Described as ‘the best rock star you’ve probably never heard of’ (yet), Kristeen Young’s otherwordly art-pop is fevered and visceral. Her voice is so majestic and ethereal against the tumult of her piano, she’ll leave your nervous system and your heart in tatters (in a good way).

PS. Oh yeah, she’s worked with Bowie, Morrissey, Dave Grohl and Tony Visconti.

 

Where do you live?

Somewhere else.

Occupation: 

Caterwauler, piano basher, word wrangler.

What are you working on right now?

Preparing to shoot a live (like…really playing and singing) video this Sunday.

Do you have any odd creative rituals?

I don’t think so. I mean….how would I know if it’s odd? That would be for someone else to point out. Or I’d have to do a study on creative rituals which is what you are probably doing right now.

Describe your most inspiring working environment. 

Driving a car or taking a shower. So…a multitude of images flying past me or water pouring on my head.

What are you obsessed with?
Music, words, the music IN words, and sour candy that has the consistency of taffy or Spree or ideally both. The answer to most questions is “both”….if not all questions.

What’s on your bedside table?

A couple of Native dolls that people have given me……as my birth mother is Native (American)….which makes me half (I’m good at math).

What’s your idea of luxury?

SO MANY THINGS. Even the poorest people in our Western world are surrounded by luxury. Sometimes I can spend a good five minutes looking at the smallest item (like a Q-Tip or a pair of scissors) and see the human story, craft and brilliance in it and I fall in love. It momentarily becomes my child. But, I guess REAL luxury is being loved. Never mind race, gender, socio-economic level, even how physically attractive someone is…. the truly unprivileged person is the person who grows up without love.

 

Kristeen Young’s new album Live From The Witch’s Tit will be out later this year. In the meantime, follow her exploits here.

Kristeen Young, Tony Visconti, singer, pianist, Morrissey, David Bowie