Among the ghosts of California lies Lonnie Frisbee, a once-lauded Jesus Freak–era preacher whose divergence from traditional mid-century evangelism saw droves of hippies joining him in prayer all along the West Coast. With his long hair and penchant for LSD, the phenomena and contradictions of Frisbee could only exist within the Californian psyche—something that Rex Laurent captures perfectly in her song named after the long-gone preacher. Lonnie Frisbee is laced with strange iconography, modern contradictions, and the subtle surrealism that the Golden Coast bathes in, themes which also drive her debut album Sellers Remorse.
Sellers Remorse paints a frank yet poetic portrait of Los Angeles. With lines like “You’ll go see old Tarantino at the New Beverly till LA turns to dust” in New Beverly, or the list of cultural fixtures that make up her song Stars, They’re Just Like Us!, the album is filled with witty observations, foreboding, and candid reflection, creating a sonic snapshot of young life within the City of Angels. In the world of Rex, you’ll find yourself at tables with rich benefactors, watching LA fall apart while simultaneously flourishing on your way home, and on hazy beaches contemplating characters you’ve met while living on the continental shelf—scenes that, in one way or another, draw from the singer-producer’s life.
Based on her Seeking Arrangements username and a comic strip made by the musician, the artist we now know as Rex Laurent has been a long time in the making. From time spent in a predatory label, multiple trials and errors with projects, and an initially failed stint in Los Angeles after temporarily dropping out of college, Rex has seen more than most by the time she put out her first full project. Born and raised in Massachusetts, Rex instinctively gravitated toward music, picking up the piano at age seven—a talent that would eventually lead her to the doorsteps of Berklee, where her life took a wild turn. Rex describes those college years in a mixed way, simultaneously throwing herself into coursework and delving deeper into her artistry while also in the midst of turmoil and her first record deal.
Now, years later, Rex flips through an off-label illustrated 12-step book as she talks about her life, how she got to Sellers Remorse, and her recent downtown show.
DTW: Would you say that Rex Laurent is a character?
This is something I’m dealing with right now, figuring out how to expand on that, but the whole original idea was based on my experiences in Boston before getting sober.
DTW: When it comes to your writing, it’s poetic, very blatant, and filled with modern and literary references. What is your writing process like?
I was really inspired by Lana Del Rey’s past few albums. I was really growing to appreciate not directly talking about feelings. When I’m writing, I’m always looking for other ways to say things—some poetic way to say it or bring in random objects to set the tone and establish the location, and then also just going deep into the metaphorical. I was definitely doing that a lot in Lonnie Frisbee. And I’ve gotten flack about that song because people are like, “What is this even about?” Maybe I went too far.
DTW: What are your thoughts on LA and what it means for you in the record?
I only lived here for eight months the first time. I just got a taste of it. Then I went back and rode out the pandemic in Boston and just thought about LA the whole time. In my head, it was like everything would be better if I lived there. I think that’s part of the overarching theme of the album, which is disillusionment, which I feel is something that happens a lot in LA. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that I’d move here and everything would be fine, but I kind of oversold the backdrop. Living in LA, the deterioration of the relationship that most of the songs are about, and the pursuit of success, were the things that I was being disillusioned with when I was writing the album.
DTW: Some of your original marketing was heavily tied to religion. As you’ve grown artistically, that’s shifted. Would you care to speak on that shift?
I wasn’t raised that way. Recovery was the reason I got woke to Jesus. My parents were afraid of the IRS; other people’s parents are afraid of going to hell. But when I got into recovery I had an experience where I was like, “Oh, God’s got me.” It’s funny—I kind of speed-ran the whole evangelical thing where I was talking about God a lot. I know a lot of people who were triggered by it because they have a different experience. I was definitely having a spiritual bypass where I was using that to kind of escape real life. Then I tried to tone it down. It was a novel experience to me, but it’s not a novel experience in general. In context with the record, I think it kind of just paints a modern portrait again of disillusionment, and I think religion, for a lot of us right now, is part of that.
DTW: We’ve covered religion, we’ve covered California. Are there any other inspirations you want to touch on?
Most of the relationships I’ve had since being in LA have been with people who work in film or who aspire to work in film but aren’t yet working in film. I made a Letterboxd, like laid up in bed with a man. I got into movies, but at first it was, “Oh, is this me just trying to do what he’s doing.” That dynamic—I felt like I was source material for these people. One of the early names for the project that became Sellers Remorse was Witness. I was very into the idea of exhibitionism and living my life a certain way for certain people to see, and the hollowness of that.
DTW: Your song “Backroom,” especially the nightcore edit, became popular on socials. What was that moment like for you?
My manager was behind a lot of those pushes—she was the one who sped it up because the nightcore version was the one that was doing really well. I guess it was the right choice because that was when I pivoted the project to Rex. My last project—I don’t know—I had consistently maybe like 10 to 15K monthlies on Spotify. I was attached to that, and I was afraid to abandon that. But I had to have a real talk with myself and be like, “Oh, is that the ceiling? Like, is that as high as you think it’s going to get?” But I believe in Rex, and at that point, I was like, I think this can be different, and I think I can really step out with this and stand on it.
DTW: How did you meet your manager? What was that like?
I have two managers. Ele, who I met at Berklee—she was kind of trying to A&R me into the school’s label, so we met up and we just became cool. Then she randomly hit me up during the pandemic when I was in my bad record deal. She was just like, “Hey, how are things going? I would love to help you out in any way I can.” She helped me get out of my deal. She had a professor who was a lawyer who she had kept in touch with, and he so graciously helped us negotiate our way out of that for very little money—it’s insane. She’s really been there from the mud. And then there’s my other manager, Jack Ellis.
DTW: What was it like getting that first record deal? How did it all go down?
Oh, I was like, “I’m having my Miley Cyrus moment.” Like, this is the moment—I made it. I think it was because everything up until then had just happened so naturally. I was 19, and I was just like, “Yeah, of course this is happening next. What else would happen next?” And then I just had absolutely no guard up for anything going wrong. I just jumped out with no parachute and trusted what people said. It felt really good at the start because I got an advance—it was not even a big one. I was just going into another phase of life where everything was paid for and all the decisions were being made for me. I didn’t really notice how bad it was until we started getting into some meetings with other labels and management.
Photo Credits: Lena Hindes
DTW: What made it so bad?
I think I just signed away more of my rights than I thought I did.
DTW: To switch it up a little bit, you had one of your first shows recently in Downtown LA for the release of Sellers Remorse. What was that like?
The show was great. I mean, I felt ready to do it. I think before, I just didn’t really care about playing shows. The only time I would play was when someone would invite me to open for them. But for this one, I put a good amount of work into it. I also delegated a lot of it to my management and my friends. My friend Ethan and his production team Salt and Pepper Productions helped put it together. And then the experience of playing the show was great. I knew that I had a fanbase—even though it’s small, I knew it was strong —but so many of them came to that show. And they were talking to each other, and they were talking to me, and it was so special. And I mean, I love DTLA. I know a lot of different kinds of people in DTLA, and since my church community is there, it’s just very near and dear to me.
DTW: Who are some of your musical influences?
I love Camila Cabello, specifically the new album. Honestly, I really resonated with the whole concept of that album. She’s a local girl; she’s out at night, I love Lexa Gates, the rapper, and I also right now love Cece Natalie. I just saw her open for Isabella Love Story at Echoplex, and it was crazy. Also Miley Cyrus and her Dead Pets.
DTW: What’s your process when making songs from a production standpoint?
For me the most important thing is the chord progression, I usually try to write it myself, sometimes I find a random loop on Splice that I cut up. Nothing can really happen until theres a chord progression. I try to fill up a lot of space with vocals.
DTW: When did you start producing your own beats?
Photo Credits: Lena Hindes
I started with Garage Band in high school which I didn’t consider production at the time but it definitely is. I started with Logic in college.
DTW: What made you start making your own beats, not all singers do?
No one understands what I mean when I ask for it.
DTW: What musical plane does Sellers Remorse rest on?
Pretty much every song I write starts with a breakbeat—whether it stays in the song is the question. I just like to write in that space, I guess. And then I also have a whiteboard, and when I was making the album and keeping track of what was done, I just wrote, “Remember Lana, remember Peep.” Those were kind of my duality of references.
Rex Laurent is pop and contemplation. She is contradiction. She is the doll observing its player, and it’s exactly why Sellers Remorse stands as such a strong album. Complicated, human, and raw, Rex fills a space the market keeps insisting it wants—and even if it doesn’t, she shows no signs of stopping. As of writing this article, Rex has already released two new singles Ferryland and Nobody (gets it like you), songs which seem to be an updated take on Sellers Remorse, already cutting-edge pop experimentation. In this way, the message is clear: Rex is not going anywhere, and if you haven’t heard of her yet, you will soon.
