If your TikTok algorithm is working properly, you’ve already heard of Eli. Posting under the username @journalofadoll, the rising artist’s new EP Girl of Your Dreams has quietly exploded online, especially in LA.
The title track, an early 2000s-style earworm about brushing off a boy you once had a crush on, was enough to make Camila Cabello slide into her DMs. “Fortunately 4 U,” about doing nothing with someone you love, prompted Madison Beer to approach her in a bagel shop. Addison Rae and Troye Sivan are also fans—and followers
She’s been hustling for a while. Eli spent a few years as a Vine kid, and dropped early tracks released under a different name (she signed to Zelig Records, home of King Princess, in 2023). At 24, she’s finally having her moment, even if some influences she’s pulling from were barely on her radar growing up. Like the aesthetics of Stacie Orrico (she doesn’t know who she is), or the sounds of Imogen Heap’s 2005 record Speak For Yourself. What is real, though, are her lyrics: inspired by her life in America’s coastal cities, run-ins with nepo babies who brag about screwing The Dare, embracing a DIY attitude, and a series of dumb men she’s since left behind.
Eli writes and produces almost everything herself—albeit guided by the musical friends she lives with in East LA. She describes herself as “a Victorian woman trapped in 2013.” We called her up to talk about persona, pop girls, and why all of a sudden the world is ready for her sound.
Douglas Greenwood: The last couple of weeks must’ve been wild. It feels like something’s shifted.
Eli: Obviously, my room is still a fucking mess—so that’s still the same. But things are happening on social media. Yesterday, I talked to Camila Cabello on Instagram. Every pop girl I love—not every, we still have Katy Perry, Ariana Grande, and Rihanna—has said something about Girl of Your Dreams. The child in me just wants to bawl my eyes out.
Tell me this lore. You’re from Massachusetts right?
Yep, I grew up Catholic in suburbia. Now it’s Trumpville. I was itching to escape. I went to a scary public school and didn’t have friends. Singing online was my escape. That’s where it started—making music alone in my bedroom. Then I moved to New York for school for a bit.
What did you study?
A BFA in music. But it was during COVID. Then there was an abroad semester that I took. I went to Berlin for just five months. It was also still COVID, so not the rawest Berlin club experience. So I was like, “Okay, I’m out of New York now. I have a moment to evaluate who Eli is out of Massachusetts and New York. What am I trying to do?” Where do people go? Los Angeles.
When did you make the move?
2023. I was in love with a girl, so I impulsively moved back to New York for a year. That’s what “Marianne” is about. It was the craziest decision I’ve ever made. I could see myself staying here for five years, then I’m going to Italy.
What’s LA done for your songwriting?
It’s been instrumental. It’s helped me understand the entertainment world. I’ve gone to the clurbs, I’ve gone to Tenants of the Trees, and left uncomfortable or pissed off enough to write a song about it. Everybody has their own journey, but there’s a lot of people who are kicking their feet up, yet they’re killing it. That’s [what inspired] “God Bless the BFA.”
I wanted to talk about the mood and the aesthetics of the music. Where did that come from?
I’ve heard the Disney Channel storyline of “Be yourself.” I’ve had therapists tell me to be myself. I have a lovely “Live, Laugh, Love” mom who has “Be Yourself” hung up all over the house. But I did not fully grasp what that meant until this past year. I realized how much I was running from as a queer person. After moving here and being around people that I love, for the first time I had the space to figure myself out. Now, everything has hit me artistically in all the right places.
I wasn’t even consciously trying to make something really joyous. I was long inspired by pop girls. All of the artwork [for the EP] I made on my phone. I’ve been that girl in her bedroom, not going to class, just sleeping all day then waking up at 3 a.m. to go on YouTube to watch Ariana Grande. I was Stan Twitter adjacent.
“I fucking love fedoras. I think they’re coming back.”
eli
All your current songs are from an upcoming album called Stage Girl, right? What’s the vision?
I believe that singing is my calling—God put me here to sing. That’s what my mom told me growing up and it stuck. Not saying that I’m here to bring back singing…
You’re bringing back singing!
That’s the crux of this project. It’s about being able to go on a singing competition, stand up on a stage, and take my one shot. I’m from Massachusetts. I need this. I’m gonna give it my all, and I’m gonna stand under the spotlight and they’re gonna put me in a gown.
Addison Rae follows you. Tell me everything.
I’m basically blackmailing her online to let me open for her. I have this vision: me sitting on her stage with a loop pedal and doing a 30-minute number, probably in a little cute mini skirt and a flowy bow top. I feel like we might be sisters. Maybe that’s crazy and parasocial, but I feel like there might be some kind of collective consciousness there. I’m blowing up her DMs. She’s probably scared of me!
Pop personas are often performative. But with you, it feels different. The cover of your EP might seem like a bit, but you’re fully in it.
I fucking love fedoras. I think they’re coming back. I’ll die on that hill. I’m writing from a perspective of that little Massachusetts kid herbedroom. I put on that target Fedora, sing Mariah Carey, and be a pop star. That’s real. That’s me. And I think a lot of kids who grew up on Hannah Montana and Victorious will get it. This isn’t a character. It’s me—with a million E’s.