Interview by  Matteo PiniPortrait by Juan Camilo Díez

MP Your music is often compared to dream states. Do you ever incorporate elements of your dreams into your music?

JK Mimicking dreaming is how I would describe the flow state I enter while working creatively: letting thoughts, memories and ideas blend in uncanny ways, all guided by currents of emotion. I tend not to directly incorporate elements of my dreams into my music, but I have a freakishly good memory and remember most of my dreams, even back to my childhood. Once, I wrote a song about a strange dream I had where I was in this large warehouse, and – through a maze of instances involving a skate park desert, Richard Branson, a makeout through a plastic shower liner and many other bizarre scenarios – I missed out on the most epic party of all time taking place in that warehouse. When I finally got to my friends, they were all sweating and telling me, “You missed it, where were you?!” The song was called “Odyssey”, and it was never released.

MP Your work has been described as collage. Does that resonate with you, or are there other artistic frameworks that feel closer to how you think about your process?

JK Yes. Collage is a word I’ve used quite often to describe my work. I think of my creative process as piecing together fragments, externally and internally – sounds, words, thoughts, references – to create a bed of layers. The piecing together of these disparate elements feels most akin to collaging, and I do like the word because it’s tactile and it references using the hands and brain. I would also describe my work as emotive. I’m trying to balance both sides of the brain, but I have been clinically described as “hypersensitive”, so feeling deeply guides the process.

MP In retrospect, what did Friend describe about your life at the time you made it?

JK Balance.

MP What kinds of sounds or music shaped you early on? Are there particular childhood listening experiences that echo in your work?

JK Bugs. I love the multilayering of sounds and textures that insects create when they are spread across a field, communicating with each other. It’s my favorite ASMR, I suppose. I relate it to my childhood and my hyperawareness of these things when I was a kid. My experiences singing in choirs from a young age have also shaped my work. The way I approach vocals is quite layered, and I tend to produce and shape my voice to be like that of a choir.

MP There’s a tactile quality to your sound design, like materials being layered or eroded. Do you think of your music in physical or textural terms?

JK Absolutely. A lot of my practice involves shaping sounds according to an instrument’s parameters, and running sounds through chains of effects to create textural depth. It’s about shaping the character of sounds by creating artefacts, which I think of as texture. For me, texture lies in the infinite detail that creates a richness of space, transporting you into a sonic realm that you feel emotionally and physically. I also consider how certain frequencies interact with your brain and send signals to your body. Different frequencies create very different mental and physical responses. I sometimes relate the building of sonic frequencies to the process of constructing perfumes with base, middle and top notes, or paintings, with colours and mediums. I think of these sound compositions as large beds of textural layers and space you can lose yourself in.

MP Your music feels resistant to easy consumption, to the kinds of algorithmic drift that characterise how music is consumed in the 2020s. Do you think about how listeners engage with difficulty or opacity?

JK There is a desire to connect, though I don’t actively think about the listener as a consumer when I’m making music. I am really focused on translating something internal: the idea and the emotion and maintaining the spirit of the sound. It funnily dawned on me in a panel I spoke on last week, when an artist in the audience said that streaming has influenced them to consider making the length of their songs shorter to make them more algorithmically favoured. My desire to make music doesn’t have to do with being heard by the largest number of people. Some of my songs are seven minutes long, or longer. I’m trying to create a world to be in, for whoever wants to be there, for however long. It has taken me some time, but I think I’ve reached the people who want to engage with the sound and intention of the work, and those who have the focus and desire to sit in that space.

MP You’ve just released a remix album of Friend this year. What does it mean to hear your work refracted through other artists’ interpretations?

JK It’s a trip and deeply meaningful to me. This remix record was a longtime desire of mine: I am closely connected to these musicians and the underground club and experimental scenes they operate within, and this is where I have always felt most inspired and supported. The record is closely related to personal experiences and the communities I have connected to within these spaces. The artists I asked to remix the record have influenced me in many ways over the years. Having this music re-envisioned by what I feel are some of the most talented producers currently operating is a huge honour. It allows these songs to exist in new forms in these spaces, especially club spaces, which have always been meaningful zones for me creatively and spiritually. .

james K will perform at End of the Road Festival 2026 in September.