Troye Sivan Craves More Than the Dance Floor

You’re only 31 years old, but you’ve already had such a varied music career, from singing in telethons as a kid in Australia to releasing your debut album, Blue Neighbourhood, at 20 to embarking on the Sweat tour with Charli xcx. On October 9, you put out your fourth record, She’s the Best. Were you surprised by people’s responses to the title track?

Honestly, I was surprised. It’s a meaningful song to me, and the goals of it are different from how people think about releases. Usually, it’s: Okay, first single, we should come out of the gate swinging with a pop song the whole world is going to understand. The second we wrote “She’s the Best,” I knew the song was interesting. It’s not “Rush.” I’m very aware of that.

How did putting out the single feel?

Releasing music can be a weird experience. This thing that is so unbelievably precious to me, which I’ve put my blood and guts into, all of a sudden it’s up on Spotify. Sometimes it can be deflating. And honestly, no matter how it goes, there’s a weird sadness that comes with it. But the nice thing about being in New York when you release music is that, without playing a show—because that’s usually when you feel the tangible reward of releasing music—you have a lot of nice interactions with people. I went for a walk to get a coffee the morning after the song came out, and someone stopped me on the street and showed me their phone; they were listening to it. That would not happen in L.A., where I barely leave my house.

You wrote the song with George Daniel, Jack Antonoff, Styalz Fuego, and Leland. What was that process like?

Styalz and Leland, I’ve worked with them for a long time now. We had never worked with George, but I know him, obviously [through Charli xcx, George’s wife]. We were tight friends, but we had never written together. George, to me, is one of the coolest people in the world. Initially, when he came in, I was already thinking really freely. I was like, “I want to impress George.” I have texts from the day that we finished the song, and it’s George and me being like, “What a weird song. But this is my favorite thing in the world.”

In the music video for “She’s the Best,” you slow dance with Nicole Kidman. What was it like working with her?

I was completely dazzled by her. She does everything in her power to make you forget that she’s Nicole Kidman, because she’s trying to disarm you, which I appreciate. I imagine people are completely weird around her all the time. We were texting weeks before about glam and understanding her character in the video. She was fully in, so by the time we were doing the slow dance, I felt so comfortable around her.

In the video, you play a performer at a burlesque nightclub. What was the inspiration behind that?

Nicole is the owner of a bar—maybe she’s an ex-showgirl herself, and now she runs the place. When she walks in, it’s like, Oh, shit, the boss is here. She’s come to check on the new entertainment, and it’s my first time performing at the bar [with all the queens]. She trains me up and sees something in me that I don’t see in myself yet. She puts me in drag for the first time, and the self-expression is being fostered and encouraged by her, resulting in this ultimate freedom by the end of the video. She has an exterior that maybe people are afraid of at first, but underneath is this deep love for her girls.

You’ve said the album is about the divine feminine, an ode to the glamorous and fabulous women who have been a constant in your life.

I would never want to take on the impossible challenge of summating womanhood or girlhood. So I zoomed in and brought it home. I drew inspiration from this girl I know who DJs, and this girl with a beautiful smile. I’d sit in a café and see a woman walking down the street smoking a little thin cigarette. Sometimes the lyrics are about me.

You’ve referred to the past few years as “high-octane.” What made them so intense?

It started with Covid. The lockdowns in Australia were so intense. I was in Melbourne. We were trying to do Covid-zero, so the lockdown would lift, and then that sneaky little fucker would always come back. But during those weekends when the city would open up, it was like everyone collectively, simultaneously dropped Molly. At that moment, I had this appreciation for dance music and connection with other people, and for sex and dating and friendship. I channeled that joy into my last album, which continued into touring with Charli. The Sweat tour was some of the best weeks of my entire life.

But over time, an isolation started to happen. Maybe it was a response to what was happening externally—I was really busy, and I felt very exposed in a way that I hadn’t before. I was telling my friend, “Damn, my dating and sex life is completely dry at the moment.” And I could see he was so confused. He was like, “But Troye, what about ‘Rush’?” It made me realize I wasn’t telling the whole story anymore.

Is there a message you want listeners to take away from the album?

Because the album is such a journey, I think it’s best understood when it’s listened to in its entirety, over a long period of time. I was listening to it today—which, I know it’s weird to listen to your own music, but I do listen to my own music a lot, especially before it’s out. Once it’s out, I kind of stop listening. I’m excited to feel understood.

Hair by Charlie le Mindu; Makeup by Rommy Najor for Rabanne at Forward Artists; Photo assistant: Adam Inglis; Fashion Assistant: Celeste Roh; Production Assistant: Kenneth La Rosa; Hair assistant: Lilly Barros; Tailor: Lindsay Wright. Special thanks to Zaidi’s NYC.