VALKYRIE’S BARD

Q: What first inspired you to explore the idea of collective awakening in “MOVEMENT”?
Years of watching atrocities unfold on social media. Watching people die in real time while the world kept scrolling, while I kept scrolling. I couldn’t look away, and I couldn’t understand how everyone else seemed to be able to. I felt alone. My first album Wake the Bones came from that — grief, witness, and the question of what it takes for people to actually see each other. “Movement” is about the moment when you realize you’re not the only one who’s awake.

Q: When you wrote about “walls inside your sleep,” what kind of emotional or real-life experiences were you drawing from?
I think we’re all taught things before we’re old enough to question them — about who we are, what we’re worth, what’s possible. Some of those beliefs protect us. Some of them become prisons. I’ve spent a lot of my adult life trying to figure out which walls were mine and which ones were built for me. That line is about the slow realization that some of the limits you thought were just “how things are” were actually put there by someone else.

Q: The song talks a lot about how language can shape perception — what made you focus on words and “spells” as a central theme?
I’m a songwriter, but I’m also a novelist. Language is how I process everything. And I’ve noticed how easily words can be weaponized — how “instinct” becomes “paranoia,” how “knowing” becomes “conspiracy.” The people in power understand this. They rename things to control how we feel about them. But we can use the same tools back. That’s the whole point of the bridge — “we’ve learned to spell the same way.”

Q: Do you feel like people are becoming more aware of how language influences their thoughts today?
Yes and no. More people are noticing manipulation, but manipulation is also getting more sophisticated. Social media, AI, targeted messaging. It’s an arms race. I think the only real defense is developing your own inner compass and learning to feel when something’s off, even if you can’t articulate why yet.

Q: There’s a strong sense of quiet manipulation at the beginning of the song — how did you approach writing that in a subtle but impactful way?
I wanted it to feel like waking up slowly. Not a loud alarm… more like the moment before you open your eyes, when you sense something’s wrong but you’re not sure what. The production mirrors that too. The manipulation in real life doesn’t announce itself. It’s quiet. It’s comfortable. That’s what makes it effective.

Q: The lyrics suggest that instinct is often dismissed as paranoia — is that something you’ve personally experienced or observed?
Both. I have ADHD, and for most of my life I was told my instincts were “too much” — that I was overreacting, being dramatic, seeing things that weren’t there. But my gut was usually right. I just didn’t trust it because I’d been taught not to. I think a lot of people, especially women, have that experience. We’re trained to second-guess ourselves.

Q: You describe music itself as something that can influence or even control people — how has your relationship with music changed because of that awareness?
It’s made me more intentional. I know that melody and repetition can bypass the rational mind and go straight to emotion. That’s powerful — and it can be used for good or harm. I try to write hooks that wake people up rather than put them to sleep. “Every earworm in your head was a needle full of sleeping” is self-aware about that — I’m not just using the tools of pop music to say “look at what pop music can do to you,” but that you can take back your power with the same thing that took it away.

Q: Was it important for you to keep some parts of the lyrics open to interpretation rather than fully explained?
Absolutely. I don’t want to tell people what to think. I want to give them a framework and let them bring their own experiences. The “something more within yourself” — I don’t define it because it’s different for everyone. Could be spirituality, could be intuition, could be something you lost in childhood. The listener gets to decide.

Q: How important is the idea of not feeling alone in the message of “MOVEMENT”?
It’s the whole point. The first half of the song is about individual awakening — realizing you’ve been asleep. But the turn happens when you find others. “Every voice that sang alone is calling out and hearing others.” That’s when it becomes a movement. Isolation is part of how control works. Connection breaks it.

Q: The lyrics suggest that real change comes through feeling and healing rather than force — what led you to that perspective?
Lived experience. I’ve been through things that nearly broke me — and what brought me back wasn’t fighting or forcing. It was feeling what I’d been avoiding, and slowly learning to trust myself again. Therapy, honestly. And time. I don’t think you can rage your way to wholeness. You have to feel your way there.

Q: Do you think music can actually help people reconnect with that sense of healing and shared emotion?
I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t. Music reaches places that words alone can’t. When you’re in a crowd and everyone’s singing the same thing, or even just alone with headphones feeling seen by a song — that’s real. That’s connection. That’s what I’m trying to create.

Q: There’s a strong sense of unity in the later part of the song — what does that kind of connection look like to you in real life?
Honestly? It looks like small moments. A stranger making eye contact and you both just know. A friend who doesn’t need you to explain. My daughter reaching for my hand. It’s not grand gestures. It’s presence. It’s choosing to show up even when it’s hard.

Q: Do you see “MOVEMENT” as more of a personal reflection or a wider message to society?
Both. Everything I write comes from something personal — but I try to make it universal enough that other people can find themselves in it. The personal is political. My grief about Gaza is also my grief about my own life, about the world, about what we do to each other. It’s all connected.

Q: Has writing this song changed the way you see your audience or your role as an artist?
Yes. I used to think of music as self-expression — getting something out of me. Now I think of it more as service. I’m not just processing my own feelings. I’m trying to create something that helps other people process theirs. That’s a different kind of responsibility.

Q: If there’s one feeling or idea you hope stays with listeners after hearing “MOVEMENT,” what would it be?
You’re not alone. Whatever woke you up — grief, rage, exhaustion, love — other people are waking up too. You just have to find each other.