WORDS Rachelle Cox
PHOTOGRAPHY Peyman Azhari & Cobrasnake
Our relationship with social media has all the makings of a situationship. An electronic consciousness of dopamine highs, depressive lows, and an ambiguity where you don’t quite know where you stand. A highly addictive digital temptress we know can be bad for us, but we just can’t let go. It’s a right tease. But just like any relationship, boundaries and clear intentions are key for a healthy, fulfilling experience.
Inside most Gen Zs are two wolves: a highly curated online persona, and a vulnerable inner reality. We are constantly encouraged and validated to present a fantasy of who we want to be online. Social media is changing the way we see ourselves by turning our identity into a performance driven by algorithms, comparison, and self-optimisation.
The virtual world can distract us so much from our real lives that we create a false sense of reality. Separating our genuine interests and opinions from the bombardment of influence and conflicting perspectives is no easy feat. What is the gap between who we are and what we post or consume? How can young women and queer people construct an identity on their own terms when we’re constantly being watched, judged and influenced by other people’s expectations?
Rhian Teasdale, the enchanting frontwoman of the Grammy Award-winning indie-rock band Wet Leg, knows all too well how to tune out the constant stream of opinions and stay on her own frequency. Encouraging us to step out of the passenger princess seat and take ourselves for a ride of self-determination, Teasdale is the face of Deutsche Telekom’s Not A Passenger campaign, inspiring Gen Z to reclaim their agency and identity in an age of constant content overwhelm and expectation. In collaboration with Telekom Electronic Beats, the campaign aims to empower the chronically online with a sense of autonomy in how they navigate the digital landscape, and ultimately their lives, by tuning out the external noise and tuning into themselves, their desires and their intuition.
With an exclusive live performance in the counterculture capital of Berlin, Wet Leg headlined an abandoned car factory with immersive art installations throughout, serving as a physical space for connection, self-expression and getting off your phone and into your body. I spoke to Rhian about reclaiming agency through play, the body as a site of empowerment, and finding love and freedom in a highly scrutinised digital world.
RC: We’re currently in Berlin for the unveiling of the campaign’s Hero film, featuring your cover of the 90s indie-rock banger ‘My Favourite Game’ by The Cardigans. How do you approach creating covers of songs? What’s your process?
RT: The whole band will get into the studio and start jamming things out. Normally, with a cover, we’ll try to add a lil extra summin’summin’, or come at it from a different angle and that, but with this one we were pretty straight up about it. It’s like giving two painters the same palette of colours; they’ll paint slightly different pictures, because they’ve got different hands, but they’re still working with the same colours. Our musical palette already felt so similar to the original that we didn’t feel the need to force it somewhere completely different.
RC: What’s your favourite live music performance of another artist, dead or alive?
RT: I got to see Rosalía’s Lux show when she came to London this year. She was incredible. She confided in the audience that she’d been feeling poorly that night and was worried about how it’d go, so I can’t even imagine what it’s like seeing her on a day where she’s on top form. She was phenomenal, superhuman and yet also very human… and for a big arena show like that, it was the perfect amount of production. Really cool, really tasteful. It was the perfect show. Also Ninajirachi! She has an amazing stage presence, and that energy is matched by her fans.
RC: Your latest album Moisturizer explores the infatuation nature of love. You’ve previously stated that you were reluctant to fall in love out of fear of losing a part of yourself, but you’ve recently overcome this. How do you navigate surrendering to love while nurturing yourself?
RT: I think it’s important in a relationship that you both keep up with friends, and both people have their own commitments and their own careers while simultaneously merging into oblivion. I think if you already have a full life before you fall in love, then falling in love is like the cherry on top. That’s probably how you keep it sweet.
RC: Your personal style has chopped and changed over the past few years. Has your journey with queerness transformed your relationship with how you feel in yourself and what you wear?
RT: Yes, once I stopped dressing for the male gaze, it freed me up to have a lot more fun with how I dress.
RC: What’s your process when getting dressed – do you focus on trying to embody a feeling, aesthetic, or character? Do you prefer dressing for fantasy or reality?
RT: When I’m getting dressed to go on stage, I actually take into account very normal things, like how hot is it going to be? That’s often my main concern. It gets very warm onstage, so it’s been quite utilitarian incorporating hot pants and little vests into my main rotation.
The stage is the one place I feel completely safe dressing exactly how I want, and I think it’s actually quite sad that it has to be that way.
But unfortunately, I guess I am dressing for fantasy. On stage feels like a safe space. I’d love to be able to wear hot pants and a little vest out and about in everyday life, but men are disgusting, and I just can’t be arsed with the advances. Which fucking sucks, because I hate that I let that kind of misogyny affect how I dress in my offstage life. But yeah, the stage is probably the one place I feel completely safe dressing exactly how I want, and I think it’s actually quite sad that it has to be that way.
RC: Being a kooky quirky girl in a digital world opens the doors for many eyes and opinions. Women in the media, especially confident women, are subjected to an obscene amount of misogyny and personal scrutiny. Do you have any advice for young women who are trying to find and create themselves in this digital landscape?
RT: Social media is a great resource for connecting with other creative people you wouldn’t otherwise meet, and a fun way to express yourself and share your art, music, personality, etc. But it doesn’t replace real-world connections and experiences. It’s important to have some distance between yourself and the online world so you can stay grounded in what is real.
Body hair makes you powerful. Men are scared of that power! A lot of men are balding, and they get jealous when they see our beautiful hairy pits.
RC: There are a lot of people out there who have some pretty strong emotional reactions to seeing women embrace armpit hair and muscles. Why do you think it’s such a radical sight for some?
RT: Body hair makes you powerful. Men are scared of that power! A lot of men are balding, and they get jealous when they see our beautiful hairy pits.
Making music with your friends is never that deep, so it’s important to have fun.
RC: From recording songs that make up your first album as a joke to concepting your latest album cover on a residential holiday, it’s obvious play is a huge part of your creative process. How important is play in your everyday life?
RT: Making music with your friends is never that deep, so it’s important to have fun.
RC: There’s lots of fun elements to the launch of this Not A Passenger campaign: performances, vintage arcades, car installations, and there’s even a treasure hunt. If you were to plan the most dopamine-fuelled, stomach-pain-from-laughing-infused day, what would it entail?
RT: Medieval footwear and drinking water.
Enjoyed this story? Help keep independent queer-led publishing alive and unlock the BRICKS Learner Platform, our alternative education platform for emerging and aspiring creatives, hosted via Substack.