SKYND was really happy to be at Tuska finally, it’s been on her list for quite some time now. Especially since she didn’t get to come last time she was on the line-up due to the pandemic shutting everything down. Performing at festivals offers a different kind of challenge for SKYND, who usually thrives in more curated environments where they can set the mood more. “It’s raw,” describing the stripped-down nature of festival shows, where she can’t set up elaborate visuals or props around the venue. “But it’s exciting. I can still tell the stories with my performance. It’s a different experience—and I like that. It’s a challenge.”

But it’s not just the theatrical presentation that makes SKYND stand out. It’s the bold decision to sing about real-life crimes, often from multiple perspectives. Some listeners find it confronting, others cathartic. She isn’t afraid to explore the psychology behind the crimes or to step inside the minds of perpetrators.

“No human being gets born evil. We all have a backpack. Some people don’t get a choice in what’s in theirs.”

For SKYND, storytelling through music is about understanding and remembrance, not sensationalism. She describes keeping a notebook of stories that interest her, waiting until one of them sparks a “creative fire” strong enough to be transformed into a song. One such case was Michelle Carter, whose experience resonated deeply with her due to the story’s overlap with issues of identity, bullying, and the isolating effects of internet culture.

“There are certain cases where I feel like I have to talk about it because it’s a topic people should listen to.”

While SKYND has cultivated a fiercely loyal fanbase, her “Skyndicate”, not everyone receives the music so kindly. Some critics accuse the band of being grotesque or exploitative. Her response is sharp:

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I’m doing my job really well.”

She isn’t deterred by criticism; rather, she believes in confronting the uncomfortable truths that society tends to sweep aside. Her music becomes a space for survivors, misfits, and trauma-bearers to feel seen.

“They feel like they have a place now to talk about it without getting judged. That was really important to me.”

Working independently allows her to fully control the narrative. She chooses to focus on one story at a time, rejecting the traditional album format out of a desire to avoid ranking one victim’s story over another’s. Instead, she views her work as a growing series of chapters, both musical and visual. Currently, she is working on a book that may one day mark the closing chapter of SKYND’s artistic journey, though even she isn’t sure where that path will lead.

Behind the music is also a long-time creative partner known as Father, who helps SKYND translate her vision into sound. She describes her process as “seeing the song,” visualizing scenes, colors, and emotions and then bringing them to life through music and video.

Ultimately, SKYND’s work is more than music. It’s advocacy. It’s ritual. It’s a mirror to the darkest parts of human nature, and a flashlight for those trying to make sense of it.

“We’re humans. We’re able to make a difference within ourselves.”

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