UNLOCKINGSITE

Ashnikko is into playing characters. Each album has introduced a new archetype — a self-portrait in the form of a myth. There was the dystopian warrior of WEEDKILLER, rising from the ashes of a ruined world, and the bratty, cartoonish chaos of DEMIDEVIL, who came armed with TikTok virality and razor-sharp hooks.

Now there’s the Smoochies girl: “messy and gleeful and mischievous,” as she tells PAPER. “She’s dirty, erotic, sexy, but also grotesque and foul-mouthed… the girl in the club bathroom giving you her last tampon.”

Where her earlier work swung between anger and fantasy, Smoochies feels freer, more human. It’s the sound of an artist loosening her armor and rediscovering joy in the wreckage. “At the core of my songwriting is playfulness,” she says. “I have to work hard to maintain that and preserve it, like a little flame I have to keep stoking.” That flame burns all over the record — in its cotton-candy sweetness, its filth, its flirtation with chaos.

The world of Smoochies is both hedonistic and healing. Ashnikko turns dating, sex, and self-performance into something funny, grotesque, and liberating. “I think dating is funny,” she says. “Casual sex is funny. Opening yourself up to new people can be this serious, vulnerable thing, but sometimes I have an out-of-body experience and just watch myself doing it like, this is ridiculous.” That humor doubles as self-defense, as if each song is a glitter bomb lobbed at the expectations placed on women and performers alike.

She calls the album her most personal yet — a reconnection with why she makes music at all. “You can become disillusioned by it,” she says. “Then you have to work to find the core again.” That core, for her, is joy: messy, embodied, and authentic. “What does it look like when no one’s watching?” she asks. “When it’s just me and my imagination.”

In conversation, Ashnikko speaks with the precision of someone who has built entire universes but now just wants to live inside her own skin. Smoochies is her soft place to land — a record that treats vulnerability not as a weakness but as spectacle. And like its creator, it’s impossible to categorize.

We sat down with Ashnikko to discuss the new album, her return to joy, and the messy, maximalist universe of Smoochies.

You’re in London right now, right? How has it been? The album dropped on Friday — how are you feeling? What’s the reception been like so far?

Yeah, it’s been great. I actually feel like it’s been overwhelmingly positive. My fans have been reacting to it so beautifully, and I feel like all any artist really wants is for their music to have a soft place to land. It’s been landing gorgeously, softly, into welcoming arms. It’s been incredible. One of my favorite things is reading how people interpret the songs without my explanation. That’s what I love most about music: attaching your own meaning to it. Seeing other people do that with my songs is incredible.

Was there any specific track you expected people to interpret a certain way, or hoped they would?

Yeah, I think the closing song, “It Girl,” is very special and personal to me. Realizing that the experience of being an eldest daughter is so universal has been beautiful. The song is about way more than that, though. It’s about navigating a world that only values you for what you can give as a beautiful little object, instead of for the wisdom you accumulate over the years. You have to constantly fight for people to value that within you. For others to really get what I meant with that song means a lot. Everyone has parents who hand you these little spiky barbs that you have to somehow smooth down, so it’s really nice to hear that people are resonating with it.

You’ve said this is your most personal body of work yet — that it helped you remember why you make music. What had you forgotten, and how did Smoochies bring that spark back?

I feel like there’s an ebb and flow to having a music career. You can become disillusioned by it all, and then you have to work to find the core of why you make music again. It’s a constant practice: finding it, losing it, finding it again. I think on my last album, I maybe lost it a little bit.

But Smoochies really reminded me that I can approach music from a joyful place. At the core of my songwriting is playfulness, and I have to work hard to maintain and preserve that — like a little flame I have to keep stoking. Once you start commodifying something as intrinsic to the human experience as music, some of the magic can slip away. But it’s always still there. It’s just about making it a daily practice to rediscover it. Writing this album helped me do that again. That’s not to say I don’t love my last album; I do. But there was an emotional element I found again this time around.

You sing about “collecting boys like Labubus.” What kind of humor or healing did you find in turning messy dating experiences into pop songs?

I think dating is funny. Casual sex is funny. Opening yourself up to new people can be this serious, vulnerable thing, but sometimes I have an out-of-body experience and just watch myself doing it like, this is ridiculous. My best writing usually comes from the way I interact with other people, and honestly, a lot of my interactions with men are silly. I love milking that for inspiration — pun intended.

You’ve said the album rejects the male gaze entirely.

Yeah, there are elements of that. It’s about finding my eroticism, my sexuality, and even my depravity in a place separate from that gaze. Like, what does it look like when no one’s watching? When it’s just me and my imagination, with no performance. Especially within dating, I’ve been trying to reject that need to perform, because God, it’s exhausting. I feel like I come from a lineage of women who have spent so much time and energy performing. I think we deserve a break.

When you talk about that lineage of women, do you mean your ancestors, or is it more of a metaphorical lineage? Are you spiritual in that way?

No, not really in a spiritual way. When I say “lineage,” I mean it more societally, on a macro scale.

If Smoochies had a scent, what would it smell like?

That’s really good. I’d say cotton candy. Definitely cotton candy. Maybe mixed with the smell of a vanilla latte. Something edible, something you’d want to lick.

How does the Smoochies girl differ from the WEEDKILLER girl, or other past album archetypes you’ve created? Are they different versions of you?

The Smoochies girl is messy and gleeful and mischievous. She’s dirty, erotic, sexy, but also grotesque and foul-mouthed. She’s a community organizer; she’s the girl in the club bathroom giving you her last tampon. She’s locked in a heart-to-heart all night because she loves to connect. That’s the Smoochies girl. I love creating new characters with each album, and she’s an archetype I feel really drawn to right now. It feels good to write from that place. I’m having so much fun with it.

How does the Smoochies world translate to a live show? Are you already envisioning the visuals or the vibe?

Yeah, I want it to feel like musical theater: surreal, a little uneasy, euphoric, full of heightened emotion. I want it to be absurd. I’m working on it now — lots of choreography, lots of dramatic interludes. I really want to have a Britney mic for this tour because I want to use my hands more. We’ll see how it all unfolds, but I’m definitely approaching it with a lot more theatrics than my past shows.

Photography: Vasso Vu