2hollis on Bringing Back True Love, Burning Bright, and Bottling Time
2hollis has had the kind of year that feels like a dream—and burns like one too. In just a few months, he’s released a full-length album, Star, toured across continents, played a whirlwind string of shows, and danced away with footwork that’s become a signature on and off stage. He even performed at Coachella—something that, for him, carries an almost mythic resonance. “I was actually conceived at Coachella,” he told me, laughing mid-interview. “My dad played there in 2003, back when it was all indie bands and nothing like the monster it is now.”
That cosmic full-circle moment—playing the very festival where his life began—only adds to the surreal intensity of a year that Hollis describes as “the time of my life.” But behind the motion, energy, and shimmer of his stage presence is an artist who feels deeply and doesn’t shy away from reflection. We caught up virtually in one of his rare windows of downtime, chatting over video call while he sat in a car parked inside a garage between appointments. “It’s been a weird day, but good,” he said. That gentle honesty would shape the rest of our conversation.
Over the course of an hour, Hollis opened up about the emotional and spiritual terrain that shaped Star, a self-described “liminal” album made in a place that no longer exists. It’s an album that wasn’t finished by design, but by instinct—left raw on purpose, a snapshot of a fleeting, transitional moment. He spoke about learning to do more with less, showing restraint in a hyperstimulated world, and pushing himself to make music that can hit hard with only a few moving parts.
In person—or, in this case, onscreen—2hollis comes across less like an emerging star and more like a thoughtful friend you’ve known for years. The white tiger moniker and Griffith locs may glitter, but at heart, he’s someone who just wants to make music, fall in love, be near his family, and live inside the delicate magic of the present moment. A moment he calls boylife.

[RSK] With so much happening, what does your free time look like these days?
I rarely have free time, but when I do, most of it goes to music—honestly, it’s either music or time with friends and family. Amid all the chaos, I think it’s important to find moments to just be present and come back to Earth. Music isn’t always grounding in that way, but it is restorative—it’s my therapy and probably the most powerful form of self-expression I have. It helps me release emotions and energy.
When I’m not making music, I love just being with my friends—talking about anything except 2hollis for once, not thinking about that world at all. Letting myself forget about it, even just for a day, and doing something I would’ve done as a kid—that kind of reset feels really healing.
[RSK] You mentioned previously this idea of chasing your dreams, doing exactly what you're doing now is so beautiful, but also how it burns in the process.
I think it burns in all aspects. It's like it can burn in a destructive way, but also in a beautiful way. I think it just means everything. I think this intensity is like a burning. Something that's intense feels…
[RSK] It's like in your face. Whether good or bad, it's like you can't ignore it. It's there.
Exactly.

[RSK] You have that really beautiful song, “Eldest Child”—super acoustic and stripped down. It felt really vulnerable to me. You’re touching on the idea of being the eldest—your family being proud of you versus truly knowing you. And maybe even doing things you don’t necessarily want to be held to. Have you been able to reconcile those two identities? Do you still feel that split?
Yeah. “Eldest Child” definitely has multiple meanings. I am the eldest in my family, but it also felt like a reflection of what I was talking about earlier—this duality between being Hollis, the brother, the friend, and then being 2hollis, the artist, the character. That song is... complicated. It’s hard for me to break it all down. I remember when I recorded it, I was really angry, actually.
[RSK] That’s so interesting—because when I listen to it, I don’t hear anger at all. It feels tender. So hearing the backstory gives it a whole new dimension.
Yeah, to me, it is an angry song. Not necessarily at the world, but at the moment, at the frustration of the process. That’s where the emotion came in. Whether it’s anger, joy, whatever—if you can feel it, you can make something real out of it.
[RSK] Staying with this theme of identity, you've had a few name changes over the years. I know you once said, “Who wants to be called Drippy Soup anymore?” But that was a fun name.
Yeah. It really started as Drippy Soup. Then I transitioned into 2hollis. There were a few other names in between.

[RSK] Yeah, I thought I’d seen some floating around. But we’ll leave those as unicorns.
They’re too rare. If someone wants to find them badly enough, they will.
[RSK] A lot of artists either work with producers or pull beats off YouTube. What’s that like for you—starting completely from scratch every time with your own production? Do you ever question that approach?
I actually love it. That’s how I’ve always worked—being hands-on with everything. Production, mixing, artwork, music videos—I like to have a hand in every piece. That’s what makes it my vision. If I didn’t know how to produce, I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am now, at least not as an artist. Being able to push my ideas all the way through has made all the difference. For anyone out there who’s a singer and thinking about producing—I’d fully encourage it.
[RSK] I imagine that gives you way more satisfaction when everything comes together, right? Because you know it’s exactly what you wanted.
Exactly. I know what I want better than anyone else would. Like, I know how I want that snare to hit, how the breakdown should land, where the synths come in. And if I can hear it in my head, why wait for someone else to guess at it? I’ll just do it myself. That’s the best part.
[RSK] They always say, If you want something done right, you got to do it yourself. And then also it's true, people can't mind read for you.
I'm just a bit of a control freak.
[RSK] It’s okay—we all have our thing. But with this latest project, it felt like some of the songs were you talking to yourself, or talking through what it means to come to terms with how you see yourself and the role you play in your life and in others’. Especially in the song “Ego.” Can you talk me through some of the more recent internal conflicts or moments of clarity around identity you’ve experienced? It doesn’t have to be something from today—just anything that’s been on your mind lately.
Yeah, I think that’s a big one. It’s hard dealing with old friends. Almost every friend in my life, I’ve known since before Drippy Soup, even. I’m talking about elementary school—Nate Sib, Roman. I’ve known Jonas since freshman year. Nate and Finn since I was 10. These are my friends. Ryan too. A lot of the people I make music with now, we go way back. But I’ve got other friends too, from middle school, high school—people I deeply cherish.
There’s this balancing act, though. It always circles back to this tension of two lives: the one you come from and the one you’re stepping into. And sometimes friends feel like I’ve switched up, like I’m too famous to talk to them now, or like I think I’m too cool. I get that message more than I wish I did—and it always stings. Because I’m not that. I’m not switching up for the money or the clout or any of that. Fuck that. That’s the last thing I want. But it’s still hard to manage it all.
It’s real. When you start getting attention, money in your pocket, and love from strangers, your ego’s going to react. Everyone goes through that. I’ve had some bad days, and I’m working on it. But I’m human. I’m going through something that’s kind of insane. People feel a way about me sometimes. Even some of my fans—it’s like an old friend who’s like, “I don’t know you anymore.” And I’m like, “I’m just trying to figure this ride out.” It’s a lot. But I think what matters is being aware, being open to change, and not falling too deep into some pointless, ego-driven mindset.
[RSK] It’s so true—people wrestle with ego even without a spotlight on them. When your time becomes limited, and you’re being pulled in so many directions, it makes those relationships harder to maintain. Like you said, it’s not like you have all of the time in the world anymore.
Exactly. I wish it was summer break and we’d all just start again in a month. Sometimes I really do wish for that. But back when I was living that life, I was wishing every day to be doing what I’m doing now. So I’m grateful—it’s just not all sunshine and rainbows, you know? Sometimes it’s a little rough.

[RSK] Sometimes there’s a pot of gold at the end, but not always. I feel you. You mentioned your oldest friends—people you’ve known for decades—and how dear they are to you. I’ve got people like that too, and they really are so precious. And some of them, like you said with Nate, you get to explore both sides of yourself with—both the personal and the creative. I’m curious about this “boy life” idea you all have created. What does that mean to you, especially in the context of doing all this with your closest friends?
Yeah, to me, “boy life” is more of a vibe than anything else. It’s not quite a boy band—it is, but it’s not. It’s just… living life. We’re boys, we’re going through wild experiences, we’re traveling the world. Like, me, Nate, Roman, and Ryan—we were in Tokyo and just looking at each other like, “This is boy life. What the fuck is going on?”
I don’t think it’ll be the name of an album or a group or anything—it’s more just a vibe.
[RSK] You often talk about wanting to be in love. What does true love look like to you, or where do you think that longing comes from?
I think I’m a bit of a hopeless romantic. All my life, I’ve fantasized and dreamed of having a real love story. I’ve always wanted that—something like Howl’s Moving Castle or the movie Your Name.
[RSK] I’ve watched Your Name four million times. It’s heartbreaking.
Yeah. I’ve just always craved that feeling—that something like that could happen to me. I don’t know. I find huge inspiration in love. I don’t think I’ve ever really experienced it the way I imagine it, but it inspires me deeply. And I do believe I’ll find it one day. But sometimes I wonder if I ever will—not to get all dramatic.

[RSK] No, it’s okay. That’s the point of this.
Yeah. Sometimes I even wonder if it’s something I want more than anything else. Like, I love music. It’s all I’ve ever done, all I know. But sometimes I wonder—do I want love even more than success or any of that other stuff? It’s something I want so badly. And maybe this sounds cynical, but I don’t know… the way people find love these days—it just feels so shallow. I don’t want to DM someone. I don’t want to be at some party like, “Hey, let me get your number.” I like shit to feel special, But I would much rather forever be lonely but wish for something beautiful and picturesque to happen than just do some shit that doesn't feel special to me. I don't know. You know what I mean?
[RSK] I do. I go back and forth with that too. I’ll see something like The Notebook and think, “Wow, this could be everything.” And then also think—“Wait, is that even possible anymore?”
It is. I truly think it is. Because no matter what happens in the world—no matter how loud and chaotic things get—there will always be true love. It’s universal. You can’t erase that. Even on another planet, I think love would exist. There’s some past life stuff in there too—I believe in all of that. It’s all connected. You can’t stop it.
It’s funny we’re talking about this because I was really thinking about it last night. Well, I think about it every night. But I realized that when I’m actively searching and longing and aching for love, it feels less and less real or attainable. But when I let go and trust that the universe has its plan, and I focus on being present, that’s when things start to align.
[RSK] Yeah. Like when you’re not holding on too tightly.
Exactly. It’s like being a little kid in a store begging their mom for a Pokémon card. That desperation has a low frequency. You don’t attract things that way. It’s not about begging—it's about manifesting. Not “please give me this,” but “this is already mine.” It’s a different energy.

[RSK] Is there a lesson you’ve learned from an ancestor—something that stuck with you? Maybe even a lesson you’d want to pass down?
Hmm, let me think. There’s a lot. I’m trying to pick one. I don’t know if this is deep or anything, but one thing that always stuck with me was from my grandma—my dad’s mom. I don’t really drink, but one time she told me, “If you’re ever going to get a drink, never get something with sugar. Always get it on the rocks.” She said her dad taught her that. So if I ever do drink, it’s straight up, on the rocks. Never a Moscow Mule or anything sweet.
[RSK] That's solid. My dad says he’s never been drunk in his life—who knows if that’s true—but he’s not into drinking either.
That’s kind of me too. I think I’ve only been drunk maybe five times total.
[RSK] That's very respectable. So, switching gears—on your new project Star, you mentioned it was recorded in your childhood home, which was sadly lost in the fires. What part of that space do you think lives on in the music? And does the project feel like a memento of your home in a way?
That’s a good question. It’s strange, because when I was making the album, I had no idea my house was going to burn down because who can predict that. So none of the music was about the house or had that energy in mind. The lyrics aren’t centered on it, and conceptually, it’s not about loss. If anything, the album is pretty upbeat and lighthearted.

[RSK] Right, I noticed that—it feels bright, not mournful.
Yeah. So when it happened, and I was already leaving for tour three or five days later, I had this album. And I thought maybe I’d keep working on it, but I was on the road. And I’m the type of artist that, once I feel a project is done, I don’t want to touch it anymore. I don’t like to overwork things. So I decided to just leave it as it was.
And now, with the house gone, it’s almost like fate sealed the project for me. It became a snapshot—a timestamp. It feels like the energy of that home lives in the album, even though the songs aren’t directly about it.
[RSK] It’s liminal, maybe?
Yes, exactly. Liminal. It was made in a space that no longer exists. So even though that wasn’t the plan, it ended up becoming something sacred in that way. I didn’t want to mess with it. I let it be.
[RSK] That makes total sense. It’s powerful in its own right.
Yeah. I love the album. I think it’s some of my best work. One weird part? The song “Burn”—I made that two months before the fire. The chorus is all about burning, and I added these fire effects. The original name of that song? It was “Star.” I changed it later. Kind of eerie, right?

[RSK] Whoa. Yeah, that’s eerie. Thank you for sharing all of that. I have a few more questions—one of them is about something you said in a past interview. You said you don’t journal, but that your music serves that role for you—that you reflect on old songs like a diary. Do you still feel that way?
Yeah, I do. I still do that.
[RSK] So when you listen back to this latest project someday—maybe even tomorrow, maybe 10 years from now—what do you think you’ll notice about yourself?
That’s a good question. It always hits differently in hindsight. Even recently, I ran back my Jarl album while driving, and I was like, “Damn, this is incredible.” That was such a specific time. I had this clear vision, even if my tools weren’t as sharp back then.
[RSK] Alright, last question—since this is for Rolling Stone Korea, what did you like about Korea the last time you visited? And what are you looking forward to when you go back next month? Any favorite K-pop songs?
I love Korea. It’s a beautiful city. The crowd at the show was insane—the energy was unreal. The bomb threat was wild. I’ll never forget that. We were only there for about two days, so this next trip, I’m hoping to stay longer. Maybe even work on some music while I’m there. As for K-pop—I love LOONA. They’re awesome.

[RSK] Alright, we’ve got maybe two minutes left. My sister said I had to ask you about your dancing—your footwork! Is that something spontaneous for you, like a natural reaction to the music?
Totally. It’s like a teapot on the stove—you just can’t contain the steam. I can’t help it. That dance has kind of become a staple. It’s so fun. Anyone who tries it will understand—it’s the most fun.
[RSK] That’s how it should be.
I hope people feel that from me—that energy. That joy. I’m on stage having the time of my life.
[RSK] They definitely do. Last thing—I played your music for my grandma last Christmas. She’s usually glued to her chair, but she got up and moved like I’ve never seen before.
That’s sick. (he laughs)
You can find the full interview and a variety of exclusive photos of 2HOLLIS in the upcoming Rolling Stone Korea Special Edition Vol. 3.
PHOTOGRAPHS BY KIMMOONDOG