Sofiiak Wants You to Start an Electroclash Band
The sun pours through my apartment windows, casting angular beams of light throughout the 1-bedroom. I put sunglasses on and strut through my errands with a familiar bouncy ambition in my step, leaves from blooming trees prancing in the air and fluttering around me. An energy emanates from every pedestrian in short sleeves I pass: determination combined with tranquility and, maybe, a touch of excitement. It’s the first true warm, sunny day this year in Seattle–the day when residents come out of hiding, shed layers of fabric and apathy, and remember why we’re still doing this, why we’re still going along with the motions. The spirit of spring is tangible; a reminder that the sun does, indeed, come out eventually, and that while change is inevitable, sometimes it can be renewing.
This feeling persists as the evening chill rolls in and Sofiiak pulls their Subaru onto the crowded street in front of my apartment in Capitol Hill. We exchange giggly greetings before departing to our first destination, the Evergreen Goodwill (the largest Goodwill in the world–another bragging right for our dear city), where Sofia plans to shop for outfit accessories for their upcoming show, the reveal of their new Sofiiak band lineup.
From left to right: Eden Barlow, Even Hartung, Sofia K.
My introduction and connection to Sofiiak extends silently far before our eventual connections through zines and music. In 2022, as I neared college graduation with big dreams of moving out of my home state of Arizona, my partner and I traveled to Seattle to get a feel for the city in case we decided to move here (spoiler: it won us over). While waiting for our flight back home at SEA-TAC, we wandered around the Sub Pop Records airport store, where we purchased a copy of a local riot grrrl zine called Ra Ra Rebel, created by duo Sofia K. and Kennady Quille. The zine was exactly what every zine should be–unabashed, interactive, multimedia and deeply unique with the personalities of its creators seeping through every detail. As only a tourist at the time, my copy of Ra Ra Rebel was an introduction to the DIY and punk communities of Seattle and a tiny glimpse into the personality, culture and rebelliousness of the city I’d eventually call home.
I came to learn that Ra Ra Rebel and its entertainment label Riot Grrrl Records were only a tip of the iceberg for the presence of its creators in Seattle’s music scene. As Sofia sifts through shoulder-padded blazers in the masculine section of Goodwill, they tell me how they found a place in the music scene at the age of 15 with a role in the KEXP Youth Program 90.TEEN, a program that introduced them to DJing, exposed them to tsunamis of new music, and opened doors for industry opportunities through the Vera Program, the Museum of Pop Culture’s Youth Advisory Board, The Stranger, an internship at Sub Pop Records, and various gigs at music venues around the city. “I was just starting out in the scene, and I literally would just beg for opportunities, because I was a 16 year old twerp,” they tell me as we peruse the purse aisle, where they pick up a glittery silver clutch and a handbag decorated with cartoon women drinking wine. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I would take advantage of every opportunity that I could and just send out cold pitch emails to anyone who I thought could help me as a 16 year old.”
Obsessiveness — the insatiable drive of an artist hell-bent on succeeding in a competitive industry — is a consistent topic in our conversation as we return to Sofia’s car after our Goodwill stop. “A lot of people are like, ‘Oh, you're a workaholic,’” they explain over a Lady Gaga club remix, “and I'm like, I just like to do things. I'm like a shark.” Sofia’s drive to stick their foot into any slightly open door came from an inherent desire to know music and art, and to be music and art. Coming from a family with little musical influence, Sofia had to personally navigate music history with the help of the internet, friends and mentors. “I had to find all the music I wanted to listen to by myself. I think I just like, watched Pitch Perfect one day, and was like ”Oh, DJing! Yeah!’” they exclaim. “I feel like I really never wanted a non-creative job. I’m really bad at coding. I’m really bad at it.”
We pull into their practice space, a room in an inconspicuous unmarked concrete warehouse in SODO where muffled drumming and the subtle hum of a bass down the hall vibrate the floors. Personality and camp line the green-painted walls of the room; abstract geometric art and large hand-painted fish cutouts hang on the wall, a yellow mannequin torso lounges next to a pile of music stands, a vintage vacuum stands at attention next to a bass, and red drums are stacked strategically in the corner. We sit criss-cross-applesauce across from each other on the polka-dotted rug and really get into the weeds of our interview.
Born in San Francisco, Sofia K. moved to West Seattle as a small child. Their father was a circus performer, introducing them to live performance art and influences in Vaudeville, clownery and miming. “I would do these little circus matinees as a kid, as a little baby, and I loved performing, but it also gave me such bad anxiety and stage fright,” they recount, which lead to a retirement from live performance as a teen and an focus on making electronic music that they shared to SoundCloud. It wasn’t until the Vera Project offered them a spot to perform on a COVID livestream that Sofia decided to perform again, an opening to the world of performance that has not closed since.
“I’ve been collecting records since I was 12, and I got really into punk and riot grrrl music in high school,” they tell me as we explore the consistent influence of music on Seattle’s culture. “I feel like that’s kind of the Seattle element…there’s just so much music everywhere, which is insane to me, because it’s not like that in a lot of places.” Thanks to Seattle’s vast and enveloping musical heartbeat and Sofia’s involvement in institutions that keep that heartbeat strong, they carved a prominent role in the punk and riot grrrl music scene. They co-published Ra Ra Rebel from 2021-2023 with Kennady Quille of KEXP’s Audioasis and established the Sofiiak band, eventually renamed Mold Mom, with Kennady on bass and Liam Downey (of The Fabulous Downey Brothers, So Pitted and Miscomings) on drums. The trio quickly became a mainstay for the Seattle riot grrrl scene through sharp punk bangers and live sets with outrageous audience engagement, character performance, and campy costumes drawing from 1980’s, circus and drag influences.
“You’re not going to leave the show without an opinion…sometimes you’re going to hate it, but that’s fine.”
Now, about 7 years into their musical career, Sofia is shifting directions and returning to their electronic roots. After DJing a Babe Night event with Kennady at Café Racer (rest in peace) in early 2024, Sofia reconnected with their love for electronic music and established a presence as a Seattle DJ mainstay with the mentorship of DJs Wax Witch and Repo Man, co-creators of the Blograve dance series that brings electro, bloghouse and nu-rave to the clubs of Seattle. The following July, Sofia released Bitch Glitch, a solo-made zine paired with an album and party series of the same name. “I wanted Bitch Glitch to be more electronic-based…The idea was to improve the quality of printing,” they tell me, naming classic magazine influences from the 2000s like Seventeen and Nylon. “[The theme] of Issue One was ‘What Makes You a Bitch?’ That’s kind of a reoccuring theme of Bitch Glitch: celebrating bitchiness and things people don’t really talk about. And I guess, volatile femininity,” they explain, drawing a thematic thoroughline between their work with Ra Ra Rebel and new projects. Providing a space for unapologetic honesty and nastiness for femme and queer people is consistent in Sofia’s physical and musical work, with their newest song “Prada” proudly expressing, “I’m wearing Prada, in my Mazda, I’m feeling cunty, you wanna fuck me.”
This performance of unabashed brattiness and tongue-in-cheek ironic self-awareness can also be traced to Sofia’s passion for electroclash, a genre of music and performance from the 1990s–2000s founded by DJ Hell and Larry Tee in New York City. Electroclash is known for its fusion of genres: punk, electro, hip hop, and techno, along with its bold inclusion of performance art, with key players like Fischerspooner and Peaches utilizing bizarre, over the top, thought-provoking performances (like pouring fake blood on designer clothing) paired with overtly sexual and comical lyrics to both entertain and confuse their audiences.
“There’s an element of humor and irony to electroclash that I feel made it so popular, because you had grunge in the 90’s, and that was so serious,” Sofia explains. This aspect of irony and character is foundational to Sofia’s approach to performance and music making. “There’s a quote from Fischerspooner: ‘You’re going to either love it or hate it, but you’re going to have an opinion about it.’ You’re not going to leave the show without an opinion. It makes you think about what you’ve seen, whether that’s good, whether that’s bad. Sometimes you’re going to hate it, but that’s fine.”
“I feel like I don’t want to care about my music, but I feel like I’m a chronic over-carer,” they continue. “I think everyone is. I think everyone cares about their appearance; everyone cares about their art. If they say they don’t, they’re lying. I feel like within my performances, I really try to embody a character. With myself, I’m just Sofia, but when I’m performing, I’m Sofiiak…I really want to create an experience for the audience that they’re going to remember…It’s embodying that rockstar vibe that I feel like I don’t really embody in my personal life, and I don’t really need to.” Through their regular use of fake blood, campy props, crowd interaction and exaggerated characters, Sofia embraces both the magnetism of the rockstar and the theatrical absurdity of electroclash and pop musicians, with disregard for expectation running as a consistent pulse in their work.
To Sofia, electroclash also serves as a bridge between punk and club communities, as the genre often toys with and subverts boundaries drawn between the two subcultures. “There’s a really big electroclash and nu-rave scene that I think was birthed from the punk scene and the riot grrrl scene,” they explain. Referencing producer A.G. Cook’s idea that a computer is the “new folk instrument,” they cite that “with electroclash and nu-rave music in the 2000’s…synthesizers and new technology really allowed this type of music to be accessible to people, and that created a new artform to form. I feel like that’s when there was a big electroclash and nu-rave renaissance in Seattle.” Sofia names early-aughts electroclash bands like The United States of Electronica, Natalie Portman’s Shaved Head (which included Liam Downey, Mold Mom’s drummer, in its lineup), The Fitness, The Trucks, and Tracy and the Plastics, all from the Seattle, Bellingham and Olympia area. Additionally, electroclash founder Larry Tee was born in Bellevue.
However, as this somewhat niche genre fell into semi-obscurity come the 2010’s, Seattle’s modern electroclash scene leaves much to be desired. “Nowadays, Seattle has a big emo scene, there’s a big indie pop scene, there’s a big punk scene, but there’s not a big synth scene,” they express, crediting artists Flesh Produce, Give Me the Money and Cyra Wirth for serving as some of Seattle’s current electronic influences. “One of the ways that Seattle can embody electroclash more is by starting electroclash bands!” they exclaim, “If you’re in an electroclash band, hit me up. I wanna hear your stuff. Please. Please.”
We may begin to see more of electroclash’s influence and sentiments arise in Gen Z’s art and music, with terms like recession pop and indie sleaze squeezing into every crevice of trend and culture as we divulge into nostalgia to cope with a looming recession and ongoing social and political turbulence. “Pop music today takes so much influence from electroclash, with the synths, drums and overt sexuality…I love the term recession pop,” Sofia tells me while hitting their vape, “because we are 100% in a recession. I can’t afford anything. The music industry doesn’t know what’s going on right now, so…just shake your ass and don’t think about it…It really sucks that that’s the state of the economy and politics. I feel like with that genre of music, it was a way [during the 2008 recession] for musicians to still have a career within music.”
Indie sleaze and recession pop draw from the past to provide enough escapism and inspiration for us to face an unstable present, often receiving backlash for being oversaturated, unoriginal or misinterpreting the trends’ influences. Electroclash served a smaller, more dedicated community of enthusiasts hoping to reshape the genre for modern audiences. When I ask Sofia about how nu-rave — another niche mid-2000’s electronic genre that loved neon — could be translated for today, they tell me they’re trying to coin the term new nu rave. “I would love for it to start in Seattle. With the new iteration of nu rave, I want to see anyone and everyone doing it. I want people that have not historically had voices within the music scene to have a platform to share their music within the electronic music scene and the pop music scene and the nu-rave music scene…Specifically within the local scene, I would love to see more people get into it. I can’t be the only one.”
After a two-show tour in NYC at the end of December included a sold-out performance and a “secret headliner” show with Sofia playing a noise set and pouring fake blood all over themselves to the shock and awe of the New York audience (which, to Sofia’s surprise, is not used to such theatrics), they returned to Seattle in early 2025 with a dedication to rebranding as an electroclash and nu-rave musician in their home city, complete with a new lineup and sound for their Sofiiak band. The new lineup includes drummer Evan Hartung and bassist Eden Barlow, both of whom have played in bands previously. “It feels really fresh,” Sofia tells me, “I love songwriting, and I love the creative energy you get with bandmates…There’s a lot we can learn from each other and a lot that we can teach each other. Everyone seems like we’re in the same level of knowledge and vibe. It feels like a supergroup.”
“I’m working on an album called Volatile…I really love the word volatile. I even got it tattooed on my forehead. It has a negative connotation to it, almost like bitch, and I really want to reclaim it as a word that signifies a lot of rapid change…” There it was again, the topic of change–both bracing for it and embracing it–circling the air and finding its way back into the conversation. “The only thing that’s constant is change. With the songs I’m working on, I really want them to have a narrative within this theme of change, but I also want them to be fucking stupid songs that you can party to…Nothing is guaranteed, so you might as well shake your ass,” they explain, drawing back to our recession pop conversation.
“I really want to do an art gallery [for Volatile], with video art, with zines, highlighting Seattle artists that have helped me along my journey, and Seattle artists that I love. I really love multi-media art, and that really goes into the electroclash thing of different genres and different mediums…that’s where I see artists truly flourishing: when they are truly multidimensional within the mediums they work with…With nu-rave and new nu rave, there’s a big fashion element. There’s a big journalism element with zines and physical media. There’s a really cool artistic collective style.”
Seattle’s growing arts and music scene is already unintentionally falling into this collective multi-media style with a growing presence of innovative fashion designers, a constant circulation of unique zines, and more and more dedicated groups cultivating events and spaces to connect and combine communities. For example, Sofia credits Blograve and rave collective Grime Girls for bringing clubbing to the punk kids, noting how similar the two communities are and expressing a desire to foster even more spaces where they can collide: “I’d love to cultivate bands at clubs and djs at band shows because I think the meshing of the two is really important to get people involved in both scenes, and for there to be more community. I don’t think the punk scene and the electro scene should be separated.”
“I think as long as I’m making art that speaks to me and invokes a thought or a feeling, that makes me feel ambivalent toward the work I am creating, then I am happy and content with the work I’m doing in my sphere,” they conclude. “When I was starting out in this world, I had a lot of dreams of changing it, and as I’ve progressed, my ambitions have gotten smaller. I would love to do all these multimedia arts we’ve been talking about.”
On April 3, 2025, clusters of community members gather in the streets of Pioneer Square for Art Walk, spilling into galleries to celebrate local artists over a glass or two of free-to-low-cost wine. At Baba Yaga, a groovy multi-floor music venue/bar quickly gaining popularity in the local scene, dynamic photos by Rachel Bennett and Bella Petro are displayed on the venue’s exposed brick walls, and the Sofia, Eden and Evan are onstage for their lineup release.
With faces painted chalk white, the trio moves confidently in oversized suit jackets and ties (courtesy of Evergreen Goodwill), and Sofia and Eden don colorful wigs. While the screen behind them loops deep-fried social media brain-rot visuals, Sofiiak echoes sassy vocals over Evan’s impassioned drumming, paired with looping synth tracks. The trio improvs and experiments, gripping the audience by our collars and yanking us through every rise and fall. Serving diva as always, Sofiiak reveals a sparkly two piece under their suit before pouring fake blood all over Eden and themselves while Evan manages the synth and guitar pedals. They roll in the red syrup in the middle of the crowd on a tarp laid out by the venue (good call), holding hands and screaming while blood drips down their foreheads and into their mouths. Then they sit up, look intently into each others’ eyes, and shake hands calmly. No one can look away. The performance is improvisational and authentic to the whims of the performers, and the audience loves it.
As Seattle finds its footing for a new season of sanguine sunshine, navigating our current condition by finding inspiration in new art, communing in new spaces and embracing the experimental and the weird, Sofiiak is ushered into a new era as a musician, begging we catch on and follow suit.
On May 9, 2025, Sofiiak and Blograve are hosting a celebration for the release of Bitch Glitch Edition 2 at Massive with performances by electroclash legends Larry Tee and Princess Superstar. Electroclash is coming to Seattle, and I hope it never leaves.