Just three months after My Body Is My Sickness premiered with its blood-red rain and noise-drenched catharsis, Chicago-based noise rock / alt rock duo Latter return with Hope You Love Her, a follow-up to their viral track I Don’t Owe You. Out June 13, the new single revisits the same relationship from I Don’t Owe You — only now from a distance, and with the bitter clarity that comes from living through it.
Meredith, the band’s frontwoman, describes Hope You Love Her as a final word. “This is probably the last song I will ever write about this person,” she reflects.
The track, triggered by a video of her ex appearing content in a new relationship, is less about jealousy and more about cycles — how people repeat patterns unless they choose to break them. That sense of repetition, and resignation, drives the emotional core of the song.
Coming back to music in her thirties marked a shift not only in Meredith’s personal life but in how she approaches creation. Returning to the stage in April 2024 after years away, Latter’s resurrection wasn’t just about playing again — it was about feeling something again. “When I was younger I was kind of a jerk,” she admits. “I refuse to treat people that way now… my success should never come at the expense of other people or my own sanity.”
Latter’s work is less about genre and more about atmosphere. Hope You Love Her doesn’t lean into any single style — instead, it layers screamo, noise, and violin into something equal parts dissonant and deliberate. “We weren’t really thinking of any specific genre… the focus was the atmosphere and feel.” That ambiguity fits a project Meredith sometimes hesitates to even call a band. “I like to think of Latter as an art project,” she says, one that can incorporate sound design, theatrical performance, and physical ritual without being boxed in.
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The video for Hope You Love Her features choreography rooted in Meredith’s background in dance — including a rain-drenched scene where red hair dye bleeds down her face. “The red dye was actually a big problem… I decided to just lean into it, and it actually worked out really well,” she recalls. It’s not just aesthetic — it’s emblematic of Latter’s approach: embrace what bleeds.
That performance element — Meredith has been known to cut herself out of a hospital gown with a saw on stage — walks a line between confrontation and routine. Lately, she says, the act “is getting a little stale,” suggesting change may be on the horizon. Still, every show remains personal. “I am much more open about the specific details of my story with my close circles,” she says. “I keep a lot private when it comes to Latter to protect myself and the people I work with.”
If there’s a single thread that ties Latter’s music and message together, it’s truth — raw, noisy, sometimes painful, always intentional. “Usually when I am writing lyrics… it feels like I am finally breathing truth to my experience.” Hope You Love Her doesn’t hold back, nor does it want to. “Never,” she says when asked if there was ever a version that softened the blow. “All of our music is very confrontational.”
In the full interview below, Meredith digs deeper into the emotional aftermath behind the new single, dance as catharsis, the limits of genre, why she nearly quit music, and how growing older changed her entire approach to art and performance.
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You’ve said this new single picks up where “I Don’t Owe You” left off — but from years later. I’m curious, was it more like reopening a wound or finally closing the chapter?
It honestly to me felt like I was closing a chapter. I think this is probably the last song I will ever write about this person and this kind of felt like a final hurrah in ways for my emotions over that relationship.
There’s something almost cinematic in how you layer memory and grief — was there a specific image or moment that triggered “Hope You Love Her” to exist?
The song stemmed from seeing a video online of my ex partner with a new person. They looked happy the way they looked happy when we were together and I couldn’t help but feel angry. But at the end of the day I realized that this person is stuck in an emotional prison of their own making and they are bound to repeat the same pattern with this person, ultimately just repeating the cycle over and over again unless he decides to make a change.
The way you tie permanence of trauma with personal growth — was that clarity something you discovered through writing the track, or did it live with you before the music?
I think for me coming back to music after that relationship was monumental. it was kind of the catalyst for a lot of personal and artistic growth for me. So in a way they are inextricably tied.
That line — “God’s calling / she wants the devil back” — hits like a sermon. Do lines like that arrive fully formed, or do they come out of you in fragments and puzzles?
I think most of the time the really powerful lines just come to me, almost like they’re coming from something outside of myself. I think the lines that carry the songs usually arrive pretty quickly and then I build out the rest like puzzles – editing until I feel good about it.
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You’ve mentioned the choreography in the video draws on your dance background. I’m wondering how movement helps you process emotion differently than music — or maybe they’re just different limbs of the same beast?
I kind of see music and dance the same – in a way playing music IS just dancing but with much smaller movements (your fingers on the fretboard etc).
In some ways dance can feel even more cathartic at times because the movements I am doing with my body are bigger.
That rain scene — with the red dye running down your face — feels like a visual gut punch. Did you storyboard the video with a clear narrative, or was it more about letting the body speak what the mind can’t?
I knew I wanted a dance scene in the rain. The red dye was actually a big problem I was figuring out how to solve. Red hair is known to bleed everywhere when it gets wet. I originally thought of wearing a wig or washing my hair enough to the point where it would stop bleeding. I actually put my head under running water for like an hour a day for days leading up to the video shoot and it would still bleed so I decided to just lean into it, and it actually worked out really well!
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The way you blend noise, post hardcore, and violin feels raw but deliberate. Do you think genre is still a useful lens, or are we all just scavenging textures at this point?
We weren’t really thinking of any specific genre for this song, it felt a lot more like the focus was the atmosphere and feel of the song.
There’s a quiet violence in your music — sonically and emotionally. Is there a difference between what you’re willing to scream on stage and what you’d say in a quiet room? Definitely!
I am much more open about the specific details of my story with my close circles – I keep a lot private when it comes to Latter to protect myself and the people I work with.
You walked away from music once. Do you remember the moment you knew you were coming back — not just to jam, but to feel again?
It was last year in April 2024 when Latter played our first show. I knew this time would be different and it felt incredible.
Has returning to music at 32 changed what you demand from it — or what you refuse to tolerate in the process?
I think I have grown a lot as a person which has changed my relationship to my music career. When I was younger I was kind of a jerk and I was really willing to do whatever it took to get to the top – even if that meant climbing over other people. I refuse to treat people that way now and I know that my success should never come at the expense of other people or my own sanity.
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You’ve built something that’s part band, part performance art, part exorcism. Do you still think of Latter as a band, or does that label feel like a cage?
Sometimes it does. I like to think of Latter as an art project because I think it opens up the possibilities for us to do whatever we want.
Those DIY sound devices you use — like the oscillator with photoresistors — they feel like relics from another world. Are they instruments, artifacts, or just desperate inventions?
I think they are all 3!
You perform in a hospital gown and cut yourself out of it with a saw. Has the shock factor ever started to feel expected — like the performance has become routine — or is it still personal every night?
It’s funny you say that because I have been feeling recently like it is getting a little stale. Probably sooner rather than later I am going to change it up!
Being in Chicago now but originally coming from Philly — how do those two DIY scenes compare for you? Anything you miss about one that the other just doesn’t have?
I think the Philly scene has changed a lot so I can’t really speak for it now but I will say that back when I was involved in it, the scene felt very competitive and like it was run by a “cool kids club” that I just was never a part of. I think a lot of that was particularly because of the fact that everyone was moving to Philly for the music scene and the city just didn’t have the resources to keep up, so it felt very clique-y and competitive. The Chicago scene doesn’t feel like that at all. We are all friends and it feels a lot more communal. But from what I have heard, the Philly scene is much more communal now as well which is good to hear.
Who’s been impressing you in the Chicago underground lately?
Anyone you stumbled across in 2024-2025 that really lit something up in you? I really believe the Chicago music scene is the best in the USA. There are just so many good bands. Two that are pretty under the radar that I love are NUDE and Low Animal. Everyone should check them out!
There’s been this slow shift — especially in DIY — toward artists making painful things beautiful and theatrical, instead of hiding them. Do you think that’s healing, or does it sometimes feel like a trap?
I think it’s good. I’m pretty old for punk (35), and I think the younger generation is so much more in touch with their pain and anger. And I think its a good thing.
At what point in the process — writing, recording, performing — do you finally feel like you’ve gotten something out of your system, or does it never quite leave?
Usually when I am writing lyrics. When I get a really good line out, it feels like I am finally breathing truth to my experience and that feels really healing
“Hope You Love Her” isn’t subtle — it feels like a body speaking truth after years of silence. Was there ever a version of the song that tried to soften the blow?
Never, all of our music is very confrontational.
Touring can be both a distraction and a magnifier. Are you the kind of person who feels more alive on the road, or does it tear you open in ways that writing doesn’t?
I absolutely love touring, my favorite part of playing music is being able to perform live and connect with other people. So being able to do that every night feels like such a blessing.
You’ve been called “genre-defying,” but I’m curious — if you had to invent a genre for Latter that actually fits, what would you call it?
I like to say noise rock because it feels open enough where we can kind of do whatever we want.
Lastly, if someone who hurt you deeply heard “Hope You Love Her,” what’s the one thing you hope they take from it — if anything at all?
I want him to know that the pain he caused me ended up being a gift, because it gave me a second chance at what I love most and for that I am grateful.
