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My music is a celebration of all that is imperfect.

 

Most often, music is a symptom of my awe—whether it be in wisdom, beauty, or human experience. If music serves as an application of force; I choose to apply it toward delight and wonder. 

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I see my music as grains and fragments sewn together, a collage that develops and unfolds organically. I want to sit beside something really old and listen for a while. I want to collect a million songs. I want my music to be intimate—like you could be sitting next to me on the living room floor. Like you're holding my hand. I want to play—in a defiant and radical way. 

 

I am learning to be unapologetic and loud about what I believe: that despite our suffering, the world is still beautiful. My music comes from this place of “despite.” It is often the invitation to smile, or a celebration. A professor once told me I like to write the antidote—I think this is true.

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Ultimately, my music is a gift to the humans and more-than-humans who have shown me kindness. I’m sending it back your way.

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 —Nicole, 2023

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