KiKi Holli & The Remedy (Photo credit: Daniel Reichert)
KiKi Holli has always worked at the intersection of music and theatre, two worlds that reward the ability to make an audience feel something real. Now recording as KiKi Holli & The Remedy alongside two-time Grammy-nominated producer Ethan Allen, she returns with “Running Out of Time,” an indie-pop song that pulls in dream pop, synths and orchestration building beneath her voice. Jason Barnard caught up with her ahead of the release.
What was the emotional starting point for “Running Out of Time”?
“Running Out of Time” grew out of the idea of urgency. In Ethan Allen’s studio there’s a vintage hourglass, and sometimes we flip it at the start of a session as a reminder to stay focused and capture the moment. That image sparked the song, the awareness that time moves quickly and that the present moment is really the only thing we truly have. We are very conscious of how we use our time creatively in the studio, and that sense of urgency became the emotional center of the track.
You’ve described this single as a sonic experience meant to be felt as much as heard. What does that mean in practice when you’re writing and recording?
Ethan and I approach recording in a very cinematic way. We build everything from the ground up in the studio, layering vocal harmonies, synths, guitars, keys, and percussion so the listener feels surrounded by the sound. Ethan brings an incredible depth of experience to the studio. Earlier in his career he worked as a lead engineer and producer at Daniel Lanois’ Kingsway Studio in New Orleans, and he also spent time learning from Brian Eno. That level of craftsmanship and attention to sonic detail influences how we shape every track. The goal is always to create something immersive, something that feels as much like stepping into a scene as it does listening to a song.
Your background is rooted in theatre. How does that theatrical instinct show up in “Running Out of Time”?
My training in music and theatre definitely shapes how I write. I tend to think of songs as emotional arcs, almost like scenes. With “Running Out of Time,” the structure builds gradually from the verses into the chorus so the listener feels the tension and urgency rise. It mirrors the moment when someone realizes that time is finite and that the present moment really matters.
Your catalogue moves between genres quite freely. Is that intentional?
I usually follow where the song wants to go rather than forcing it into a particular genre. Each song has its own emotional language. Sometimes that leads somewhere intimate and minimal, and other times it grows into something bigger and more cinematic. As Ethan and I have continued writing together, our sound has naturally evolved into something that blends both of our strengths.
“Wish” landed on Atwood Magazine’s Songs of the Year list. Does recognition like that create pressure?
It meant a great deal to have “Wish” recognized by Atwood Magazine’s Songs of the Year. When you spend so much time crafting something, it’s incredibly encouraging when it connects with listeners. Ultimately the focus is just continuing to grow creatively and making music that feels honest.
You grew up in Pittsburgh and trained formally in voice and theatre before landing in Los Angeles. How much of that journey still lives in your music?
Quite a lot. Pittsburgh has an incredibly rich cultural history and produced some remarkable artists — Gene Kelly, Jeff Goldblum, Andy Warhol, Michael Keaton, Billy Porter, Christina Aguilera, Wiz Khalifa, and Gertrude Stein, along with jazz legends like George Benson and Billy Strayhorn. Trent Reznor is also from the area. Growing up there instilled a deep appreciation for music and storytelling, and that influence is still very present in my work.
You started your career co-writing and starring in a musical about Dusty Springfield. How did that experience influence your own music?
Creating and performing Forever Dusty had a huge impact on me as an artist. My birth name is Kirsten Holly Smith, and that chapter really became the bridge between my early work and the music I make now as KiKi Holli + The Remedy.
Studying Dusty Springfield meant immersing myself in the history of great songwriting and performing from the Brill Building to Philadelphia soul, and artists like Curtis Mayfield, Carole King, Martha Reeves, Stevie Wonder, and The Temptations. It deepened my understanding of phrasing, storytelling, and emotional connection in music.
What does “& The Remedy” represent in your artist name?
“The Remedy” was always meant to capture the spirit of a band around the music. I’ve always been drawn to artists with strong band identities—Prince and The Revolution, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Florence + The Machine—where the project feels bigger than one person. I also loved the subtle nod to The Cure, whose music has always meant a lot to me.
In the studio, Ethan Allen has been an incredible collaborator, producing the records and playing across the recordings, so he’s very much the “Remedy” in this chapter. But the idea also extends to the stage. I’ve already had the chance to perform with a live band of master musicians and it was incredible. My hope is to continue building that live incarnation of KiKi Holli + The Remedy as we start touring the album in cities around the world.
What does your forthcoming album represent that the singles can’t fully capture?
The album represents the full artistic journey. Singles capture moments, but an album lets listeners experience the emotional arc of the music. When you sit and listen to the songs one after another, you start to hear the thread running through them — urgency, transformation, resilience. In other words, The Remedy.
Just look at how vinyl has taken off again. People want to slow down, escape for a while, and immerse themselves in a body of work instead of just another track in a playlist. There’s something powerful about the tactile experience — putting a record on, holding the sleeve, engaging with the music from beginning to end. It’s a reminder that art and music still matter, no matter how much the tech world tries to reduce everything to content and algorithms. Real music — something intentional and human — still matters.
