MYSLIE | INTERVIEW + TRACK REVIEW

Some artists spend years trying to perfect a polished identity before releasing anything into the world. Myslie feels like the opposite of that. Built from isolation, experimentation, emotional obsession and an almost stubborn commitment to authenticity, the project exists somewhere between video game world-building, diary entries, karaoke confessionals and self-taught sonic exploration. What began as a necessity for a passion project slowly evolved into something much larger: a deeply personal creative universe where imperfections are embraced, atmosphere matters as much as technical precision, and emotion always comes first. In this conversation with Lucid News, Myslie and collaborator Keira open up about self-teaching, vulnerability, artistic isolation, collaboration, emotional intensity, and the strange freedom that comes from creating without fully knowing what the final outcome will become.

TRACK REVIEW - Double Stepper

“Double Stepper” opens with this heavy sense of anticipation, immediately pulling you into its futuristic hip hop atmosphere before the drums slam in and completely take control of the room. The production feels restless and immersive, balancing sharp rhythmic intensity with this hazy emotional undercurrent that keeps building as the track unfolds. It’s the kind of song that demands your attention early, strap in and let it take you somewhere. Then Keira’s vocals arrive, soft, raspy and almost radio-filtered, floating over the instrumental in a way that feels intimate but slightly distant at the same time.

What really makes the track stick though is the emotional push-and-pull between the performances. The duet dynamic gives Double Stepper this feeling of emotional exhaustion and repetition, like reliving the same cycle with someone over and over until you finally reach the point of wanting out. There’s a real chemistry between the voices that keeps the tension alive throughout the entire song. And then come the breakdowns, layered with intricate melodies and subtle shifts that elevate the track far beyond a simple moody rap song. Myslie manages to fuse emotional vulnerability with cinematic production in a way that feels massive without losing its humanity. Double Stepper doesn’t just sound good, it genuinely feels like the beginning of a fully realised artistic world unfolding in real time.

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A lot of independent artists become self-sufficient out of necessity. At what point did doing everything yourself become part of your identity rather than just survival?

The art of creation, for me, is a really messy prospect. When I started making Double Stepper and then later Under Rental Lights, I knew I was going to make everything by myself, with the exception of Keira. So getting to the point where I could make my own music, listen back to it, and feel proud of it was a long and arduous task.

For me, the translation from headspace to pen and paper is never one-to-one. It’s never quite the sound playing back in my head. I found out that if I kept with it, I would eventually be happy with what I was working on. Even when the ideas didn’t sound correct to me at first, sculpting those ideas into the final product became something I was proud of. It’s almost never one-to-one from what’s in my head to what’s in the DAW. So I don’t think I can necessarily call the musicianship part of the experience survival. It was more about coming to terms with how I manifest musical ideas into reality, and finding the process that works for me. 

Promotion was not at the front of my mind when I first released “Double Stepper.” I was really just going around sending it to people I knew. It wasn’t until the EP that I started really thinking about promoting my music as a part of the experience. When we went back in the booth for the EP, I still didn’t have much of a plan, but I wanted a better method of promotion since it would be hard to keep sending random people my music through text. I landed on the idea of printing business cards with a QR code on the back for all the music links. I knew it needed to be eye-catching to even get people to listen, so I sat down and brainstormed. Eventually, I came up with the idea of the card looking like a cassette tape, with the EP name and track names on it as a fun image that was consistent with the retro vibe I was going for.

Eventually, I started learning about how to build a brand and get people to see your creations, and I realized there was so much marketing that went into making music. I am not formally trained in the art of advertisement, but I do enjoy creating, that much I knew. It wasn’t a conscious choice, but I knew I wouldn’t enjoy promotion if I didn’t make it something I enjoyed. It had to be something I could look back at and smile at because I liked what I made. That’s why a lot of my videos are edits of video games that I enjoy.

Everything sort of came full circle when I realized, well, if I’m doing everything, I might as well have a good time with it. That’s why my music sounds the way it does. It’s why I don’t let things sound perfect in the beginning, as long as there is a good foundation. It’s why I play through video games I enjoy to gather footage for edits I make for my music, and why my lyric videos on YouTube are the way they are. I found a way to make the parts that I would usually find tedious no longer annoying to me because I get to make things as I see fit. So I think it became my identity when I let the parts that would normally be tedious become fun.

You composed the music and directed Keira during the vocal process. What did guiding someone else’s performance teach you about your own voice?

Tracks I made before the Under Rental Lights EP and “Double Stepper” were songs that didn’t have lyrics, with the exception of “Tupperware.” “Tupperware” is interesting because it was a very quick song to write lyrics for. The lyrics weren’t the focus so much as they were a mood setter for the rest of the song. Think Chet Baker’s “I Fall in Love Too Easily.” He sings in the beginning to set the mood, and then he lets his trumpet do the rest of the work. Other than that, I wasn’t really making music with lyrics.

My initial purpose for “Double Stepper” was for it to be an emotional climax in the video game, but the idea was not to let it be too polished. I wanted it to sound like two people singing into a karaoke machine, having fun, and expressing emotion more than chasing a polished sound. So in the booth, we were just enjoying the process. I don’t let sessions get too heavy. I’m just trying to have a good time.

So when I came to Keira for a new song, her solo track “2 AM Confessionals,” I knew I had to meet her where she stood. I spent a lot of time listening to her voice, and then listening to songs that could fit her tone. That’s how I make music: I listen to a lot of music that I’m trying to create, and then I translate what comes out of my head. Eventually, I fell on this soft, PinkPantheress-meets-old-Clairo vibe. Writing about this now just made me realize consciously that I can make songs to fit that vibe, but me singing on it wouldn’t be optimal. I pride myself on having a very punk rock / emo sort of voice, and my music, at least in that song, doesn’t follow a sound that lets that voice fit in a satisfying way. So I let the spotlight hit her for songs that have a more airy texture.

Just because I can doesn’t mean I should was the lesson I learned.

When you’re making something personal, how do you know when to explain it, and when to leave space for the listener to meet it halfway?

I tend to get embarrassed if I’m too forward with my lyrics, which is why I drape everything in metaphor, or I sort of let the lyrics beat around the bush a little bit. I understand it can be a bit confusing for listeners if they hear a song that is circling and circling around something, so I try to find one lyrical hook that lets the audience finally pick up the pieces. I don’t have an equation for that, honestly. In practice, I usually don’t make my lyrics become too polished anyway. I let them fall where they stand, and I just change words to make them flow better.

There’s a difference between being independent and being isolated. How do you protect your creativity from becoming too closed off?

It kind of started as a very isolated experience. I was making music for Walker of the Sunset Path, my video game, and those first few years trying to make beats were the most isolated experience I’ve had with creating art. Nothing was good enough to share. I hadn’t found my sound. It was just me, the monitor, and that clunky, half-dead computer I made the EP on. The people I would show my music to were not musicians or artists, and that’s no disrespect, but it felt like I was on my own island because I was looking for criticism beyond “it sounds good.” I wanted to understand how I was applying ideas of music theory in my work because I was self-taught. Still, I wanted to create, so I kept creating.

A funny thing happened when the music shifted to having lyrics. Now, not all songs in the game will have lyrics, but for important parts of the game, it was a necessity, as I’ve mentioned. Around the time I knew I wanted lyrics, I would tell my friends, my coworkers, and the like. Those friends and coworkers gave me their mics. (Thank you!) That was such a kind gesture, and it started to shift my thoughts on art because they believed in my ability enough to hand me equipment, and might I add, really, really nice equipment.

Then having someone in the booth with me, fighting through this song we were committed to making, was another step out of that feeling of isolation. The game’s scene demanded a lighter tone for its singing, so it wasn’t a serious, J.K. Simmons “not my tempo” experience where the fun of creating music becomes this fight to find the perfect voicings. It was just a fun time singing silly little songs.

Maybe a month after my first release, I sang my song “Double Stepper” at my friend’s sister’s wedding. To this day, that is the highest honor I’ve had as a performer, and that was another nudge in the direction of seeing art as more than just something isolating. I was touching hearts with something I put my blood, sweat, and tears into, and I was able to do it live right in front of them. I had my eyes shut the whole time because I was so nervous, but the compliments after, and the bottle of Pinaq they gave me afterward, are a testament to my performance.

I started to realize it wasn’t isolating, because you put your heart into something, you show people, and they respect it, you know? The act of creation can be isolating, especially when it’s just me and the computer. But sharing not just the song, but the experience, and understanding that people trust the artist behind the work with equipment and time on stage to give that song to people, made me realize it was never isolating. If anything, it was liberating.

Has creating under the Myslie name allowed you to express parts of yourself that you never would have?

I think music creation was less about the allowance of expression, and more about the ability to express my story in my way. Before making music, I was doing some hobby-level DJ stuff with my mixing partner. Before that, I would sing my heart out in karaoke bars, which is why I think I have an affinity for those sorts of aesthetics. DJing led me to appreciate electronic music, since I was listening to our playlist to get the vibe of it and move songs around that were compatible. Mind you, this was before Spotify mixing, so I was training my ears just listening to the tracks. Karaoke was an expression of emotion and headspace for me at the time, which is why I think a lot of my friends would mention very spirited performances, because I was singing from the heart most of the time.

I say all of that because creating under Myslie was a way to express myself under some bizarre circumstances. I used to have someone compose for me, but complications arose, and I had to drop him from the production. I was expressing my grievances one night to one of my voice actors because I wasn’t sure how to move forward without the composer. She told me, “Just do the music.” Really, that was the push I needed to start this entire journey. So through that chance encounter, I picked up my pieces, turned to Ableton for the first time in years, and taught myself how to make music.

Then, while I was working on the script, I realized I wanted the character to sing for the main character, probably a given considering my past. But looking back at it now, especially after considering this question, it makes sense. Myslie allowed me to express parts of myself because I was forced into the role of becoming an artist under the name Myslie for a video game passion project. If I didn’t have to terminate the old composer, I probably would have gone with his music in the game.

What usually arrives first in your process: emotion, imagery, rhythm, or the need to prove something to yourself?

It really depends on context for me. Emotion is always a big part of the creation. I think usually that’s what it comes down to, especially for the EP. That was being created at a very emotionally potent time in my life. I think the lyrics flow easier when the emotions are strong enough.

During that time I was writing music like my life depended on it. I was losing sleep over production, borderline obsessing over the project. I really felt like the feeling and the flow I had while creating the instrumentals and lyrics came from being worried that the emotions would pass and I wouldn’t be able to capture that same essence. To me, cooking in that emotional state felt like lightning in a bottle. I was holding desperately onto that inspiration while I still could, before that potency passed.

If someone only heard the polished final version of your work, what part of the real story behind it would they never see?

I specifically abstracted a lot of details because I get a little embarrassed if the lyrics are too direct. I’m still a little hesitant to answer this question now that you’re asking. What I will say is, if you look far enough into the way I wrote the EP as a whole, you as the audience would understand the entire story behind it. The perspective changes from song to song.

Do you think being underestimated has helped shape the artist you’ve become?

Since I’m still starting out, nobody has fully decided what Myslie is supposed to be yet. By that logic, I can do what I want with the name. I had a conversation with my coworker once about an edit I was making for “Tupperware,” the Super Mario Galaxy edit. I told him I was proud of it because the philosophy behind it was giving people a chance to relax, take in the atmosphere, and enjoy a piece of art. The song’s intro was perfect for this sort of atmospheric montage, but it had to be a slow-burn video. The song demanded it. So when creating the edit, I knew it was going to be an uphill battle because I am an unknown artist, and I’m going against what the social media algorithm seems to favor: fast, instant-gratification content.

I think being underestimated gave me permission to make that choice. If people do not already know what Myslie is supposed to be, then I can let the work speak for itself. The audience can sit with it, watch it, and try to understand the message on their own terms rather than me jamming it down their throat.

Keira, stepping into a track where Myslie had already built the musical world, how did you find the parts that could only come from you?

I think the best collaborations happen when you’re not trying to compete with what is already there. Myslie had already created a strong atmosphere and emotional direction with the ep, and explained his concept well enough to me so that when I joined in, instead of trying to change anything, I tailored my voice to go along with it. I tried different keys and tempos that would suit my voice better, but still kept in mind the energy and tone of the project. I stopped overthinking and tried to just connect to the feeling of the track, so I felt the parts that were mine came pretty naturally.

Keira, because this was a first-time creative process for both of you in this format, what moment made you realise the collaboration was becoming something real rather than experimental?

I think it stopped feeling experimental once we both became fully invested in the emotion of the song instead of just the process of making it. Early on, we were still figuring each other out creatively, testing ideas, seeing what worked and what didn’t, but there was a point where a section came together and it genuinely felt like the song had its own identity. I remember hearing our styles blend in a way that didn’t sound separate anymore. It sounded intentional, like we were telling the same story from two different perspectives. That’s when it became real to me.