Through their exploration of transformation and rebirth conveyed through an emotive and genre-defying musicality, King Isis is a defining performer in the modern indie punk scene. With the release of their new EP Sirenity on June 13, King Isis uses mythical metaphors of serpents and sirens to exude themes surrounding growth, catharsis and undying renewal.
Following her two previous EPs, scales (2023) and shed (2024), Sirenity continues to expand on King Isis’ magnetic artistry as she weaves together influences of grunge, punk and alternative rock. Carving for herself her own unique space in the modern rock scene as a queer Black singer-songwriter, King Isis is defying both sonic and societal boundaries.
With a background in classical music and a deep family history in music making, the Oakland, California native is unapologetic in both their vulnerable lyricism and ability to incorporate both soft and hard-hitting elements into their artistry. As easy as a snake sheds her skin, King Isis is able to sonically and visually transform when the music calls them to do so. As they flawlessly balance both grit and soul in their artistry, Sirenity portrays King Isis expressing rebellious femininity with a playful yet cathartic approach, all while mastering a newfound confidence within their musicianship.
Following the release of Sirenity, King Isis sat down with Melodic Magazine to discuss musical growth, the male-dominated music industry and how rock music has always been a safe space.
I’m super excited to chat today! I really appreciate you taking the time. Obviously the new EP Sirenity just came out last Friday, but first I wanted to ask about your history with music. Your great-great-grandmother was one of Chicago’s first Black opera singers, and I was wondering how your family’s musical history impacted or influenced you in any way.
She was one of the first Black opera singers in Chicago, and I feel like she was just the matriarch in the family, and I wanted to honor her musical legacy. Her name was Omega King, so that’s part of why my artist name is King Isis. I was toying between Isis Omega and King Isis, and that one just felt a little better for some reason. It felt a little more personable, in a way. And my grandpa also played music. So there’s always been music in my family. My sister also makes music. And my mom, although she doesn’t play herself, has just really emphasized the importance of creating art and really loved music. She made me and my sister do lessons. I learned how to play piano on her piano. So my great-great-grandma is just very connected to my music, even though it’s completely different.
You had started with more of a classical music background, does that influence you in any way?
With the music that I’ve released up to date I can’t say that it necessarily has an influence, but with that classical and jazz training I feel like it opened my eyes to different sounds and different chords that maybe don’t necessarily work together all the time. I think knowing theory and stuff also made it easier for me to learn guitar and learn other instruments because I knew it really well on piano for a long time. But I don’t know if you can hear it in the music. I’m working on an album that’s going to come out way later, but I think you can hear the classical influence more on that than on anything I’ve released so far.
Sirenity just came out a few days ago, but how has the response been to it so far?
I think people have been liking it. I feel like it’s a little different from my previous EPs. I feel like there’s more variation in the sound, but I think people have been responding pretty well.
Is there a song off the EP that resonates with you the most right now or that stands out to you at this time?
You know, I think my favorite right now is “TEARS DON’T DRY (IN A RIVER).” I feel like it’s probably one of the most different compared to the rest of my music. And I like how gritty it is and how punk it is. I like the dirtiness of that song.
You have such a unique sound in your music; it combines a bunch of different genres and influences. Where do you pull the most inspiration from when it comes to songwriting?
I feel like I pull inspiration from other art forms, not necessarily music, all the time. Movies, books, people’s writings, conversations that I have and other music as well. But it’s not just music, it’s a bunch of other different art forms.
This new EP wraps up a trilogy of these other albums that you’ve had and they all have to do with mythological themes and imagery surrounding snakes or sirens. I was wondering, when it comes to these mythical figures or this imagery, how does it resonate with you? How did you interpret these images in your own music?
Definitely in scales and shed more so than Sirenity, but it’s heavily influenced by “Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza” by Gloria E. Anzaldúa and a couple excerpts in two chapters where she talks about deviant femininity and uses the serpent as a symbol of that and of subversive identities and embracing that. So scales was the beginning, shed was releasing and then Sirenity is the completion and being okay with everything from both parts of yourself. Sirenity I feel like is the most different, but it still reaches those places that were accessed in the other EPs while also exploring different relationships with other collaborators and also finding myself my own voice too. That’s why it’s called Sirenity and spelled wrong, because I wanted to still tie into that, but also it is kind of a variation on it and opening up the world to other music and other collaborations and finding my own voice in a different way.
Keeping in mind this idea of transformation and growth, what did you learn about yourself throughout the making of Sirenity?
I think that I started to feel more confident in my voice as a producer. I definitely feel a lot of imposter syndrome in music spaces. Yes, I have my great-great-grandma and my granddad was a jazz musician, but my immediate family was not in music in any way. So I didn’t really have those connections. And growing up I was always feeling very shy and insecure about speaking. So I feel with the making of Sirenity I was able to discover my voice a little more and get a little bit more confidence in the room and be able to say what I want and learn that I do know what I want and I know how to say it. I just need to say it.
What is it that ultimately propelled you to speak up more and find your confidence as a producer?
I think just being in a bunch of situations where my voice isn’t heard or allowing things to happen in a bunch of different contexts that I don’t actually want to happen, and just letting it happen and being silent and not saying shit, which then in turn actually harms me more. So doing that over and over and over again I was like, “Okay, I can’t keep doing this,” because it’s not sustainable for my mental health or my physical health.
Would you say that Sirenity wraps up the story that was told through this trilogy of albums, or do you think there’s still more to be said?
I think it wraps up this part of it, but I feel like growth, transformation and renewal is always constant, but it’s just different variations. So I would say it does kind of complete the story but also doesn’t, because I feel like the music I have been working on beyond this too also talks about it but in different ways. It’s more just finding that I feel like I can produce my own shit and do all this stuff, but then there’s other challenges that come with that.
Is there anything musically or lyrically that you’d want to experiment with in the future that you haven’t yet?
Something that I feel like lyrically that I’ve tried to do a little bit on Sirenity and that I’m working on with more music is to explore being more frank in my lyrics instead of hiding behind pretty metaphors. I admire when artists just really spell it out for you sometimes. I want to work on that more because I feel like it’s easier for me personally to have the metaphor and not say things out loud, and that’s something that I do beyond my music sometimes. And then musically or instrumentally, I guess I’ve been trying to incorporate piano more and go back to those roots.
In your music you have this very prominent message of providing a platform or making music for those who have felt like they haven’t belonged or haven’t felt accepted. How has music made you feel safe, accepted or seen?
I feel like for me, music has always been a safe space. And I feel like growing up when I felt like I can’t say something or when I felt there were parts of myself I had to hide, music was there. Art in general, but specifically music was there when I couldn’t be there for myself or other people weren’t there for me. So it has always been a safe space. When I can’t speak for myself or when I feel unseen, unheard, disrespected or like my identity is not respected, I guess music is there when I’m not there for myself, when other people aren’t there for me.
Going off of that, as a queer musician and as a Black musician, how has your experience been pursuing alternative music? Especially considering, historically, rock music is often a white male-dominated space.
That’s always been my favorite type of music, and even though it is a historically Black genre, the people that I grew up listening to were not Black. The people that play at Warped Tour, that are playing rock music, they’re all white. So even though I’ve always been connected to this type of music, for people who look like me, we’re not in the scene. And growing up you do like to see people who look like you. It’s hard for two reasons — for both being queer and being a Black woman specifically. I feel like there’s a big Black alt scene now, but it is still pretty heavily male-dominated, which also creates challenges for people who look like women or women in those scenes. Because a lot of the time people still objectify you and see you as an object or as a body versus your talent or creativity. So it’s that, and then also my queerness, it comes second also, and people don’t think I’m queer. And then just being Black and making alt music, because it’s such a white-dominated genre people just categorize my music as R&B, which doesn’t really make sense. So I would say those are some challenges both from the inside and the outside. But I think it’s really cool that there are more people in the scene making space for both queer and Black artists. I feel like the spectrum of voices is needed. We all need to be heard.
Going off of that, what’s the ultimate message that you want to get across in your music?
I think the ultimate message — I don’t know, it might change — but just that who you are is okay and that your voice deserves to be heard. I’m going to say that is my ultimate message. Just because music really has always been a safe space for me, and it doesn’t really matter what the fuck you look like or any of that shit.
Keep up with King Isis: Instagram // TikTok // X // Spotify // YouTube // Bandcamp
