: Robyn, in the promo copy for your new album “Sexistential” there is a beautiful line: “It is, as if we could hardly accept that we are simply human.” What is that, the human measure?
Robyn: That we don’t know why we’re here. That’s the crazy part. Nobody really knows. It’s strange that we’re tiny clumps on a huge pile of rock spinning through space, and we don’t know why. At the same time, we have to deal with these super banal and very real needs: hunger and love. This contradiction is perhaps the defining quality of the living. But there isn’t much room for it in the way we live.
: In your music, this space opens up. The sound, as before, is very driving and very physical. Yet your lyrics carry a certain melancholy or sadness. How do you connect those?
Robyn: I’m trying to understand that myself. To put it in musically nerdy terms: my obsession is when the rhythm of the words pushes the melody into a groove that does something to my body. The gravity behind it isn’t made by me; the cosmos does that. It’s comforting to know that the universe really doesn’t care about us. It’s incredibly unsettling, but it’s also very comforting because it preserves this ongoing mystery of being alive. Why do we feel things when we hear rhythm? Why do certain things feel vast and free?
In Interview: Robyn
Born in 1979 in Stockholm, legally named Robin Miriam Carlsson, she achieved international hits with Eurodance pop before leaving her major label in 2005 and founding Konichiwa Records. With the Body Talk trilogy (2010) and “Dancing On My Own,” she became a reference figure for a pop sound that blends dancefloor euphoria with emotional vulnerability. In 2018, her latest album “Honey” was released. Since then, she has fulfilled her wish to have a child through IVF and is today a single mother. Her new album “Sexistential” is scheduled for release on March 27, 2026.
: Does gravity apply on the field of music as well?
Robyn: In music, these physical laws can’t be ignored. If something doesn’t groove, it simply doesn’t groove. Prince used to say: “Don’t try to explain funk, because it can’t be explained.” It’s very satisfying that no one knows, because it means I have this secret place to escape to. Where I can simply be in this relationship between rhythm and melody. And sometimes you hit something there, nurture something that may grow beyond your small space and your isolated little feeling, because the song triggers that in everyone else too. That is a beautiful thing.
: Do you dance to your own music?
Robyn: Yes, definitely. It has to be that way, otherwise I wouldn’t release it. That was one of the criteria for the new songs: the music has to groove, it has to be physically inspiring. That was also important for me because of the claustrophobia I began to feel when I tried to get pregnant, dated, and became a single mother, with all the stigma surrounding it. I definitely had to confront fears.
But amid all that, such exceptional situations were also really funny. For example, injecting hormones and then going on a date. There was a contradiction in the situation that was incredibly comical and quite punk. My experience of it was more complex than it reflected back to me. That’s why the music had to sound expansive. The ambivalence, the combination, is real. It’s closer to reality than simply sad or simply happy.
: Has this experience of becoming a mother on your own expanded your definition of love?
Robyn: Definitely! But from within, not from a theoretical place. I always wanted to be a mother as well. I often chose not to have children because I didn’t feel in a relationship that could carry it. A kind of self-protection. But I think if you want to have a child, what you should truly do in a perfect world is build a real relationship.
A relationship that is resilient, highly responsible, and truly intimate. Finding such a trustworthy person is not easy. Equally complicated is creating a space in which you feel secure. I don’t feel that my love for my son is deeper than the love I have for other people. I believe it is the same. It’s just that when you have a child, you genuinely must become a better person. Being able to pour my love into another person created so much room. It was truly liberating for me to separate the act of loving from baby-making and family-building.
Robyn: “Sexistential” (Konichiwa/Young/Indigo) will be released on March 27, 2026
: You’re coming back from a seven-year creative hiatus. For a pop star, that’s an eternity during which the music industry has changed completely, including the human factor. Whether it’s AI or streaming algorithms and the listening habits of the playlist economy, how does that feel?
Robyn: Even with my last album, streaming was the norm. But now social media dictates how people consume music and what music. It’s a luxury not to have to compete there, because I started before social media. Perhaps for the first time in music history, older artists have an advantage because the entire history is already documented.
For newcomers there is nothing out there for people to fall back on. And you’re now so dependent on this mountain of content to get people interested in engaging with your music. I don’t have to do that. I can simply keep building on my foundation, even without social media. That’s perhaps the hardest thing to achieve, because this work takes so much time. And I don’t think many musicians see this as part of their job.
: Artists are now complaining that they have to produce in a certain way to be favored by the algorithm.
Robyn: Following that line of thinking, I would call it bad advice, especially for young talents. Reading the social algorithm and finding a way to crack it is something artists have always done. But it can happen in good and bad ways. The good way—and there is one—is one that isn’t based on commercial interests. I only get this advice for social media. Strategic promotion. It’s now simply part of my professional field.
: Your lyrics sound very personal, very raw. Have you ever regretted this openness in retrospect?
Robyn: You have to expose yourself. It’s uninteresting to watch or listen to someone who doesn’t take risks. Which risk you choose to take is up to you, but if you’re watching someone on stage or looking at a work and you don’t feel that the person who made it truly explored something real, that’s boring.
Someone puts something on the line and negotiates musically, making it risky for them. If that doesn’t happen, there’s no real reason to engage. For me, it’s never strategic. If someone defines or limits me, I rebel against it. Music, to me, is a way to define utopias where there’s room for my feelings. Expression becomes moving when it arises out of necessity.
: Even utopia seems to be growing more utopian in recent years.
Robyn: I am privileged in many ways, especially with regard to the country I was born in. Sweden is still extremely open by international standards. So I wouldn’t say I’m directly affected. But I am acutely aware of how sharply misogyny is rising among young people and young men. That is extremely troubling.
