Guilty. We’re often bad at doing nothing. A free evening? Better make plans. An unanswered text feels weird and being alone for too long can start to feel like something we should fix asap. So we desperately fill the silence. Another plan, another person, another distraction.
Vincent Fenton aka French Kiwi Juice (FKJ) makes being alone sound pretty damn cool. FOMO left the chat. It’s where he creates, experiments and leaves room for what he calls “happy meetings”.
On his new album TYBER, out today, solitude meets encounters that stick with you, while jazz, soul and electronic sounds melt into something warm, weightless and almost ethereal. At some point, the lines between genres disappear altogether and his new album enters a whole new dimension.
We sat down with FKJ to talk about the underrated art of being alone, letting life surprise you and why doing less might sometimes be the remedy we need.
ANAZIN AKPO: I feel like we’re living in a time where everything moves incredibly fast. When someone asks how we’re feeling, we almost automatically say, “We’re good.” And if we’re honest, that doesn’t always feel real. So, Vincent, how are you, genuinely?
FRENCH KIWI JUICE: That’s a good question, I appreciate that. I’m tired, but it’s a good kind of tired. I’m rehearsing for a new show, the first one I’ve created since 2023, while releasing the album here in Paris. I just moved back after leaving in 2018 and living in Southeast Asia. So there’s a lot happening, but I’m really happy.
AA: What pulled you back to Paris?
FKJ Paris feels the most like home to me. I mean, I have very close people here, and I love the contrast of the city. Southeast Asia can feel almost like paradise, while Paris has this interplay of beauty and roughness, light and darkness. And that tension is really inspiring to me.
AA: Talking about inspiration, what has inspired you most lately?
FKJ Spaces. I moved into a place in Paris that was basically a blank canvas, and I realised creating spaces is almost as much of a passion for me as music. Paris became my little baby project. I like building places where people can live and create. Back in Southeast Asia, my family and I are building a school from scratch, and I built my studio there too.
AA: I’ve known you as FKJ for years, but I’d never really stopped to think about “French Kiwi Juice”. Where did the name come from?
FKJ I came up with it in 2012 on the Paris subway, scribbling names into a notebook because I had music ready to release. My mother is French and my father is from New Zealand. They met travelling in Central America, and travelling is one of the greatest things they gave us: back then, we weren’t spoiled kids, but we were always going somewhere with backpacks and tents, usually on a tiny budget. And a lot of my music comes from those journeys, so it felt right that the name came from the people who made them possible. That’s why, French is my mother, Kiwi is my dad, and I’m the mix.
AA: Let’s talk about your new album TYBER, which came out today. What does “Tyber” actually mean?
FKJ “Tyber” is the name of a being I incarnated during a retreat. It was a tree, which is why there’s one on the album cover, and it carried a level of serenity beyond anything I’d ever felt. A close friend guided me to this retreat, where they practiced a tradition from Gabon and I took the Iboga plant. During that experience, I met this being. I now think of Tyber as a higher version of myself, an ideal state I try to embody in daily life. That experience closed the chapter of making the album.
AA: Soulmates introduced this new chapter, and I love that the song feels as much about being alone as it does about being with someone. When did being alone become something you enjoy rather than fear, and how does that shape the way you work?
FKJ: Pretty much always. I grew up in the countryside in central France, about two hours south of Paris. And there wasn’t much around, so I spent a lot of time alone. If I wanted to see friends, I had to ride my bike for kilometres… that solitude led me to my sister’s classical guitar, then to learning songs from tabs and recording music when I was around thirteen. I love making music with other people, but I really cherish the… how would you say it?
AA: The introspection.
AA: Yeah, a lot of people recharge around others, while you seem to recharge by being with yourself. And real talk, TYBER lowkey feels like an album made for a solo trip. Why do you think being alone scares so many people?
FKJ Because you have to face your own thoughts and sometimes your own problems. If you grew up surrounded by family, community or city life, solitude can feel unfamiliar. For me it was the opposite. I grew up with my own thoughts, so being alone became a natural place to return to.
AA Does boredom belong to that space too? Is that where melodies get room to appear?
FKJ Yeah, boredom is super important, and it’s disappearing. We’re constantly surrounded by images, ads, trends, everything. Compared to growing up in the ’90s, it feels exponential. That’s kind of scary, because boredom leaves room for something unexpected to arrive.
AA: Your music has always been hard to put into one genre because it moves between so many worlds. Where does TYBER take us this time?
FKJ TYBER leans more into my rock influences, especially ’70s rock. Soulmates has these heavily saturated guitars. I Want You moves closer to early-’70s soul, while Journey, the opening track, has this psychedelic rock, almost sci-fi electronic feeling. Then there are piano ballads too, of course.
AA: You also brought several artists into that world, including Labrinth, Lucy Park oder Eryn Allen Kane. What were those collaborations like?
FKJ Very natural. Most of the collaborations were happy meetings that happened while I was making the album. I record with a lot of people, and not every great session belongs on the same record. The ones that made TYBER fit its journey, but they started with friendship and the experience of making something together. They’re all artists I genuinely love.
AA: Is there a song or line on the album that stays with you more than the others?
FKJ It changes with the moment. If I’m waking up and slowly rising into the day, I’d put on How Much Does It Take to Shift It All? If I’m driving in the rain, probably Burst mit Baby Rose. I think, different songs belong to different moods.
AA: Your album was made across London, LA, Paris and other places. Do places leave a certain sound behind?
FKJ Definitely. The environment changes the music, and that’s probably why TYBER has so many moods. My first album was made in a peaceful remote place during lockdown, and it has a much more one-BPM feeling. While Paris, for example, does the opposite to me: things get faster. The people, culture, temperature, air, weather, architecture, all of it enters the music.
AA: When something outside inspires you, do you just carry it with you, or do you write it down immediately?
FKJ: Well, places kind of stain you, so you don’t always need to put the inspiration on paper. But I journal every day, usually first thing in the morning. It helps with concepts, ideas, or just figuring something out. And if a melody comes while I’m riding my bike, I’ll sing it into my phone.
AA: I like that image of places leaving traces on you. Earlier you called your Paris studio a blank canvas, so it feels like you return home carrying all these impressions and start painting with them.
Let’s have a throwback to Tadow real quick. If you met the Vincent from that time, what would surprise him most about your life today?
FKJ Probably how unpredictable everything became. Around Tadow, I was just starting to move toward Southeast Asia. I couldn’t even have pointed to where I live now on a map, and today I call it home. Of course I never expected the level of success Tadow reached either. But what still amazes me most isn’t success, it’s how life keeps changing in ways you could never plan. I’m really grateful for that.
AA: We’ve talked a lot about solitude, change and finding your way back to yourself. When someone reaches the end of TYBER, what do you hope stays with them?
FKJ Serenity and optimism. That’s what I hope people feel when they listen to this album, and really to any music I make. I want the music to leave something positive behind.
AA: Does hearing that music live change the feeling?
FKJ Yeah. Live, there’s suddenly a social side to something that often begins in solitude. You’re sharing it with a whole room of people. And this tour is also a tribute to everything that built me as a musician.
AA: Thank you so much, Vincent.
FKJ You’re welcome.
