Sasha Atlas: When I was in high school, Bushwick was not what it is today. It was pretty much entirely industrial, and any events that happened there were almost certainly unsanctioned. When I was a junior, my friends were playing a show on a rooftop of one of these newly built condo buildings. Back then there was very little noise enforcement or really anything preventing you from throwing a rager outside until the wee hours of the night. It was BYOB, and obviously we were underage. We threw a bunch of beers into a hard shelled guitar case and brought it on the subway with the rest of the gear. We felt like rockstars. There were hundreds of people on this rooftop, and there was a hot tub.

​

GM: Okay, we HAVE to talk about your transition from your Wolf of Wall Street finance career to singer-songwriter, at what point did you realize you needed to shift gears to a more creative outlet?

​

SA: I think that some context is important here. I'm a first generation American; my parents emigrated from the recently dissolved USSR, a failed and broken state. They had absolutely nothing there, they were literally starving; and when they came to the US, we just had next to nothing. We lived on less than $100 per month for a family of 4. I didn't have any new clothes until we could afford to shop at K-mart, when I was about 7 or 8. The scarcity mentality is generational and runs deep. Still, everyone in my family is a gifted artist or musician. Even when we were poor, my parents made sure to allocate budget to send me and my brother to music lessons. But at the end of the day, it always felt like making a lot of money was more important, because we knew what it was like not to have any. I always maintained a high GPA and busted my ass studying for exams to get into schools that would set me up for a high paying job. Even though I double majored in theater in college, but I always understood I would go into some professional career with high earning potential. Pursuing art was just too risky, and I couldn't square it with my understanding of the world. But the need for art and the dream of a career in the arts never really left.

When I started working as a trader, I liked my job, and I was good at it. And the feeling of having real money felt extremely gratifying. But by then, no one in my family was struggling anymore, least of all me. Over time, my work started to feel like making money just for the sake of making money, and it lost its existential urgency, which left me feeling very hollow. I also started to resent my industry in light of the major economic disparity it had opened my eyes to, especially during COVID. During quarantine, I had a lot of time to think and reconsider my priorities. I also started writing music, a lot of it, something I hadn't really done since I started working. It felt like a younger me, the one that was sure she could do and be anything, was re-awakening after a long and solemn hibernation. I started releasing music and building my artist project on the side. When I learned my company was being sold and we were all being laid off in 2023, I decided not to look for another job. Now I'm here. 

​

GM: Your music is described as 'opinionated and bold' yet it betrays a 'sensitive soul that longs for resolutions. How do you balance vulnerability and strength in your music AND public persona?

​

SA: This is a really tough one for me, especially in the age of social media. I have a lot of strong beliefs, and music and art have always been my preferred way of expressing them, because they are personal to me. My first release, "WALLS" is very critical, and was written as a response to my frustration with the politics and social climate of the pandemic. I feel empowered expressing myself through art, because I can be nuanced or subtle. But I often feel that subtlety is not appreciated today. So much of being an artist today is hinged on your social media presence, and I just feel very uncomfortable and overexposed expressing the same opinions in plain text on places like Tiktok. It's certainly much more likely to go viral. But I wouldn't write music if all I wanted was to be controversial. Maybe it's because I am a bit introverted, or want to keep certain parts of myself private. I don't like to broadcast my thoughts and feelings to millions online. But in my music, I can be vulnerable, I can allow people access to those private feelings without feeling stripped. The music is my armor, I can express myself in a way I feel is far more nuanced, productive, and ultimately positive. ​

​

GM: Moving to Miami seems to have been a huge shift for you, not only in location but in musical landscapes as well! How has the immersion into Miami's electronic scene influenced you?

​

SA: Funny enough, I really used to look down on electronic music. I was coming of age during the heyday of EDM festivals, big room house acts like Swedish House Mafia and Avicci, and YOLO. I was underage for most of it, so too young to really enjoy it, and I was definitely a bit of a hipster. I thought there couldn't be anything less cool than this cheesy, happy, scene, which I felt lacked the depth and edginess of the indie genres I preferred. But there was something really optimistic and fun about the early 2010s which totally disappeared by the end of the decade. It was like all the hope was sucked out of the world, and I was feeling it, especially in NYC. 

I moved to Miami in 2021 to escape, and it was like seeing in color for the first time in years. Miami has its issues, but it's undeniably got a unique vibrance, which I desperately needed. Shortly after my arrival, I went to my first rave, which blew my mind for a few reasons. I didn't hear that cheesy music I hated, instead I was taken on journeys through melodies and rhythms that deeply moved me. I later learned that the term "EDM" describes electronic music about as well as "food" describes all the things you could eat; there are hundreds of genres, some of which I think are terrible, and some which have completely changed the direction of the music I make. That feeling of hope and optimism that comes when dancing to great music all night on the beach was a feeling I didn't want to let go of. 

​

GM: You've expressed a desire to contribute your voice to conversations with global impacts. Are there any specific issues or stories that you're passionate about amplifying through your music?

​

SA: Going back to feeling overexposed, I think I want to let my music do most of the talking. I've touched on themes from social justice, economic inequality, and the uncertainty of the future of my generation (I'm a geriatric gen Z). I think we all feel extremely uncertain in our footing and what kind of world we are inheriting, and that comes through in my music in lyrics whether I want it to or not. Most of my music is about that kind of stuff really, and I'm actually working on writing more love songs to try to lighten my lyrical content a bit. But I've really been enjoying specifically writing dance tracks about these topics; I think the juxtaposition of the serious lyrics with grooves that make you want to dance is a unique approach. 

​

GM: As someone who has reinvented themselves multiple times, from finance professional to electro-pop artist, what future reinventions or explorations are you most excited about in your career?

​

SA: I think that the way I do my live performances are going to evolve and change as I continue to hone my sound. I learned to DJ, which felt like unlocking a door to a whole new world of possibilities for how I can perform my music, but I think that's only the first step. I want to learn to perform using loopers and synthesizers and drum machines. My dream is to find a way to perform my electronic music completely live, maybe even in a band, like Rufus Du Sol and Bob Moses. In general, the prospect of bringing back live music to the dancefloor is something that really excited me.