In Slow Motion: A Conversation with Evie Valentine
Colorado Springs pop artist Evie Valentine on songwriting, stage persona, and finding her people in the Springs — for Next Wave Magazine
Evie Valentine has been building her name in the Colorado Springs music scene one show at a time — from winning Icons Idol to opening for Ella Red in front of a sold-out room at Black Sheep, where the crowd sang her lyrics back to her before she’d even finished teaching them the words. Off stage, the pop artist who calls herself a “diva” in front of a mic describes herself as reserved, a little goofy, and still very much figuring things out in real time. Her songs — whimsical, deeply personal, and unafraid of vulnerability — draw from everything between Jane Austen novels and late-night anxiety spirals, with influences ranging from Sara Bareilles to Chappell Roan. We sat down with Evie to talk about where her songs come from, how she knows when one is finally done, and what she hopes listeners take away from her music.
You write all your own songs. Where do they usually start — a lyric, a melody, a feeling?
Some of my more popular songs — “Slow Motion,” “I Can’t Sleep” — actually started from the title. I was experimenting with collaborators in Nashville, and they had me write a list of titles for us to look through and figure out what to write together. “Slow Motion” was one my dad came up with. It ended up being this magical moment of collaboration, and it really spoke to my identity as an artist — not a breakup song, but something core to me, like living in the moment. My lyrics tend to stem from lived experience. All my emotions are heavily impactful to my writing.
Is there a song of yours that came out completely different from what you intended when you started writing it?
Probably my song “This Is,” which hasn’t come out yet — it’s one I’m looking to promote and record next month. It started as this idea about someone being overwhelming, at first in a relationship, and then it spiraled out of control. It got angrier. Production-wise it’s going to be one of my biggest — it starts really calm and cute and then just hits you in the face. It started out as this cutesy, kind of “Ivy” song, and now it has something to say.
Do you prefer writing angrier songs, or softer ones?
I have a love for both. You really get to play with those intense emotions, and I love how it feels on stage when people can scream something back at you and really connect with you that way. But I also love the flip side — how soft or beautiful something can be. I feel like every song of mine has that moment of peace, that really vulnerable, floaty thing. That came through especially in “Amber,” which I released in June — probably the most vulnerable I’ve gotten in songwriting so far. I appreciate both the vulnerable side and the aggressive side. I think they both have a solid place in my foundation as an artist.
How do you know when a song is finished versus when you’re just tired of working on it?
It’s pretty unique, my process. Sometimes it’ll hit me in the face — “Amber” was written in about two days, words and chords, and it’s basically stayed the same since. Other songs, like “I Can’t Sleep” or another one I have coming called “Blue,” took time and a lot of revisiting. They get to a place where I feel confident enough to perform them live — not at an open mic, but at an actual show. If I feel ready, that’s usually where it ends up: on a set list, and I’ll see how it goes.
I actually run a writer’s round at COATI — every month, one of the open mics is just for original work in progress. It’s challenging to put something unfinished in front of people, but it’s worth it. It gives you perspective on what needs work, or how people are reacting to it. When something feels done, done, that’s when I start performing it for gigs I’m writing toward releasing eventually.
Has there been a song you performed live and then realized needed to change?
Definitely “Blue.” I wrote it during my senior year, and it was the first song I wrote completely by myself, no collaborators — which made me nervous, because no one else had seen it yet. I played it for a while and felt good about it, then I lost love for it. It felt stagnant, the notes stayed the same throughout — which is a pop structure, and pop can stay in that lane and still have emotion and tell a story, but something was missing. I went back, edited the bridge, added some bigger vocal moments, and I think it really helped display the emotion I wanted. I’m happy I waited instead of rushing to release it, which I have done before. That song has gotten better the more I’ve performed it over the last year.
What’s a non-musical thing — a show, a book, a place — that sneaks into your songwriting when you’re not expecting it?
I wrote a song with collaborators from a title I hadn’t planned on — “Oh, Emma.” It’s about Jane Austen’s Emma. I wanted the wordplay, wanted to reference the book in the verses, and it turned into this feminine hype song — like, why can’t you see how awesome you are? Stuff like that, when it inspires me, makes me really happy. Sometimes movies do it too, but mostly it’s books, or classic things that have been done a hundred times, where I think — how can I take this and make a new idea out of it?
What’s one lyric of yours you’re most proud of?
That’s hard — they’re all my babies. In “Slow Motion,” the bridge always hits me on stage: the best things always take their time. I think about how much time I’ve put into my career, into bettering myself and my music, and every time I sing that line it reminds me that when I give myself space, things go better. On stage, that’s my moment to breathe, and I get to experience that with everyone around me.
In “Amber,” I love the whole song, but the line the shade of home in the chorus really grounds it for me — that feeling of knowing someone and them making you feel safe. That’s the shade of home I look for in people, in my life.
You recently opened for Ella Red at Black Sheep — one of your biggest shows yet. What was that like?
It was so magical. I was downstairs getting ready and so nervous I almost cried. I went upstairs, saw how many people were there, and had to go back down. Ella Red was so sweet — she told me her fans found her through the artists who she opened for, and that they’d love me. I didn’t quite believe her, but going up to perform, I’d never experienced that level of connection — around 230 people, front of the room to the back, all singing the callback on my song “Ocean.” I could hear it reverberating everywhere.
I was teaching them the song and didn’t even need to — they instinctively picked it up. I’d never had that happen with that many people before. Coming back to the merch table afterward and seeing how happy everyone was — I sold more merch that night than I ever have. It felt like a glimpse of what touring could actually be like. That’s a real goal for next year, once I have more music out: finding someone to tour and travel with.
What do you think people misjudge about you the first time they meet you or see you perform?
The Evie Valentine stage persona is a diva — a queen, honestly. And she is me, that confidence is a real part of me. But in everyday life, I’m pretty reserved. I’m an extrovert, but more of a goofy, awkward person — if something technical goes wrong on stage I’ll be like, “oh, uh-oh.” People see that level of confidence when I’m performing somewhere like Icons downtown and assume I’ve got it all figured out. Really, I’m experiencing a lot of this for the first time. I have performance experience and a degree in it, but I’m still just starting out.
It’s rough finding the right audience as a pop artist in Colorado Springs. But I’ve found so much of my audience here, especially through Icons — that’s where I got my start, where I won their Icons Idol competition, and that led to me playing Pikes Peak Pride, and things started rolling from there. I think starting in that community was the best thing I could’ve done.
If your discography had to be described by your friends instead of you, what would they say?
I think they’d say there’s a level of whimsy to it. A lot of people who don’t necessarily love pop music tell me they like mine. I think they’d describe it as wholesome, true to me as a person, really authentic — like an open book. It’s whimsical and authentic pop, but with a deeper layer underneath. I’m about to release some breakup songs, the works, but I’m proud that I started without leaning on that trope of “the best music comes from heartbreak.” I don’t think it does. I think all music comes from deep emotion.
Who are your biggest inspirations in music right now?
Ryan Tedder, lead singer of OneRepublic — one of the most talented songwriters in the world. Learning what he’s written for other artists, hit after hit, blew my mind. I’ve also been compared to Chappell Roan and Olivia Rodrigo — I love Chappell, she’s a huge inspiration, especially in my community; it’s so cool to see her succeed, and her style really inspires me. And on a totally different note, Sara Bareilles — a huge inspiration behind my songwriting, especially since it’s always started with me and a piano, or me and a guitar, before I get into production. I love exploring those acoustic vibes first.
Is there a song by any of them you wish you’d written?
Chappell’s “Subway” — my cover of it went a little mini-viral, and it was so cool to see the community respond to that video. I’m actually singing “Subway” at Pueblo Pride. The first time she performed it live, I remember thinking, I could have written this. And Sara Bareilles’ “Gravity” was huge for me growing up — I sang the crap out of that song every chance I got.
What do you hope people take away from your music?
A sense of wholeness, happiness, of self. I hope people hear themselves in my lyrics and feel heard — especially with “I Can’t Sleep,” which is grounded in my own experience with anxiety and mental health. I want people to know they’re not alone, that it’ll be okay, that they’re not the only one going through something like that. I love the connectivity of music, and I try to promote that as much as I can. That’s really the reason I started writing in the first place — I had an emotion so deep I needed to sing it, needed to feel it more than just writing it down or saying it out loud. I hope people take away that connection, and a little bit of heartbreak sometimes — but mostly love, and fun.
Talking with Evie, it’s clear the confidence on stage and the self-described awkwardness off it aren’t in conflict — they’re two halves of the same artist still figuring herself out in public, one song at a time. That willingness to stay unfinished, to keep revisiting a bridge or waiting a year before recording a song, is exactly what’s made her music feel so lived-in. With new tracks like “This Is” and “Blue” on the way, and bigger rooms starting to take notice, Evie Valentine’s slow-motion rise looks like it’s about to pick up speed.
