Interview and Concert Review: Twen — "Divine Messengers, Baby—Musicians"

Taylor Sheridan Lempke
5 minutes ago
5 min read

Courtesy of April Anderson @andrsn.photos

“But it’s all up to the state,” Jane Fitzsimmons sings and swings her arms as Ian Jones lifts members of the audience onto the stage. At Songbyrd Music House in Washington, D.C., the duo Twen performs “Tumbleweed” from their recent album Fate Euphoric for a sold-out crowd of 150 fans. They start the first night of the second part of their tour, looking effortlessly cool. Fitzsimmons jumps to the racing drums in an Adidas jacket, wide-legged washed jeans, a black grommet belt, and platform sandals. Jones, having already shed his leather jacket, strums his semi-hollow guitar in a tan indie-chic polo, baggy jeans, and leather shoes. They don’t need flashy outfits or choreography. Twen’s charisma fills the room. After “Tumbleweed” slows to the groovy “Bore U,” Jones offers his hand to help fans down from the stage.

“If you can dream it, you can do it,” Fitzsimmons says. “We don’t have a label. We don’t have management. This is possible because of you guys.” The singer waves the red wooden mallet that appears like a scepter on the Fate Euphoric album cover.

“Right now, it feels like fate. Why the fuck was I born fucking now?” Fitzsimmons shares, sitting next to Jones the night before they leave for tour. Twen’s Fate Euphoric guides fans through highs and lows. The album, released on November 4, 2025, revives ’60s psychedelia and mysticism and ’90s rock and societal critiques. Fitzsimmons’s magnetic vocals, Jones’s compelling riffs, the thumping rhythms, and the undeniably catchy yet deep lyrics invite fans to let their hair down and regulate their nervous systems. The tracks aren’t quite a punk-rock political call to action. Influenced by Rota Fortunae, they tell me this record is for emotional processing. “No matter where you are on the Wheel of Fate, it can be euphoric, because it’s all part of the same thing,” Jones says. “So even when times suck, and you’re going down on the wheel, it’s euphoric because you’ll swing back around.”

The duo pushes against the feeling of powerlessness. “The assault of news stories, loss of rights, plans, schemes, super PACs, and Project ’25. You feel so ‘Wow, the normal modes of hope, or you know, vote and do this, don’t really feel as quite potent as they used to,’” Fitzsimmons says. But trusting fate doesn’t mean giving up. It means believing that unethical leaders eventually fall, that good days are on the other side of bad times, and even when control feels out of reach, interior freedom remains. “We were trying to draw the link between the technocratic feudalism and the rich,” Jones says. “We’re stuck in this system of techno corporations and surveillance state, and how that links back to the Middle Ages, the medieval era, and the cyclical patterns of power.”

Rather than following the music industry’s standards, intuition guides Twen. Though Fate Euphoric dropped on Election Day, the timing wasn’t planned as a statement—November 4, 2025, aligned with the stars. Twen consulted an astrologer for the first time. Originally, Twen planned to release “Godlike” a month earlier than August 12. Fitzsimmons reenacts the story with the astrologer, leaning forward and shaking her head. “And she’s like that, don’t do that.” She praises the fact that they waited. “Godlike” was the fastest-growing single they ever released. As of February 2026, they garnered over 500,000 streams of the track on Spotify. “Godlike seems to have some sort of energy behind it, and that was the date she chose. I’m doing that again because it seems like you’re going on the path of least resistance.”

Since forming in 2016, Twen has relied on Human Design as another framework for alignment. “It’s a great prism to view not only your own gut feelings and your own energy with other people,” Jones says, “but also organizations and teamwork.” Fitzsimmons is a generator, someone who responds to opportunities and follows excitement, while Ian is a projector, someone who thrives in decision-making processes. Together, it’s a formula for a path of creativity and recognition.

Twen knew they wanted to dedicate their lives to music. From “Long Time” on their debut album Awestruck to “Fortune 500” on One Stop Shop, their songs encapsulate the trials, errors, and devotion found in pursuit. “There’s something so beautiful about being an artist in a band,” Jones says. “Your life and your artwork become a single column of air. It’s this Odyssey that you’re on. It’s just what we’re here to do, and we’re doing it as divine messengers, baby—musicians.”

Beyond their energy types, their creative backgrounds set them up for success. Fitzsimmons, a Boston University graphic design graduate, designs the band’s album covers, posters, and merch. Jones, a Berklee College of Music graduate with a major in music business, produces and mixes their records. Directing and editing music videos and booking their tours, they maintain a level of control unavailable to many artists.

“We have an idea of how everything should go in the entire world, you know, the entire Twen universe. We’re not looking for anyone else to fill in the blanks. We know how this shit is supposed to go. That’s what it means, and that’s what our band is about,” Jones says. But he resists the idea of Twen’s name being flattened into “a DIY band.” “It should not be a stamp of authenticity or approval. I think it’s because we have a vision for every aspect of our band. It’s a much more direct message from our heart and from our nervous system to your eardrums and your nervous system.”

Van life grants them the fortune of taking their home, the Twen universe, wherever they go. During the pandemic, Fitzsimmons and Jones began living in their converted Ram Promaster Van. “We both love driving. We sometimes even fight for the wheel, which is kind of weird, not typical,” Fitzsimmons says. Everything they need on tour is in the van, saving them the hassle of deciding what to pack away in a bag and giving them the freedom to make a cup of tea whenever they want. “We don’t let anyone else drive because it’s our house,” Fitzsimmons says. Jones calls back to earlier, “Because we’re DIY.”

Between driving from venue to venue, maintaining the van, and handling social media, touring leaves little downtime. New song ideas are limited to recording a voice memo. “Because what does DIY mean? Never enough time,” Jones says. Fitzsimmons imagines a tour bus, calling it “sweet,” but “all the struggle creates beauty in itself.”

“You need that friction. Maybe that’s the problem with the billionaire class. They don’t have friction,” Fitzsimmons says. “They want people to suck them off, and they make the AI talk like that to them. We have friction, and we’re grateful for it. It creates good things.”

The balance follows them from the beauty and friction in van life to the stage. Before shows, Fitzsimmons no longer hypes herself up with pre-workout or visits to the gym, not even caffeine. She enters the stage stone cold sober. Jones, by contrast, takes pre-workout and has a drink. “I want to go. I want to be flying,” he says. On stage, they create a visual harmony. Fitzsimmons swings the microphone around in a windmill motion, twists her hips, and bends her knees. Every move is fluid. Jones hoists his guitar up high, plays the Fender behind his head, and thrashes with intensity.

At the end of the night, Twen performs a cover of “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House. Fans turn on their phone flashlights and sway their arms to the beat. For a moment, the powerlessness on the news is an afterthought, and it feels like the crowd is at the top of the Wheel of Fate.

Written By Taylor Sheridan Lempke