In conversation with Sunday (1994): “It feels as though we’ve arrived”

Welcome to Sunday service. Thank you for attending, and for being eternally devoted. Today, we have a guest speaker: Paige Turner, lead singer of the alt-pop, cross-continental band, Sunday (1994). She will now take to the stage – here’s to tomorrow.

Now the formalities are out of the way, I have the privilege of sharing my conversation with Paige Turner, lead singer of Sunday (1994). The band began their conquest for world domination in February 2024, releasing their first single, ‘Tired Boy’, and since then their mission has proved mightily fruitful. Their quintessential indie alternative, dream pop sound has captured the hearts of nations; their splendour is only just beginning. 

Speaking on their inspirations, Turner referred to the band’s passions as a “constantly revolving door”, citing Madra Salach, Ian McEwan, Vangelis, and more as the founding fathers of their faith. Heavenly Creatures (1994) got a special shout-out, a psychological, thrilling biographical film about the Parker-Hulme murder case. Every single influence Turner shared manifests inexplicably in the band’s art, there being something intangible about their produce. The band perform, release, address, and write in a fascinating style: there is something blissfully untouchable about them, almost as if the veil between life and death is somewhat thinner when you associate with them. They have a mystical quality which exudes from all that they do. 

Prone to a pint of Guinness, often caught swigging from a can mid guitar solo when performing live, they love “California for the days, and London for the evenings”

Something I noticed, undeniably so, was that all their answers to my questions felt supremely calculated: everything alludes to something else – they mean what they say, but they mean something else too. When I asked Turner which of the two EPs the band has released so far was her favourite, she told me the self-titled first EP currently took first place, “purely for the fact it has more songs on it (for now)”. Of course, your band’s first release will inevitably hold a special place in your heart, but you can tell Turner has high standards for the work Sunday (1994) put out, leading to equal pride in everything they do. Something about “for now”, though, tells me I got a glimpse into the next project on the way. Our services will be longer; we will marvel eternally. 

Lead singer, Turner, and guitarist, Lee Newell, collaborate effortlessly, meeting “at a show at the Palladium in Los Angeles” over a decade ago, dating one another ever since, talking about making music together “from the beginning”. Despite their burning passion however, they didn’t want to rush the conception of their legacy: “we waited until we were completely certain about what we wanted to say, and how to say it”. Their mediation, harmony, and time spent in the industry doing “everything from sync work for advertising to designing artwork… to writing songs for other people” has paid off – they are practiced professionals, gracing listeners with the blessing of a lifetime. 

Turner is from Los Angeles, although Newell comes from Slough in England. Their alternate experiences are interwoven in the lyricism of the band, giving fans balance, bliss, and mercy. Speaking on location, Turner told me that, living in L.A., “naturally we spend more time in the States”, but that the two definitely differ in what they offer. Prone to a pint of Guinness, often caught swigging from a can mid guitar solo when performing live, they love “California for the days, and London for the evenings”. They’re sun-kissed and sensual; they’re Sunday (1994).

Turner sent me the band’s manifesto which they wrote “before releasing a single note of music”. It’s unfathomably in character for them: “three colours suffice – four is an indulgence; five is jazz”

Alongside the interview, Turner sent me the band’s manifesto which they wrote “before releasing a single note of music”. It’s unfathomably in character for them: “three colours suffice – four is an indulgence; five is jazz”. The aesthetic of the band is something very few artists have managed to achieve. It’s something cohesive, unbreakable, and angelic. Black, white, and crushed pink. Three tones which capture everything they are about. Despite it seemingly being central to their identity, Turner told me, “the aesthetic isn’t something we overthink”, and when I mentioned how they’d told another publication they were trying to style themselves as if they were in their own 90s film, I was met with, “Did we really say that? Christ on a bike.” That’s the crushed pink shining through, raw and unfiltered. While many of their songs are cinematically melancholic, reminiscent and yearning, there’s a touch of light-heartedness to each word Turner utters – you have to laugh, or you’ll cry, or to quote the manifesto, “if it doesn’t make you laugh then it isn’t sad enough”.

Never clearer is this feeling than when witnessing Sunday (1994) live in concert, and it’s evidently something a lot of people relate to, given that they played a whopping 57 shows in 2025. I had the honour of seeing the set in Birmingham in November, and there was something even more authentic about the live performance, intended to be “more brash and muscular than the recordings”: the guitar cried more, each drum hit felt like a punch to the gut, and Turner’s vocals hugged you tight. Despite touring so much, the band hasn’t burned out. On the contrary, it is like escapism for them. “We really enjoy touring – it keeps us present, which is a welcome respite from being so in our heads when writing and recording.” 

While I had the chance to talk with the band, I wanted to dive into some of the themes on their two EPs released thus far, Sunday (1994) and Devotion. ‘Stained Glass Window’ features lyrics such as “It makes me cry that I have to hide / The hands that touch me / If they found out we’d be crucified” and “The preachers say that I’ll go to hell / But I don’t want anybody else” – if that isn’t religious trauma, I don’t know what is. On the track, Turner admirably told me they are “cautious about over-explaining songs”, meaning being ultimately “decided by the listener”, but, nonetheless, “it is about religious trauma: a running theme in our lives, God forbid!” 

After getting the “for now” teaser earlier in our chat, I tested my luck, asking whether the band has plans for another EP, or maybe even an album. The result? Miraculous

Alongside the religious imagery in the song, the band also use similar iconography in their presentation, Turner painting a small crucifix on her cheek for all performances, “drawing from life”. Much like the aesthetic, this isn’t something “overly calculated”, but instinctual, as, after all, “a strong identity simply reinforces confidence in the message of the art”. Sunday (1994) are simply a mechanism, giving us scripture from which we can derive our own practice, with us always. 

After getting the “for now” teaser earlier in our chat, I tested my luck, asking whether the band has plans for another EP, or maybe even an album. The result? Miraculous. Turner revealed they are “about to release a deluxe edition of the current EP, Devotion”, and are then set to “move straight into the debut album rollout”. As well as new music coming very soon, the band also have plans for “a few other very exciting projects” – we will have to gather again upon their announcement. Often, artists will repurpose songs from EPs on forthcoming albums, specifically if they aid the narrative progression of the body or fit thematically. While this helps an artist to gauge fan reception to upcoming releases, it can be underwhelming for dedicated listeners. On this point, Turner reassured me that “everything moving forward is entirely new – we made an early decision not to recycle material”. Sunday (1994) are artists, creating passionately, curating exactly what it is they want to say. Everything is beautifully calculated, and also undetermined, all at the same time. The art speaks for itself. We live here, and we die here.

And with that, our service has concluded. A huge thank you to Paige Turner – it was a pleasure talking with you. It will be a while before we come together again, but I have no doubt we’ll be hearing from Sunday (1994) again very soon. For now, we’ll wait for doomsday.