Sarah Kinsley: “I Wanted to Write a Sort of Tribute to Youth”

Sarah Kinsley has the sort of music that can build you a whole world to escape to, even if it’s just for a song. Without needing any words at all to do so – although she does write beautiful lyrics –, the singer has a knack for creating music that deeply moves the listener, both emotionally and mentally. Through her melodies, the instruments she chooses, her voice, her production – all a succession of deliberate, well thought out choices that, yet, feel natural, organic –, she crafts pieces of artistry that are as full as they can be surprising. Listening to her feels like an immersion into a virtual, sonic universe.

The 20-year-old has two EPs to her name. The first one, The Fall, was released in 2020. Its younger and wiser sibling, The King, has come into this world on June 4th, 2021. On both projects, Kinsley is as much a singer as she is an instrumentalist, a songwriter, and a producer. She’s poured all that she is into them, bringing into play her classical background (she has played the piano and the violin since very early on), her love for 2000s pop music, her passion for music theory, and her latest producing learnings. “My entire life was just consumed by music, in the best possible way”, she says when describing her childhood. And it seems as if it is still the case.

A few days before the release of The King, Pop! Goes the Music had the chance to sit down with the New York-based artist over video chat. We covered it all in this rich conversation: her new record, the art of music production and the overrepresentation of men in the industry.

This is the second EP that you release. It’s titled The King, and it comes after The Fall… It feels like both titles could be connected, with one being a sequel to the other. Is that the case? Is there any common thread between both?

Sarah Kinsley: I think there absolutely is. I think it’s impossible as an artist to be able to fully separate yourself from your past or your past work. I don’t think it was a conscious decision to name them The Fall and The King, but I can definitely see a sort of cinematic storyline between the two, with, you know, the rise after the fall. I’m sure there’s a way I could twist it to make that work, but it wasn’t a really deliberate choice, but I’m glad that is catching on. (laughs)

The King, the song, comes with a music video. Is that right?

SK: Yeah, yeah, I’m really excited for people to see it. I’ve made a couple music videos before and I’m still starting out with it, but this one really just blows my mind watching it, even though I’ve seen it so many times now. And it was directed by one of my best friends, so it was incredible.

What was the idea?

SK: Well, the entire basis of The King is talking about what the greatest ideal representation of myself is, whether that’s on stage as an artist or as a person. So it was just about sort of roaming through the past, piecing together all these bits of life, and going through them to try and make sense of things. “What does all of this mean? And am I still the same person I was last year when that first EP came out? Or have I changed, and do I like the person that I’m becoming? Do I enjoy the body that I’m living in?”

So for the video we wanted to embody that sort of desire and that really, really deep wish or dream- or striving to perform, as the greatest part of myself, on stage. And so we shot at this beautiful venue in New York called The Slipper Room, and the whole video was just based around me performing and singing the song in different parts of the venue, while really solidifying the difference between who I am on stage and who I am off of it.

I just love the video! It’s a very beautiful and grand depiction of how the song makes me feel.

And why choose the word “king”? Why The King?

SK: I’m not sure. I wrote this song right before I turned 20 – which was about… less than a year ago –, and that phrase kept coming back to me: “I want to be the king.” I didn’t mean it in a way that was like “I want to rule people, I want to be a sovereign”, nothing like that. But I made this list of things that I wanted to do before entering a new decade. So… I was gonna go dancing in the rain barefoot, I was going to- I don’t know, confront my fear of death. I was going to write a poem. I was going to stay up all night and watch the sun rise. And then, the last thing on the list was to just write a sort of tribute to youth and this last decade, and what it means to leave it behind me. And that phrase just kept coming back. I don’t have a really strong definition for it, but I do think that it fully embodies the idea of, like, “this is the greatest thing in you”, or in all of us. It’s just the ultimate dream of who you want to become. 

Basically be the king of your own existence?

SK: Yeah, exactly. I mean, it was an odd thing because people have asked me: “Is there a difference between the specific wording of ‘king’ and ‘queen’, or ‘prince’?” And my name, Sarah, also means princess, which is really funny. But I don’t think it has something to do with the connotation of royalty or stance, or all of these things that are very big, and fake, and silly. It’s more so to do with what you’re saying: the fullest, deepest, greatest expression of oneself. Which is what I’m trying to accomplish, sort of, with that song and with the EP.

And to someone who doesn’t know your music at all, how would you describe the EP? How would you, like, pitch it?

SK: (laughs) I think… If it was like a stranger who had never listened to my music, my biggest dream would be that it comes across as full, and big, and raw. You know, it’s very personal and intimate. It’s almost as if we’re in a sort of a small room that can kind of transform into a concert hall or something. I really want the album to be a transformative experience, or something where you kind of go through each song with me. I think that’s the ultimate dream every time. You know, as I’ve been crafting the album and piecing it together myself, that’s what I’ve been going through. So my only hope would be that people who listen to it almost embark on a sort of journey, and go through the same kind of reflection or, I don’t know, feel like they’re traveling through the music with me.

It’s funny that you say that because, when I listened to all that you’ve released so far, the word that came to my mind – it’s in French – is “grandiose”. It feels dramatic, in a good way, and it’s like it creates a whole universe that surrounds you. I felt like I was just taken somewhere for a few minutes, and then I was back. But I actually haven’t moved at all, physically. Is it intended that way, production-wise?

SK: Thank you, that’s so- that’s really such a beautiful comment. It’s so meaningful to me to hear about how other people experience music because I’m just so fascinated by it. I think this is also why I do music and why I’m so in love with it, it’s because of that. Whatever I put in music or anyone puts into music, it has this really odd power to take people – who are completely still in their own worlds – somewhere. It’s such a crazy thing that we’re able to do that, it’s very humbling.

Sarah Kinsley (© Julia Khoroshilov)

The thing about production… is that once you dive into that world, it’s almost impossible to separate yourself from it. Whether you’re creating or reproducing that feeling of having something surround you, or producing something that is so raw and so small that it feels like the person is singing right in front of you, the two opposite ends of the spectrum – the biggest, widest, most full song you’ve ever heard versus the most intimate – that is all because of the tiny, tiny choices that producers make. It’s not overlooked, but it’s just a part of the process that is, I think, more hidden. And it’s so counterintuitive, because it’s math, it’s physics and it’s just sound. But the way that we interpret it and let it come into us, and our minds, and our bodies- it’s really, really cool.

You have a classical background. And at college, you’re studying music, the theory of it, and now you’re making music. How does it all come together?

SK: Oh, it’s completely interwoven. Everything. And I think the music degree is interesting. It’s the history of western music and anglo-american pop music so there’s a very specific lens to it, but it’s changed over the years, which is great. It has become much, much wider and expansive in terms of… not just studying Beethoven or Mozart or all “the greats”. But those worlds intersecting are really interesting because there’s this sort of written history of what people have been studying for the last 100 to 200 years. And then, there are these wild, wild changes when it comes to technology and production, and the ability to record music, even. All of that kind of culminates and comes together when I’m writing music because I feel like I’m taking part in this really old tradition that’s been passed down from people to people. Not necessarily like… Beethoven passing down the torch to me (laughs), that’s really pretentious. But I feel like all musicians are giving themselves up to this tradition that’s been trickling down for so many years. Even the theory of it, just studying the math in the music changes your mindset.

Does it take away from the magic of music? Or add to it?

SK: I mean, theory is just a language that people have used to discuss music and to analyze it. It’s not like I’m sitting at the keyboard going through the theory in my head, it’s not robotic in that sense. But it’s also not the highest standard nor the correct way to talk about music. Theory is just a language, and it’s just what some people have used. But I don’t think it takes away from the magic, I think it just proves to you why certain things are so satisfying. Like, I’m writing a song that uses this very specific chord, and when I was figuring it out on the guitar, I couldn’t understand why it made me feel a certain way. And that’s the magic there, where the theory proves why something happens, but it’s not the reason for it. It’s just proof of how it happens.

And speaking of creating music, there are still very very few women in the industry who are producers specifically. 2,6%, according to USC Annenberg, when examining 900 pop songs. As a person who does it all, do you understand why are women still more likely to go into singing than to go into producing?

SK: I mean, it’s hard to speak on behalf of other people, but I’m not sure if it’s women who are more likely to choose singing over production. I think it has something to do with how we recognize producers or how we discuss them… I don’t know. There’s a weird culture around producing. It’s pretty obvious to say that it’s a male-dominated field, and I think it’s to do with the sort of subtleties of discussion. Because no one’s ever come up to me and said to my face “you can’t produce music” or “you’re not as good”. No one says that. But it’s very subtle actions, and very subtle discourse and moments that occur that can be slightly terrifying or daunting or intimidating. 

I think it’s the same in many fields for women. You’re not necessarily told in this day and age “you can’t do it”, but it does feel like it’s not as much a possibility for you as a woman than if you were a man.

SK: Yeah, yeah. So many of the experiences that I’ve had – and in this case, with production –, I’ve had really annoying moments where I’ve had to, sort of, step up and understand after the fact that this or that was not an okay conversation or experience to have. But I can’t really even imagine what it must be like to be fully working in a studio or to be an engineer. I just think what speaks for itself, really, is the fact that almost every single producer that I’ve met, especially women, can attest that they’ve witnessed some kind of really odd experiences in their field. But I am a bit of an optimist so I do think that it’s changing quite a bit now. 

The industry is also very white. Did you have instances where you really felt that? Like we know it exists in numbers, but like with sexism, do you recall moments where you were like “oh, okay”?

SK: Yeah. I’ve had very odd experiences when I worked with other DJs or producers. I can remember one where I did a song – I was a vocalist on someone else’s song –, and one of the reviews that came in called my voice “Japanese-sounding” which was a really odd comment to get… just because it had nothing to do with the music. I don’t have any sort of issue when people talk about- I don’t know. Artists are very, very diverse and can have wide encompassing backgrounds. I just think it’s odd when people focus solely on things that artists can’t control, which is where they come from. Of course, identity is part of the music, but there wasn’t much to speak about there. What I do control is my music and the art, and that is my creation, it’s not so much something to do with my background. It does feel like “othering” or pointing out a difference that doesn’t even need to be spoken about. But that was just a very odd experience because it had nothing to do with my voice, and I am also not Japanese (chuckles). So that was very- that was interesting.

How did you react to it? Did you say something?

SK: I was very upset. I posted a bit about it and I tried to get the article taken down, but it did not happen… But it’s okay, I think. The song wasn’t huge, and I don’t think many people were reading that publication. It was just annoying to think that people would only see me as this one thing and sort of pigeonhole me into this perspective that is, first of all, not even accurate, and something that just has nothing to do with the music. It’s a very weird bias and yeah, it was an odd moment.

And how do you feel with all that’s been happening? Ever since the pandemic, people have been talking more than ever about BIPOCs. How have you been living that conversation as a musician?

SK: I think that, since the beginning of the pandemic, it’s not so much a sense of leading this sort of conversation, I think that people are just really, really honing in on uplifting artists. Not to say regardless of where they’re from, but with a deep, deep sort of eye for where people are coming from and their music. Everyone knows that artists – especially artists who experiment beyond the sort of mainstream industry of music – have been long overlooked, whether that’s artists of color or people who have been on these weird margins of music. But I think that people have much more attention now when it comes to listening to their stories through music, rather than just asking people what their experiences have been like. I think that the audiences and listeners, including myself, feel more devoted to wanting to hear those stories and listen to that music, and just support those artists because their art is what they can control. And their art is their full creation and the full embodiment of who they are as people. And so, it’s a refreshing process to watch that happen.

The King by Sarah Kinsley / Everybody’s Records Ltd

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