snuff video but one that was encouraging us to instinctively take sides, filling us with hate for each other, nudging us toward a civil war.

It was the distillation of the whole thing. The nihilism of the little boy army that we’re all dealing with right now is really frightening, not least because it’s so successful in forcing everybody to feel something and immediately decide what it’s about.

Totally. The temperature just went all the way up immediately.

Because it both means nothing and it applies to everybody’s issues.

Right, it’s empty but prismatic and all-encompassing.

Maybe the most emblematic act of the moment.

I think so too.

And that’s how everything feels. I feel that way when I’m at the grocery store now. And that’s what this song is about. This one showed up in a moment of deep shared frustration. We must have had a conversation that morning about this or woken up in similar states of distress. I came in here and made a beat that expressed my side of it. Amelia went and wrote her piece that expressed her side of it. Then we came together and were like, “Oh, as usual, we’re totally aligned on this thing.” And pretty quickly we realized that this song shouldn’t be on the record. It should come out now.

And the morning we decided that we should get off Spotify, it was like, “Oh, this is the song.”

We’ve covered a lot of ground. I want to give you the option before we get off to say anything else that’s on your mind.

Put your phone down, and tell the people you love that you love them. Take care of each other. That’s more important than any other stuff we talked about. That’s the point of the whole thing.

At this moment in general, it is really easy for us to just stare at each other in disbelief and in fear — or to not stare at anyone, to just stare at a wall and feel isolated and alone. One of the reasons I chose music as the main communicator is that everyone feels ownership over music. Everyone feels the immediate ability to identify with music. It is not like a painting. People don’t feel like they need a background in academia to connect with it. By choosing to take our music off of Spotify, we’re trying to point to something bigger: the ability to also take ownership of our brains and our dollars and direct them toward something we believe in.