It’s about a half-hour before noon on the Lower East Side, and in another thirty or so minutes, she’ll be headed over to the Good Company - a homely, youth-oriented fashion storefront on Allen Street - for a pop-up event where she’s slated to meet fans of hers in-person for the first time in her life. “I like adding shit to the cinematic quinneverse,” she says, poring over a bottle of Poland Spring in a busy internet cafe, as her longtime manager cheerfully nods along. But when all is said and done, the dots may never have been meant for connection. Line that up with her most recent project, an eponymous 30-minute LP that puts mellow vocal performances in conversation with the controlled chaos of far-reaching musical contexts, and what you’re left with is a series of unconnectable dots. In one SoundCloud loosie she quietly released as “DJ Weird Bitch” three months ago - its self-explanatory title: “dj weird bitch goes to NTS live headquarters and sets off a 7 yottabyte zip bomb on the wifi network” - she oscillates mercilessly between sped-up Japanese city pop sax solos, muddied rap-adjacent chatter, and glitched-out barrages punctuated by nifty transitions. 17 years old and making music since long before then, she’s dutifully peppered the internet with opaque tunes wrapped in inconspicuous packages, her scatterbrained sonic experiments separated solely by a smattering of odd monikers.
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