James the Seventh is embracing the cringe and getting vulnerable in her music
The 24-year-old ballet dancer-turned singer-songwriter on how an injury led her to music, building a body of work, and more
James the Seventh's latest EP dropped in June.
Photo illustration by Ryan Quan
Words by Andy Crump
Bethany Latham started attending Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre in 2020; she stopped shortly thereafter, owing to an ACL tear sustained in class. Coming back to ballet from a traumatic injury isn’t easy. Luckily, Latham, 24, had a fallback in music. During post-surgery recovery, her dad bought her a guitar, and with that, everything changed: her focus, her passion, even her name.
Listeners today know Latham as James the Seventh, whose sound comprises a range of styles starting with alt-pop and ending with pop-punk—her sound sometimes changes within a single track. Nonetheless, Trauma Olympics, her fourth EP, released in April (her fifth EP, Crumble, dropped in June, after this interview), cuts a cohesive profile of her as a singer-songwriter with attitude, a tongue-in-cheek sense of humor, and a sobering, unvarnished openness widely lacking in modern music.
James recently got candid with me in a discussion about the balletic parts of her music, the sources she turns to for inspiration, and making a body of work for herself now as she defines herself as a performing artist.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Andy Crump: You’ve talked (in the past) about how music became your passion after your ACL tear. Do you have a new perspective on what that accident represents to you now? Do you think of it as a mixed blessing because of what you're doing?
James the Seventh: I actually do. I'm glad that it happened when it did, because I don't think I would've stopped dancing and gotten into music when I did. Since I was very on and off with my recovery, it caused me to stop and think, “I have nothing else to do, but do music.” I found this new thing that I like to do. Getting myself to sit down and try something new is a blessing. At the time I thought, “This sucks. I just want to dance and do whatever I want!” But now I'm happy that it happened.
AC: Do you feel like a different person in that regard, or just a person with a different focus and passion?
J: I still feel like ballet is a part of me. It’ll always be the first thing I really loved to do. But I do feel completely different. When you’re doing ballet, you're told you have to do this technique, this choreography. I went from that to asking myself, “How do I want to make music?” and shifting from perfectionism. It feels very daunting to have that creative freedom. But I think that fundamentally changed me as a person.
AC: Your music is pretty rock ‘n roll, but there's grace to it. Even the way that you say “mind your f*ckin’ business” is almost polite, in a way that reminds me of ballet’s aesthetics. I wonder if you notice that bleed into your music?
J: Definitely. When I'm making music, I tend to gravitate towards stuff that makes me want to move; it just feels good. I think my earlier music sounded prettier. I wasn’t experimenting with my voice as much. Then I started to get comfortable with doing less perfect things. I still tend to say, “What's the right way to do this?” But sometimes the best things happen by accident.
AC: You’re crafting your voice and persona. Where do you see that going?
J: I just finished making a bunch of songs because I'm starting a body of work. But it's definitely different and feels more extravagant. I feel like I've been getting more comfortable sounding “bad” in the booth, because I'm in there making noises and seeing what sounds cool. It’s fun to do that, and I feel comfortable with my producers now, because we've been working together for three years or so. But I feel like I have more fun now because I'm more comfortable making music.
AC: When I listen to Trauma Olympics, I think about what the lyrics mean in terms of your experience. It feels like you're saying, “I don't want people to feel sorry for me.” Is that fair?
J: Actually? Yeah. I don't even deliberately say that in that song, but I do think so. What happened (when I wrote that song) was, I overheard someone else’s conversation. They were drunk, so no judgment. They were saying, “Let's compare our drama, see whose is the worst.” And I thought, “Wow, I really don't want to do that.” But then I started this thought monologue, saying to myself, “What if that did happen? I really don't care about that.” That’s how that song came about; I just thought it was hilarious.
AC: When you talk about building a body of work, is that what the body is built on–you, simply absorbing life and putting it into music?
J: I feel like this EP is a lot about my internal dialogue in college, because I graduated last year, and that was when I started writing these songs. I had a lot going on in my head. I just thought that they were all funny. I told myself, “I can't just not write about these things because they're so funny.” But I had to figure out how to do it in a way that eventually would make sense.
AC: If that’s how you make art, you’ll never be short of material. At the same time, is there such a thing for you as information overload, where you are not sure what it is that you're going to write about?
J: Usually, something will make me think of a title for a song, and then I'll rabbithole down there. I have a tendency to write about things that are not really super relevant to me, and my producer will tell me, “You don't want to write about that.” And I’ll realize they’re right. I don’t want to write about that. It’s about finding what I’m too scared to say: what makes me think, “Oh god, I could never put this out in case that one person in my life hears it.” That's where I try to go. It takes a bit of fiddling with the song. They change so much throughout the process.
AC: Is there a track in particular you would point to as a good example of that?
J: Probably “Awkward.” In “Awkward,” I didn't want to seem like I was just saying, “I’m awkward. See me? I’m awkward!” I didn’t want it to be like that. [Laughs.] But I was talking with Oren (Yoel, producer), and he told me, “No, you're trying to say that. You can say that! It’s okay.” Sometimes he’ll just let down that ego, of saying, “I can’t say that, it’s so cringey.”
AC: Today, it’s seen as “cringey” to be vulnerable. Is that a real obstacle in this industry?
J: Definitely. I think if any of my songs on the EP—except for “Awkward,” that one's a little slower—were slow, I would feel uncomfortable promoting them. I think they would have a completely different vibe. That's how I feel like it would be for me, but it's also sometimes about asking, “How much can I say in a song for it to still sound like a song?”
There's a weird thought pattern that every independent artist goes through on social media, where they think, “Should I be more raw or be more mysterious?” I eventually figured out that that's completely irrelevant. I can put out whatever I want that aligns with my music, and how I want people to experience it.
The things I write about are pretty vulnerable, but I don't want people to listen to them and feel vulnerable. I want people to listen to them and think, “Oh, this is fun.” So that's my approach to handling that.
AC: That's a hard balance to strike, but it’s something pop does very well. Who do you turn to as your influences for figuring that out?
J: Fiona (Apple) is definitely one of them. Her music is so angsty and cathartic, but I also listen to it and it feels fun somehow. I love Kate Bush; she’s a big one. I love Steely Dan, the way that they make their songs feel so nasty, but groovy; I love Wolf Alice as well, and The Doors.
AC: You’re the sum total of your influence, but it’s hard to separate from one’s influences. How do you bring those back to just being James?
J: I don't think about my influences at all when I'm making music. I zone out for a few hours and then whatever happens, happens. That's the way I go about it. When I'm listening to music later, I’ll think, “Oh, I love that. What do they play? They're playing an organ? I want to put one of those in one of my songs at some point,” or I'll hear someone screaming in a song and think, “I should try that too.”
Published on September 2, 2025
Words by Andy Crump
Bostonian culture journalist Andy Crump covers movies, beer, music, fatherhood, and way too many other subjects for way too many outlets, perhaps even yours: Paste Magazine, Inverse, The New York Times, Hop Culture, Polygon, and Men's Health, plus more. You can follow him on Bluesky and find his collected work at his personal blog. He’s composed of roughly 65 percent craft beer.
Art by Ryan Quan
Ryan Quan is JoySauce's social media manager, associate editor, and all-around visual eye. This queer, half-Chinese, half-Filipino writer and graphic designer loves everything related to music, creative nonfiction, and art. Based in Brooklyn, he spends most of his time dancing to hyperpop and accidentally falling asleep on the subway. Follow him on Instagram at @ryanquans, and check out his work on his website.