BERENICE RELEASES ANTIPASTI: A TASTE OF WHAT'S TO COME

PHOTOGRAPHY AISHANI GOPALAN - WORDS MAISIE JANE DANIELS

BERENICE is F Word’s latest one-to-watch. Her debut EP Antipasti, released today, doesn’t just soundtrack emotion - it serves it up in courses, full of flavour and feeling.

In her latest single  If I Took A Shot, heartbreak sounds like a toast to the one who got away - bittersweet, yes, but also cheeky, cinematic, and held together by a chorus of chosen family. There’s something wildly beautiful about the way she turns longing into a communal experience. As if to say: if we’re going down in our feelings, we’re going down singing.

F Word’s interview with this superstar-in-the-making is a window into the magic - an artist in full bloom, offering up her first course. No filter. No face. Just feeling. And trust us: you’ll want seconds.

Maisie Daniels: Hey BERENICE, welcome to F Word! How has summer been treating you so far?

BERNICE: Thank you for having me! Summer’s been a mix of long train rides, cheap (for London) spritzes and singing my guts out in very random places. I’ve been busking, sweating, crying, performing, all in the same 48 hours. So... dreamy, really. 10/10.

MD: First off, is BERENICE your real name or a stage name? And what’s the story behind choosing it?

It’s actually my third name. My full name is Matilde Camilla Berenice. I know. My friends say each name has its own personality. Matilde does taxes, Camilla is well behaved on first dates, and Berenice is the diva.

I’m extremely indecisive and I knew I’d regret any made up stage name. So I went with a name that’s already on my passport. At least I’d have my parents to blame. Plus I loved how three capital Es would look on the Hammersmith Apollo billboard. Reasonable expectations, as per usual.

MD: Let’s rewind a bit - when did music first become a meaningful part of your life? Was there a moment that made you realise this was your path?

Music’s always been there. My parents took me to concerts when I was tiny. Like, I was the kid asleep in row 5 with earplugs while guitars shredded in the background. But I started writing silly jingles about my favourite foods before I could really have a conversation. Then one day at eight years old, I wrote a proper song and something clicked. It was like realising I had this magic power that could help me make sense of my brain, and I’ve carried it with me ever since.

MD: You’ve been honing your craft since you were eight! What’s been the biggest lesson about creativity you’ve learned along the way?

B: That it’s not about waiting for inspiration, it’s about noticing when it shows up in disguise. A voice note, a weird dream, an embarrassing text you never sent. The best ideas usually come when you’re not trying to write a song. They sneak in while you’re doing laundry or waiting for the bus. I love writing songs on long walks. So keep your antenna up. Be ready.

MD: How has your Italian heritage influenced your music?

B: Italy shaped the way I see and feel everything. There’s so much beauty woven into everyday life, in architecture, in food, in the way people dress a table or describe the sea. Growing up around that kind of constant aesthetic attention taught me that details matter and that emotion can be layered and quiet and still powerful.

I’m from Torino, which is a very reserved part of Italy: not loud or theatrical the way people often imagine. But even in that quiet, there’s a deep emotional undercurrent. In the culture, expressing feeling, through words, art, rituals, is seen as necessary, not indulgent. That really shaped me. My music might sound bold now, but it comes from a place of observing, processing, and then finally saying something out loud, often for the first time.

MD: Your debut EP, Antipasti, feels like it could be the soundtrack to a coming-of-age film. If you had to pick a film genre and plot line that perfectly captures the spirit of this EP, what would it be? And just for fun - who would you want to play you in the film?

B: Definitely a coming-of-age indie film with no real plot, just emotionally significant glances, glitter, bad decisions, and amazing styling. The kind of movie where you cry in a supermarket parking lot while a glittery synth ballad plays and somehow that’s the emotional climax.

Plot-wise: girl thinks she’s handling things like a grown-up, but is actually discovering heartbreak, obsession, and self-worth for the first time and feeling everything way too much. But she’s doing it in killer boots.

And Matilda De Angelis would play me, obviously. Same name, Italian goddess, incredible voice. She’s got that emotional weight mixed with quiet mischief, and I feel like she could fully commit to crying in a karaoke bar while whisper-singing my lyrics into an empty bottle.

MD: If you had to create an antipasti platter to symbolise yourself, what would be on it? And why?

B: Definitely: focaccia (for softness and comfort), olive oil (classic, dramatic), mozzarella di bufala (fragile but rich, locally sourced), rucola (a little bitter, a little wild), and sun-dried tomatoes (because I like to linger). It’s a metaphor and a snack.

MD: ‘If I Took A Shot’ is your latest single, a bittersweet anthem that blends nostalgia and grown-up honesty. Can you talk us through the track in your own words?

B: It’s about someone I never really got over, or maybe never really got to know. I’m obsessed with sitting with the past, especially when it comes to feelings that linger quietly for years. It’s fascinating. I find the biggest emotions live in the almosts, the what-ifs, the things left unsaid.

The line “if I took a shot for every time I sang you in a song” says it all. It’s kind of the song of songs for me. I’ve spent years declaring things in music that I’ve never actually said out loud.

That’s the irony: I’m trying to build a career off of feelings, but I still struggle to speak plainly about most of them. So this track holds that contradiction. It’s a bit of a confession, a bit of a joke, and maybe the closest I’ve come to saying what I really mean.

MD: What do you hope listeners take away from the single?

B: Maybe that some what-ifs and almosts have a purpose. Some things are just there to teach you how to sit with not having them. How to be okay without closure.

A friend of my dad’s once told me: “Maybe your purpose in this life isn’t to be a musician. It’s to learn how to not be one. Because in your past life, you already were.” And weirdly, that stuck with me.

In a way, this song plays with that same idea. I’ve written it. But I can’t control where it goes, how they’ll hear it, or if they ever will. Especially when you’re dealing with another whole person, with another life and inner world, you can’t write their ending for them.

I’ve always been someone who obsesses over not having an answer, maybe not getting one is the answer. Maybe this person was always meant to be my biggest muse and nothing more.

MD: Your track features friends and family in the background atmosphere, turning heartbreak into a communal celebration. How important is community in your creative process and healing journey?

B: So important. Community truly is the foundation. I don’t think I could do any of this alone, and I wouldn’t want to. My mum’s in the track shouting “Mati!” thirty times until we got the take right. My friends are literally in the background vocals. It turns a personal ache into something collective, like heartbreak karaoke.

And honestly, community is what reminds me I’m not alone in the mess. That’s healing in itself. It really does take a village: to make a record, to get through heartbreak, to show up for your own life. And I’m so incredibly lucky to have people I can count on without thinking twice. Myself included.

MD: If you could go back in time and give your younger self one piece of advice - what would it be?

B: Stop trying to make everything smaller just so it fits into someone else’s expectations. Your feelings aren’t too much. Your dreams aren’t unrealistic. You’re not annoying for caring deeply about things that haven’t happened yet.

Also: you won’t always get an explanation. But you will get good lyrics. So write everything down. Even when it feels dramatic. Especially then.

MD: This EP is just the first part of a trilogy leading to your full-length album - such an exciting journey! Can you share what themes or emotions listeners can expect to explore as the trilogy unfolds?

B: Antipasti is the first taste: it’s loud, dramatic, saturated, full of first times. First heartbreak, first obsession, first big regret. Each song feels like a separate genre because each emotion hits like a new planet. As the trilogy unfolds, the story deepens. More clarity, more defiance, more surrender. It’s like the emotional arc of growing up, but in three courses.

MD: What role does visual storytelling - like music videos or album art - play in bringing your music to life?

B: I’m Italian so visuals have always meant something to me. Every detail carries weight. For Antipasti, I wanted the cover to feel quiet because the music isn’t. There are so many words in this EP. So many lyrics. Even spoken poetry between tracks.

The cover is just me standing alone from the waist down. No face. No expression to explain how I feel. It goes against every marketing rule but I wanted to show presence not identity. The feeling of facing something for the first time with no filter. In absolute and not relative terms. That’s what this EP is about.

MD: Your songs feel like emotional road trips, full of highs and lows. How does songwriting serve as a form of catharsis or discovery for you?

B: Such a good question. I’m not sure. I honestly wouldn’t know how else to process most of my feelings. Songwriting is like journaling with extra dimension. The music gives words an emotional angle, the way intonation can completely shift the meaning of a sentence.

I have a song for almost every experience I’ve had since I was eight. Going back to them feels like smelling a perfume you wore years ago. It doesn’t just remind you, it takes you straight back.

That’s where the catharsis is. But it’s also a kind of discovery. Writing helps me saturate a feeling until I can finally see it clearly, outside of myself.

MD: Dream collaborator alert: Who would be your ultimate dream to work with, dead or alive, and why?

B: Patti Smith. She’s everything I want to be when I grow up: poet, performer, punk, prophet. She writes with such clarity and force, but never loses the emotion. I feel like working with her would be less about chasing the perfect song and more about getting to the truth of it. Just words, instinct, and a bit of fire.

MD: For young female artists trying to find their voice today, what advice would you offer?

B: Start before you feel ready. No one is thinking about you as much as you think they are. Mary from middle school might see your reel, think about it for thirty seconds, and then keep scrolling. But if you don’t try, you’ll be the one thinking about it for the rest of your life.

Every definition of cool is relative. So is loud. So is beautiful. So is too much. Nobody can do your thing better than you. Your voice is your voice, even if it shakes, even if it’s weird, even if it’s not what’s trending right now. That’s the point. This is your statement.

MD: Finally, this is F Word magazine so we have to ask - what’s your favourite F Word!?

B: Feral. She writes the songs. I just press send. Though focaccia is a close second.