Kelly Lee Owens is having a moment. The Welsh-born DJ and musician’s high profile schedule has been in full swing all year, playing for thousands-large crowds at festivals like Glastonbury and All Points East, bouncing around parties and shows at London Fashion Week, and, in a personal highlight, taking the stage at Charli XCX’s legendary PartyGirl set in Ibiza, performing with a femme-foward lineup that included Shygirl, Romy, and Kettama.
Though she insists the much-streamed moment wasn’t a “big deal,” it illustrated just how much raving and club culture have taken over the zeitgeist. It also couldn’t have been better timing, as Owens prepared for the release of her fourth studio record, Dreamstate, out today. An album of transcendent, euphoric highs and lush, meditative techno, Dreamstate is perfectly crafted to meet the current moment, where club music reigns supreme on the dancefloor.
But a trend chaser Owens is not. The 36-year-old singer, who also executively produces all of her music, is a veteran in the dance scene, after getting noticed in 2017 when her music first caught the ear of the late designer Alexander McQueen—a moment this magazine covered. She’s releasing Dreamstate through dH1, a brand-new electronic music imprint at independent label Dirty Hit, led by The 1975 drummer (and Charli’s fiancé), George Daniel.
“I am so, so excited and honored to have Kelly’s incredible new album Dreamstate be the first album on dh2,” Daniel tells W. “I have been such a fan and admired her work for almost a decade now, since 2016’s ‘Kingsize.’ I used to bump it in my car when I had a subwoofer and a VW Golf. Her taste and attention to detail is really second to none.”
As Owens enters a new phase of her career, one that’s much more public-facing than her past era as an esoteric artist found mostly behind the decks, W caught up with her to debrief about Brat summer, the spirituality behind her new record, and how women are the real winners of the current club music renaissance.
The album seems to be about opening oneself up to new possibilities. What made you want to explore that theme?
Since 2022, I felt all of this energy coming to me, like a [spiritual] download. It doesn’t always feel like the easiest thing to keep your humanity and softness in a world that’s so complex and overwhelming. The only constant is change, so [you have to ask yourself], “How do I take care of myself? How do I reach for the light within that darker, deepest well moment? Am I okay in the darker, more vulnerable throes of myself?” And I am, the more I move through my life. Dreamstate is a celebration of that.
Did you have any daily spiritual practices while making Dreamstate?
I lived in Australia for about a year and was learning how to surf. I had experiences with these giant waves coming in and sometimes crashing on my head. The last thing you do in that moment is struggle and waste your precious breath, your oxygen. The only thing you can do is remain calm. That taught me so much. Then I ended up moving back to London, and I was very grateful for the culture—the access to theater and musicals and cinema. I soaked that up like a sponge. It was this beautiful balance of art in nature and art in the urban setting. That very much sums up my life and my career: amazing things nourishing me.
Were you listening to any music that influenced you?
I would find myself coming back to Madonna’s Ray of Light. There’s an energy about it where you have darkness, and then obviously the euphoric light of “Ray of Light.”
For your debut album, you were learning about sound baths and solfeggio frequencies. Was there anything new that you were studying for Dreamstate?
The art of collaboration, that is what I was challenged with. I am the author of my creations, whether I work with five people or one person or just myself—I have the vision and I’m the executive producer of everything I do. But this time, I threw myself into studios with people like the Chemical Brothers, which I’d never done before. It was terrifying, but I know that’s where I grow, and so I just showed up. Last year it was Depeche Mode, Underworld, Bicep, playing with them or collaborating. I also got to be in a studio just hanging out with Flood, the super famous producer who produced PJ Harvey. He’s got a Nokia phone, barely replies to anyone, yet somehow he made that connection happen.
You have been having a huge moment in your career, and club music is the most mainstream it’s been in awhile. What’s it been like for you to see this field just explode?
Women, especially, are just killing it at the moment. FKA twigs, her new album is quite techno-y in elements, right? And then, obviously, Charli [XCX]. Sometimes you can think, “Oh, people [are] jumping on trends,” but actually, no. I’m not a trend, and what I do as an artist is here to stay. It’s all capturing the essence of what is needed now. To me, it’s a totally natural thing that post a pandemic like that, we would want to create music that fills up giant spaces, that is like a mantra where we can come together and celebrate life. That makes so much sense to me. Women are being front-and-center with dance and electronic in a way that’s cool as fuck. I will always be for that.
