Sophia Stel has a very specific memory from last year’s Paris Fashion Week. She was suddenly moving through unfamiliar, decidedly more glamorous rooms than she was used to, and walking the runway for Ann Demeulemeester—but she was also broke.

“I really only had one outfit, and it’s black and navy, which is supposedly against the rules,” she remembers, as we catch up at the end of summer in east London over coffee. “I actually think black and navy look amazing together.” The tension of it all fed directly into “On My Dick,” the opening track of her debut album, The Greatest Album of All Time, and what she calls an “all-out diss track” about people who were more in it for clout and the money she didn’t have.

“I had a lot of frustration and such bad imposter syndrome.”

The title of the record—announced today—is a dare to herself. “One of my greatest struggles—and why it took me so long to start releasing music when I’d been making it for so long—is confidence,” the 27-year-old artist and producer says. “Ultimately, the reason this album is called The Greatest Album of All Time is because it’s about this decision to be kind of absurdly confident.”

Due October 16 via A24 Music, the 10-track self-produced record follows Stel’s 2024 debut EP, Object Permanence, and this year’s How to Win At Solitaire. Born in Victoria, B.C., and shaped by years working in Vancouver’s club scene (there, she worked a number of non-creative jobs to get by), she made music on the side for many years before her emotionally electrifying, genre-hopscotching songs began finding an audience.

In the past year, she made that aforementioned runway debut, opened for Lorde, and embarked on her first headline tour, going from barely traveling to crossing the Atlantic regularly.

“I’d never been to Europe until this time last year, and I’ve been over 10 times since,” she says. “I lived my life in one sort of way for quite a long time, and then things really flipped. I found myself in all of these new spaces and having new types of experiences.”

The Greatest Album of All Time is Stel’s attempt to capture that whiplash while it is still happening. She finished the album only days before our conversation, having told A24 she wanted to keep making it throughout the year so it could remain “a response to what was going on in real time.”

“Each song carries a different place in that journey for me,” she says. “To me, this record is probably the closest I’ve come to making… almost a musical.

It’s really not a musical, but it feels like that to me.” Ethereal, elusive synths interweave with melancholic live strings, jumping to dream-pop guitars and Euro rave climaxes blunted by distorted percussion—it’s Stel’s sound at its most ambitious and assured yet. Its themes—of turbulent relationships and meandering life paths, toxic patterns and the euphoria found in everyday moments—are expressed with diaristic intimacy.

The first song she made was the hypnotic “Like A Kite,” written around a year ago and almost abandoned after she got stuck on its second verse. “The feeling has to hit,” she says.

“Often I’ll try to write about something and make 10 songs, and then one will be the one where I feel like I’ve finally captured it.” It became one of the record’s throbbing arteries, with its body-high bass and vulnerable lines about giving into curious new feelings.

Her instincts mattered more than ever, as this is the first record Stel has made while knowing people are really waiting to hear it. “My first project, no one was listening,” she says.

Her second was already finished before Object Permanence began gaining traction. “I didn’t yet feel perceived.

This project, I felt so perceived when I started making it.” Her response was to become more stubborn about following her own taste. “You get so lost as soon as you start trying to guess what people want.”

Instead, she tests songs on the people who knew her before all of this: her brothers (Luke and Royce) and closest friends. “They’re probably the only people whose opinions I really allow to touch the music,” she says, noticing which tracks they ask to hear again or linger around to listen to while she works.

Across the last few weeks, she’s been testing new songs like the neon-synth-inflected, anthemic “Molly In The Club” on her crowds. “People know the lyrics already,” she says, smiling wickedly, “but I love them even more when they’re pretending to know them.

I know the trick! Mouthing ‘watermelon.’”

Stel’s perfectionism is reserved almost entirely for music. “I never thought of myself that way until my girlfriend pointed it out—I’m trying to let go a little more,” she admits.

She still uses the same microphone she found eight years ago and has spent years refining the processing on her distinctive alto. “I use tuning as an instrument,” she says.

“It’s also given me a lot of freedom with my range and, for me, a kind of gender creativeness. I can sing really low and sing high and feel like two different people on a lot of the songs.”

The more meticulous she becomes in making the songs, the more she has had to accept imperfection in releasing them. “I don’t think I would ever have released music if I hadn’t come to the conclusion that it’s never going to feel done or perfect for me,” she says. “Music is about feeling. Being a good artist is about allowing yourself to be seen as imperfect too.”

Her style operates on a similar gut feel. Hazy music videos are often shot on digicam, directed with friends, and intended to evoke a specific feeling.

Even as the fashion world has increasingly come calling—Stel has recently modeled for Palace and Gimaguas—she remains resistant to anything overly polished. “I’m extremely exhausted by most stylists’ approach,” she says, pulling at the sleeves of her Under Armour shirt.

“When I was modeling for Gimaguas, I just had to make sure we had some Flo Rida playing. In my own style, I like simplicity.

I obviously like athleisure. I like to be comfortable.” She is a committed outfit repeater, with her best-loved pieces including a red Telfar tote, and her wardrobe was largely built in Vancouver’s Value Village thrift stores, where the absence of curation is precisely the appeal.

“You’re choosing things purely based on what they look like,” she says. “Nobody has decided what’s cool for you.

If I’m struggling to write, I’ll go shopping and find some things and feel re-inspired.” And despite finding herself increasingly adjacent to designer fashion, her spending priorities remain refreshingly straightforward. “If I’m wearing designer, it’s fake or it was free,” she says.

“I have to save my money for a house!”

“I’ve struggled with feeling like I don’t fit in because I don’t have nice things,” she adds. “I want to rebel against that feeling. Fake designer is fire because you feel like you’re doing the thing, but everyone knows it’s fake and you’re being clear about it. It’s a performance.” (This includes wacky colored Gucci bags and misspelled, heavily logo-ed Louis Vuitton boxer shorts.)

That challenging philosophy extends to A24, whose young, female-led music team appealed to Stel as they didn’t seem interested in pushing her towards an imagined (or algorithmically-led) next wave. “They truly have let me do what I want,” she says, recalling times when some of the dozens of record labels she met before seemed to put women and visibly queer people in meetings in an attempt to reel her in.

A24’s expanding universe as a production company and label was also another draw. (Stel is only their second signee.) After the premiere of The Drama, she spent an after-party standing near Robert Pattinson, too shy to introduce herself. “I got so hammered, but I’m so shy that just having him in the same room all night…” she laughs. “I didn’t talk to him.”

“A big part of how music became so important to me, even as a child, was that it made my life feel like a movie,” Stel adds. She hopes, eventually, to score one herself.

For now, there is the small matter of releasing The Greatest Album of All Time. Stel sounds remarkably calm about what happens once it is out of her hands. “When you release music, it goes where it’s meant to,” she says. “Sometimes immediately people love it, sometimes it takes a long time, and sometimes people don’t love it. You have to be okay with that if you want to be true to yourself.”

After a busy summer on the European festival circuit, she’ll continue to play sold-out shows across the globe, including A.G. Cook and PC Music’s hectic Pop Crypt night on Halloween in Brooklyn and Primavera Sound in Buenos Aires and São Paulo.

For now, though, it’s all about the countdown to releasing the album. (When we part ways today, though, she’ll hit Hackney’s vintage stores before having dinner with a friend: “Some semblance of a normal routine is increasingly important to me,” she says, noting down some of my recommendations.)

Stel, too, sounds remarkably calm about what happens once it is out of her hands. “When you release music, it goes where it’s meant to,” she says.

“Sometimes immediately people love it, sometimes it takes a long time, and sometimes people don’t love it. You have to be okay with that if you want to be true to yourself.

But this is truly a soundtrack to my life in a moment, and I hope it’s that for someone else too.”

Sophia Stel’s The Greatest Album Of All Time will be released via A24 on October 16