Premiere: Benni – Coma, Stripped Back to the First Feeling

“The EP is made up of seven tracks, all tied together by the highs and lows of an intense love story.” It’s a sentence that opens a door — and listening to Bleeding Colours, you feel exactly that. These songs don’t accompany your day like background noise; they ask for your full attention. They pull you into a space where emotions swell without apology, where nothing is rushed or held back. It’s not an EP for every hour — but for those quiet moments when you’re willing to feel deeply.

Originally from Belgium, Benni set off alone to New Zealand at just 18. That distance — literal and emotional — unlocked something in her. “I had never even taken the bus alone before,” she says. “But something clicked. I picked up a guitar and started singing.” That same quiet courage can be felt throughout her debut EP — and also in Coma (Stripped Version), a song she returns to in its most vulnerable form, which we’re sharing with you today on C-Heads.

In this interview, Benni opens up about letting go of perfection, making peace with her inner voices, the ever-shifting idea of home, and why being afraid is no reason not to keep going.

photography by Simon Vanrie

Benni, I’m just listening to your album Bleeding Colours right now, and I already love it from the very start. It’s atmospheric, deep, and already the first song, “Make Me Blind,” is wonderful. You said it took years to work on the album. What was the moment you knew it was finished and ready to see the world?

It was a slow-burning process. There was a lot of trial and error. I re-recorded some songs, tried different approaches. I wanted everything to be perfect. I had lived inside these songs for so long, I just needed to get out. In the end, I realized that perfection doesn’t exist. What mattered was that the songs reflected something true, that they felt aligned with how I imagined the notes dancing. Once I accepted that, I knew it was time to let them go.

You just released an acoustic version of “Coma.” There’s something raw about it… Do you feel more exposed when the production falls away?

Absolutely. There’s no place to hide. It’s more vulnerable, and I actually like that it feels a little uncomfortable.

What inspired you to go back and revisit “Coma” in a simpler, acoustic version?

At the very beginning, Coma was meant to be a ballad. Then my producer, Thomas Medard, had the great idea to transform it into something more upbeat, which was new territory for me and opened up new perspectives. But with the acoustic version, I wanted to return to that original ballad: the raw, dark emotion, the vulnerability that can sometimes get lost under layers.

“Once I accepted that perfection doesn’t exist, I knew it was time to let the songs go.”

What do you hope people feel when they hear this version of the song?

It’s not always easy to predict what people will feel. What if they don’t like it? What if they don’t understand it? Selfishly, I write these songs first for myself. They’re my first aid kit, my therapy, my painkiller. I pour everything out when I need to, and that vulnerability can be scary. I’ve learned that not everyone will love every song, and that’s okay. What I really hope is that the people who do connect with it feel comforted, that they know they’re not alone.

In “All The Friends In My Head,” you touch on loneliness and overthinking. I can totally relate to this! What helps you find peace with those inner voices today?

Honestly, it’s something I’m still learning. What I’ve noticed helps me, even if it’s not revolutionary, is simply talking about it instead of keeping it all inside. It’s easy to drown when you’re alone, but when there are people aware and looking out for you, it gives you a little more space to breathe. I also like going on walks (fresh air really helps clear my head).

Let’s talk about the EP title. The word “bleeding” suggests pain, while “colours” feels soft and expressive. Was that contrast intentional?

Yes, very much so. The EP is made up of seven tracks, all tied together by the highs and lows of an intense love story. I see colours everywhere: in letters, numbers, music notes, smells, and emotions. So, for me, this EP is filled with colours. Each note, each feeling, each song has its own distinct shade. It was a way to transform something sad into something more colourful. I also like to think of it as emotional saturation, feeling everything at once.

“Selfishly, I write these songs first for myself. They’re my first aid kit, my therapy, my painkiller.”

What’s a little behind-the-scenes detail from making the EP that people might not know?

About Make Me Blind specifically. I wrote this song thinking it was a true romantic love song. In fact, I even sang it at a wedding. But later, I realized that, for me, it was really about a blinding love so strong that it becomes dangerous. I like that the song can be interpreted in different ways, depending on how you listen.

You’ve said your time in New Zealand was a turning point. What did being so far away from home at 18 unlock in you—as a person and as an artist?

I left home at 18, having never taken the bus alone, let alone done much by myself. I went to New Zealand thinking I’d be an au pair and maybe pick kiwis on a farm. But in my first days there, I saw an old, charismatic man playing music on the street, and something clicked. I thought, “This is a new beginning. You should try things that scare you and get out of your comfort zone.” So I did. I picked up a guitar and started singing. That adventure taught me that life can be kind and beautiful if you give it a chance, and more importantly, if you take a chance on yourself.

“Life can be kind and beautiful if you give it a chance — and more importantly, if you take a chance on yourself.”

How has your idea of “home” changed since those travels? And do you feel rooted in Belgium now, or still a bit in motion?

I think I understood that my home is more of a feeling than it is a place now. Of course, I love it here, it’s where my family is, but I’m still rooting for adventures. I carry home with me now.

Where do you feel most honest—on a long walk alone, in the studio at midnight, or under stage lights?

I think I’d choose a long walk alone. It’s the time when I can really reflect on myself and my thoughts. Walking quietly lets me process everything, it’s like a form of meditation. I think about life, my feelings, and where I’m headed. That solitude may be a bit harsh sometimes, but it helps me be the most honest with myself.

And lastly: What’s the most important thing in life, for you?

It might sound cliché, but for me the truest thing is being happy, and having people to share that happiness with. Being afraid, but still going on adventures, whatever they may be. I think the most important thing in life is simply… living it. (smiles)