Q&A: SUUNCAAT and the Art of Sonic Transcendence
INTERVIEW
INTERVIEW
☆ BY DANIELLE HOLIAN ☆
THE MONTREAL-BASED SINGER, PRODUCER, AND MULTIDISCIPLINARY ARTIST SUUNCAAT—embodies the future of pop’s evolution. She has become a distinct voice in the experimental electronic scene, describing her sound as “METAPOP.” Her music feels like a digital séance: an invitation to confront the ghosts that live inside memory, technology and the body itself.
Emerging from the fertile underground of Montreal’s electronic art scene, SUUNCAAT built a reputation for bending sound and identity until they blur into one another. Her production shimmers with synthetic textures and glitchy vocal manipulations, yet always orbit a deeply human core, longing, alienation and catharsis. Tracks often move like dreams remembered halfway: familiar and uncanny, tender and apocalyptic. It’s this duality that defines her work, an artist reaching toward transcendence while never losing sight of the wound that drives her.
Much of SUUNCAAT’s music springs from her experiences as a neurodivergent artist navigating a world that often feels out of sync. Rather than smoothing herself into accessibility, she amplifies the friction. Her songs dwell in the tension between digital overstimulation and emotional intimacy, between isolation and the yearning for communion. She’s unafraid to explore trauma and vulnerability, not as spectacle but as alchemy, transforming what once hurt into art that liberates.
Listening to SUUNCAAT is like entering an alternate frequency. The sound design is precise yet explosive, rapid-fire beats, distorted harmonies, and bursts of melody that feel simultaneously nostalgic and futuristic. She draws inspiration from sources as eclectic as video games, dreams, traditional melodies, and classical music, folding them into hypermodern pop forms. There are echoes of Tchaikovsky and Max Martin, of early 2000s radio hits and cinematic soundtracks, but all refracted through a distinctly personal lens.
Her latest project, “Signs,” continues this artistic metamorphosis. SUUNCAAT describes this track as “a ritual in sound,” merging sacred and synthetic into something both intimate and grandiose. It revisits the myth of the “golden violin child,” a scapegoat figure condemned by society’s fear of difference. Through this mythic lens, SUUNCAAT reflects on the pain of being seen as other, and the strange power that comes from surviving it. The violin, both a weapon and a wound in the song’s narrative, becomes a sonic metaphor for that duality. Organic strings clash with digital textures, evoking beauty and violence in the same breath.
Across her discography, SUUNCAAT’s art functions as both mirror and spell. It’s self-portraiture refracted through myth, pop and digital distortion; an invitation to listeners to see themselves within the chaos. Her work blurs the boundaries between sacred ritual and internet-age excess, proposing a form of pop that isn’t escapist but transformative.
Continue reading below to find out more about SUUNCAAT, her musical artistry and more.
LUNA: Thank you for sitting down and talking with Luna. Our readers would love to get to know you and your music. For any who aren't familiar yet, what inspires your artistic style and creative persona?
SUUNCAAT: It’s my pleasure. My influences operate more on the subconscious level so it’s difficult to situate where the exact influences come from. I follow my instincts. I’ve always stood a slight distance away from the social world, which I guess gave me an unusually coherent inner one. The way I present myself, my art, my opinions, I can’t really liken them to anything or anyone else I know. I’m sure it’s stitched from everything I’ve ever absorbed and loved, but it’s subliminal. It’s a result of my dreams, my impulses, my errors and spending a lot of time alone.
LUNA: You describe “Signs” as a ritual in sound. How do you conceptualize music as a ritual, and what does that mean for your creative process?
SUUNCAAT: Ritual is very interesting in that it is the oldest technology humanity has. It’s a way of reprogramming reality through repetition of symbols, and music sits inside that lineage for me. It offers transcendence as a remedy to my alienation. Religion and rave culture have that in common; they both codify communal trance, whether via prayer or rhythm. That’s why I inject a lot of symbols in my art. It’s where magick is hidden.
LUNA: The track revisits the myth of the “golden violin child.” Can you share more about how personal experience and mythology intertwine in your work?
SUUNCAAT: It’s a take on the scapegoat archetype which I’m attracted to because I liken it to my own experience and because she acts as a pressure valve for society. The odd one out as a threat which must be destroyed. In the trope of the golden violin child, she is a target for resentment and must be sacrificed in order for peace to return. You can only write about what you know intimately.
LUNA: You describe the violin in the song as both a weapon and a wound. How did you translate that duality into the music itself?
SUUNCAAT: I wanted the violin to bring a sense of tradition to the sonic environment. It was a means to play with contrast while adding to the meaning of the song. I tried synthesizing violins at first and it would just sound so uncanny. Violins carry a weeping, soul yearning quality that can’t be imitated, and that’s where all the strength lies. I don’t remember who said this, but, “the lance that smote shall heal.”
LUNA: The lyrics explore the idea of being deified and adored. How does vulnerability inform your approach to writing about such intense themes?
SUUNCAAT: I had to make peace with other people’s projections in order to say what I want to say. Vulnerability, for me, is an exposure that becomes power. It’s about holding up a mirror to the instincts and taboos we pretend we don’t have. I’m not afraid of being seen because I’m more interested in what it reveals in others.
LUNA: How did your experiences as a young prodigy shape your artistic identity today, both musically and visually?
SUUNCAAT: It showed me that we live in a culture uncomfortable with excellence, that chants humility while secretly policing transcendence. It made me a contrarian. So my art is a kind of liturgy against mediocrity.
LUNA: “Signs” is your first fully self-mixed track. How did taking full control of the mixing process change your relationship to the music?
SUUNCAAT: There’s obviously tremendous value in teamwork, and I think it creates great things in the world. But when you stop outsourcing your instincts to other people’s comfort zones, you get closer to the original impulse. I reached a point where I no longer wanted to confuse self-doubt for craftsmanship, so I learned to trust myself as an act of devotion to the sound.
LUNA: Your work blends hyperpop, classical elements, and cinematic storytelling. How do you approach merging these seemingly contrasting styles?
SUUNCAAT: I grew up with Tchaikovsky, Max Martin, Disney scores, traditional Jewish melodies and Top 40 radio in two languages. It’s just the reality of my ear and my upbringing more than an aesthetic choice. Music evolves because people do. I consider that I make pop music. At least it’s my take on pop.
LUNA: The music video expands the song’s mythology. How do you approach translating a sonic narrative into visual form?
SUUNCAAT: Once I film a music video, It makes me want to return to the song and reshape it. The visual dimension reveals things the audio hadn’t fully expressed, and vice versa. It’s a dance. The video answers questions the song left open, and the song evolves to meet what the images showed. It’s a feedback loop: sound generates image, images generate sound.
LUNA: Rebie embodies your shadow in the video. What does the concept of a shadow self represent to you in your art?
SUUNCAAT: In my work, the shadow is an ally that reveals itself to those who show courage. It invites a confrontation.
LUNA: How did co-directing the video with Rebie impact the creative dialogue and final aesthetic?
SUUNCAAT: Our previous shoots were intense. Heavily planned, highly protocoled (sic), etc. It created beautiful results, but it also killed some of the magic. We realized that over-controlling a vision can suffocate it. This time, we wanted to surrender to the experience. No makeup, no production design. Just us in the wild. Simple DIY costumes that let us move, breathe, and be in the action instead of performing it. We spent the weekend running through the forest with a GoPro and a drone. Later on the mountain peak, we had to avoid cracks that lead into oblivion while getting attacked by three eagles as we were filming. It was an initiation rite. Working together in these conditions means that you have to trust each other’s instincts. I recommend it as a team building exercise.
LUNA: Your work often blurs boundaries between pop, ritual, and electronic ecstasy. How do you define pop in the context of your music?
SUUNCAAT: Pop is the music of the people. It evolves with culture. There is no rigid definition of pop music because it shifts too fast. Right now pop is very dopamine based because it’s what we’re dealing with as a society. But precedents are constantly being set, and I want to participate in that.
LUNA: Trauma, mythology, and transcendence appear as recurring themes in your work. Do you see art as a form of exorcism or healing?
SUUNCAAT: If you consider exorcism as a ritual which integrates the devil, as opposed to ejecting it, then yes.
LUNA: Looking back at your earlier work, how do you feel your approach to storytelling, both musical and visual, has evolved?
SUUNCAAT: In the beginning I was probably trying to find a compromise, a way to meet the standards of pop music while protecting my integrity. But my masking was unsuccessful so I decided to impose my own standards instead.
LUNA: Finally, with “Signs,” what do you hope listeners and viewers take away, emotionally or conceptually?
SUUNCAAT: They are free and welcome to take away whatever serves them.
