In an age teetering precariously on the brink, where the skies darken with smoke from burning forests and oceans choke beneath plastic tides, the world watches: entranced by screens, while democracy’s foundations fracture beneath the jackboots of global authoritarianism. This relentless march toward catastrophe, propelled by unchecked greed and collective apathy, reveals society’s stark vulnerability. Protest songs emerge as defiant echoes, cries against a landscape blighted by environmental ruin and political oppression. They are anthems of resistance in a fractured world, confronting humanity’s complicity, calling out the monsters we’ve allowed to rise, and reminding us of the power to reclaim tomorrow.
Johnathan|Christian, the captivating transatlantic goth/post-punk duo, unveils a dystopian journey through the depths of emotional turmoil with their latest release, “Where Do We Go From Here.” This track masterfully intertwines haunting darkwave soundscapes with an increasingly palpable tension, creating an atmosphere of reluctant confrontation that resonates deeply.
Echoing the turbulent spirit of post-election anxiety, Where Do We Go From Here navigates the breakdown of idealism, charting a harrowing path from defiance to deep-seated disillusionment. The song, opening with a tender female vocal by Emy Smith, bristles with themes of manipulation, defiant resistance, and the exhausting psychic aftermath of continuous conflict. Embedded within this storm is a simmering, wounded pride, sharpened by anger and buoyed by the stubborn belief in eventual justice.
Sonically, the duo conjures influences reminiscent of Pink Turns Blue’s melancholy grandeur and Killing Joke’s rhythmic menace, sharpened by the edgy pop sensibilities of Muse and the genre-defying verve of Santigold.
The single’s video, taking inspiration from Maya Deren’s surrealist classic At Land, opens evocatively with a disoriented woman stranded upon a bleak shoreline. She becomes the grounding force and token for humanity amid chaotic imagery: scenes of political upheaval, stark snapshots of media censorship, relentless streams of news clips highlighting resistance movements, and stark commentary on the alienation wrought by social media. This juxtaposition crystallizes into a stark portrayal of late capitalism’s dystopian reality, a world rapidly losing its grip on authentic human connection.
Watch the video for Where Do We Go From Here below:
Listen to Where Do We Go From Here at the link below and order the single here.
Johnathan|Christian spoke with Post-Punk.com about their infliences, the creation of the video, and today’s volatile political climate.
“Where Do We Go From Here” deeply examines the psychological costs of silence and complicity. What initially drew you to explore these complex themes in your music?
Johnathan: After our last release, Resistance Mon Amie, which raised funds for The Trevor Project, I honestly felt like I’d said all I needed to say. I was considering walking away from our project. But then the 2024 election happened, and everything shifted. What really struck me wasn’t just those of us who opposed Trump’s reelection—it was the people who supported him and then publicly expressed regret. You’d see posts from folks losing jobs, losing healthcare, or watching loved ones deported after believing the narrative that this administration was only targeting the “bad immigrants.” That dissonance—the collective silence, the complicity, and the slow realization of consequences—was impossible to ignore. This song isn’t a lecture. It’s a mirror. It asks the same question from both sides.
The music video opens with imagery from Maya Deren’s 1944 surrealist film At Land. How did her vision influence the emotional tone you wanted to convey?
Johnathan: The Deren footage was a last-minute discovery, but it immediately resonated. Watching her crawl onto shore, dazed and disoriented, felt like the perfect visual metaphor for where we are right now—exhausted, destabilized, unsure what’s next. As the music builds, she rises—not in some triumphant way, but because she has to. That scene became a stand-in for bodily autonomy, for the erosion of rights, for the criminalization of medical choices—not just for women, but for doctors and even Uber drivers. “We still rise” isn’t a motivational tagline—it’s a survival instinct. And that same instinct applies to everyone trying to regain control in a world that keeps taking it away.
Xtian- Does identity evolve as the environment around us changes, or does it erode under pressure? That’s where Maya Deren’s At Land becomes essential. Her character is caught in shifting, surreal terrains, struggling to maintain a coherent sense of self. It’s a metaphor for how we all navigate disorientation—especially in times of political and social upheaval. There’s also a deliberate contrast between the phrases “we still remain” and “we still rise.” The former is descriptive—it implies endurance without transformation. The latter is aspirational—a choice to move forward, to resist, to reclaim identity in spite of chaos. That distinction is everything. Remaining is survival. Rising is rebellion.
In the video, poetic isolation gives way to stark documentary-style imagery—divided families, empty classrooms, flickering headlines. What guided your visual choices?
Johnathan: We wanted to show the full collapse—from the personal to the societal. The surreal opening is how it feels internally: lost, disoriented. But the documentary-style imagery reflects the external reality: institutions crumbling, lives destabilized, systems failing. That tension between what’s felt and what’s seen is the emotional core of the video.
The thumbnail references Apple’s iconic 1984 ad, itself a nod to Orwell’s dystopia. What’s the symbolism behind it?
Johnathan: That was 100% intentional. Illustrator Vlad McNeally really captured the spirit of mass media manipulation. These days, a lot of us have friends or family who’ve been completely consumed by far-right media narratives. They’re not thinking critically—they’re reacting, performing, repeating. That image reflects how easily people are programmed when fear is the default setting.
Xtian: In the Orwellian context, the video draws heavily on themes of historical revisionism and doublethink. When you layer that with the idea of complicity, you’re left with a deeply tangled, uncomfortable truth. The core narrative we’re exploring is whether identity is fixed, fluid, or ultimately distorted by external forces.
How does the song confront the impact of silence and complicity in today’s political climate?
Johnathan: Silence enables everything. It allows bad policies to fester and authoritarianism to take root. This song was about breaking that silence—not just in a performative way, but in a visceral, emotional sense. We wanted people to feel the weight of what’s been ignored or excused—and then decide whether they’re content to stay quiet.
You’ve often tackled external threats—like the Russian invasion in “Talkin’ Bout the Wolf.” Why the turn inward with this one?
Johnathan: Great question. With Talkin’ Bout the Wolf, we were calling out geopolitical aggression. But it started to feel hypocritical to look outward without acknowledging the rot within. You can’t critique fascism abroad if you’re ignoring the seeds of it at home. This song is us looking in the mirror—and daring others to do the same.
The contrast between surrealism and realism in the video is striking. Why blend these two cinematic languages?
Johnathan: Because we’re living in both at once. The surrealism reflects the psychological breakdown, the emotional whiplash. The realism grounds it in the world we can’t escape. One without the other would’ve felt incomplete.
Propaganda plays a subtle but critical role in your video. How does your music address the destructive power of misinformation?
Johnathan: Xtian and I were laser-focused on that point. The chorus is about being seduced—by media, by politicians, by whatever “truth” sounds most comforting at the time. But comfort can be a trap. Propaganda doesn’t just mislead—it isolates, and then exploits. That’s what we wanted to expose.
What role do you see goth and post-punk communities playing in resistance and antifascist messaging?
Johnathan: These scenes have always been about confronting darkness—whether internal or external. They’re built on questioning, on pushing back, on refusing to conform. I hope this track inspires people to speak out, act up, and demand more from those in power. As what some may refer to as an “elder goth” it’s heartbreaking to think we may live the rest of our lives under a hardline conservative SCOTUS—but now more than ever, resistance matters.
“We still remain” vs. “WE STILL RISE.” Was that balance between despair and hope intentional?
Johnathan: Absolutely. “We still remain” acknowledges the damage—the fatigue. But “WE STILL RISE” points toward action. Even if it’s grim, we needed to show that there’s a way forward. Otherwise, what’s the point?
What was your creative process for turning these political themes into a cohesive song?
Johnathan: Xtian and I have this writing rhythm where I’ll bring in a concept or skeleton of a lyric flow or ideas, and Xtian will distill them into something tight, poetic, and devastating. He wraps it up in a perfect little black box—haunted, but complete.
Xtian: Sometimes the lyrics inform the visuals. Sometimes it’s the other way around. But it’s always a dialogue. A process of reflection.
You had to pivot the project due to a serious hand injury. Did that shape the final outcome?
Johnathan: Oh yeah. I lost a knife fight with a chorizo sausage and a freshly sharpened Japanese carving knife. Severed a nerve, hit what they called a “mini artery”—which, yes, is apparently a real thing. I was 50–70% finished with a few more tracks, but playing was off the table. So we pivoted and decided to release this one as a standalone single, with remixes.
How did the remixes by The Joy Thieves and Stoneburner expand on the message of the original track?Johnathan: I’m honored to be part of The Joy Thieves collective. Lee Meadows—co-founder of World Goth Day—played bass on this, and Dan Mulligan joined on drums. Steven Archer’s Stoneburner remix adds grit and menace—more nihilistic, more aggressive. The Joy Thieves’ version brings a kind of twisted optimism. Same foundation. Different emotional lens.
What lasting impact do you hope this song and video will have?
Johnathan: We want people to make noise. Call your representatives. Email. Fax—if anyone still does that. And most importantly: vote. It’s unbelievable how many people sat out such a critical election. This moment doesn’t just affect us—it affects generations. If this song does anything, I hope it shakes someone out of their silence.
Do you plan to continue exploring these political and psychological themes in future work?
Johnathan: Hard to say. I thought I was done. But the world keeps giving us more to process, more to challenge. If it moves us again, we’ll respond.
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