Hawks grew up in the foster system, a fact she refuses to exploit for pathos but cannot separate from her art. “When you’re moved from house to house, you learn that silence is dangerous,” she explains during a chaotic backstage interview before a sold-out show at London’s The Windmill. “So I fill every second. My songs are clutter. They’re the stuff you hide in your closet.”
Lyrically, Hawks is a poet of the digital age’s loneliness. Her song “DM Slide” isn’t a love song—it’s a forensic takedown of performative intimacy, set to a beat that sounds like a dying Game Boy. Meanwhile, the piano-driven ballad “Social Housing” chronicles her childhood with a chilling simplicity: “The walls had mold / But they held / Better than the people.” emma rosie, demi hawks
Her stage presence is volcanic. During a recent performance of her track “Spite,” she dismantled her own drum kit mid-song, handed the snare to a fan, and finished the track using only a broken cymbal and a megaphone. The audience wept and moshed in equal measure. Hawks grew up in the foster system, a
Neither artist entertains the rivalry. In fact, when Rosie was asked about Hawks in a recent NME interview, she smiled. “Demi scares me in the best way. She writes like someone who has nothing left to lose. I write like someone who’s afraid of losing everything. Same coin, different sides.” My songs are clutter
In an era where streaming algorithms often dictate taste, the quiet revolution happening in the corners of Bandcamp and sold-out intimate club shows feels almost sacred. At the heart of this movement are two women who have never met—yet whose careers mirror each other with uncanny symmetry: Emma Rosie and Demi Hawks .
“I used to think songs had to be grand,” Rosie says over a grainy Zoom call, her vintage flannel hanging off one shoulder. “Then I realized the most devastating thing you can say is just, ‘You said forever, but you meant next Tuesday.’ ”