In an industry that often prizes image over integrity, Slovak-born singer-songwriter Karin Ann has built her career on a different kind of visibility, one grounded in honesty, social awareness, and self-definition. Emerging from Central Europe’s evolving alternative scene, she’s become a generational voice for young listeners navigating questions of gender, identity, and belonging in a world that still leans on outdated norms. Her songs, often soft-spoken but emotionally forthright, speak to the quiet rebellion of choosing oneself.
Following her acclaimed 2024 debut album “through the telescope”, which explored themes of gender equality, queer identity, and mental health, Karin returns with a sound that reflects both maturity and liberation. Her new single, “i was never yours,” co-written with Suki Waterhouse, Harrison Whitford, and Chelsea Balan, and produced by Benjamin Lazar Davis (Maya Hawke), signals a turn toward folk and Americana, genres historically rooted in storytelling and social truth-telling. For Karin, this sonic shift isn’t simply about exploring new styles; it’s about reclaiming space for the personal in the political.
The song’s themes of freedom, choice, and self-determination mirror Karin’s lived experience as a queer woman from a conservative background. Her lyrics question traditional expectations around love, marriage, and motherhood, while offering solidarity to those who feel confined by social scripts they never agreed to. In a cultural landscape where conformity still dominates, especially for young women in Central and Eastern Europe, Karin’s openness feels radical in its refusal to conform quietly.
Outside of music, her storytelling continues through film and visual art. Her cinematic collaborations with directors TUSK and appearances alongside actors like Ashley Moore and Gus Kenworthy have earned critical recognition, including festival awards for Best Music Video. Most recently, she appeared in the miniseries The Tattooist of Auschwitz, an experience that connected her to her region’s complex historical memory and her belief in art’s role in collective remembrance. For Karin, art is both expression and responsibility, a means to confront silence, whether around identity, mental health, or history itself.
Kirsten: “I was never yours” blends folk, country, and rock with a cinematic feel. What inspired this new sound, and how did writing with co-writers like the fabulous Suki Waterhouse and Harrison Whitford shape the song’s direction?
Karin Ann: I always loved a lot of the folky sort of music. I always love storytelling. It’s in, you know, a lot of different forms. Storytelling is so important to me. And I always approach my music in a very storytelling way, and folk is the most storytelling genre that there is, in my opinion.
I feel like now I’m just kind of getting back to my roots of what I loved the most growing up, and what I grew up a lot around, because I used to go camping with my family, and there would be family friends and stuff, and we would always sit around the fire. One friend would always play guitar and play songs on the guitar, and it was always these folkier Czech songs, specifically, because my mom is Czech, and these friends were Czech.
But yeah, I always loved that vibe, and now I also feel like I finally have the confidence in my storytelling abilities and in my vocabulary enough to kind of explore that genre a little bit more, because English is not my first language. It’s kind of like a daunting task to try to, you know, come up with metaphors or try to tell a story without being too literal, or understanding metaphors and a lot of different things that go into it when it’s not your first language, that I didn’t really feel confident in until now.
But I think that’s kind of what inspired this shift a little bit. I think it’s a very natural progression of my music from my album, because my album already went into that direction a little bit, but now it’s just kind of more intensified. So I don’t think it’s too much out of left field, but that’s kind of what inspired that shift, I guess.
And in terms of the collaboration, I mean, it’s always, you know, you can never tell what a song would be if it wasn’t made the way it was. So, you know, it is the song that it is because I collaborated with Harrison and Chelsea and Suki, and it was such a fun session. Honestly, it’s a really good feeling when things just kind of click and when the creative chemistry works really well, and that’s what happened here.
I had the first verse of the song in my notes, in my voice memos, and when we went into the session, we were kind of like, okay, what are we going to write about? And I was like, you know, I have this verse in my phone that I keep coming back to, and I just can’t figure out where I want to take it. So I played it for them, and everybody was so excited about it, and we made the whole demo—basically the scratch demo—in half a day. It was a very fast process, and it was super fun, and I’m really happy with it. And yeah, again, I was really stuck on this song. I didn’t know where I wanted to take it, so I’m really glad that they helped me figure it out.
Kirsten: The lyrics of “I was never yours” confront expectations, for example, lines about leaving instead of marrying with kids and choosing freedom over comfort. How do these themes reflect your own experiences, and what message do you hope listeners take away?
Karin Ann: It was a very freeing process for me. I grew up in a place that kind of has a lot of old-fashioned expectations on people, especially women. You know, a lot of people that I went to school with, that I went to high school with, are married with three kids now, and I’m like—you’re still a child! You’re like 23, you’re 22, like, what are you doing?
And it’s like, you know, to each their own—if that’s what you want to do, that’s what you want to do. But I feel like a lot of people where I’m from don’t do it because it’s what they want to do, but because they weren’t really given another option, or shown another way of doing things, so they never really thought about it.
And I’m the type of person that never wanted kids. Ever since I was old enough to grasp the reality of it, I was like, this is not what I want to do with my life. This is not who I want to be. Especially also when you look at how our society perceives mothers and women in general, it’s just like—if you’re a mom, in the eyes of the world, it’s all you become. You’re a mom, and that’s it. That’s your identity.
And I don’t want to be that. I have my own life and I have things that I want to do and things I want to achieve and things I want to see. Not to mention that, unfortunately, a lot of people aren’t ready to be parents and aren’t ready to kind of set up their child for success, or they don’t have kids for the right reasons, and it reflects on that human’s life.
And I feel like also it’s kind of a little bit selfish of people to just get married and have kids just because that’s what you’re supposed to do, or just because they want a mini version of themselves. I know it’s a controversial topic, but I feel like I wouldn’t be a good mom. I know that I’m too independent and too kind of overstimulated very easily—that if I don’t have my alone time, I’m gonna go crazy. Having to take care of somebody and them being my responsibility is crazy to me.
And yeah, I never wanted that life. But it’s something that’s always been pushed on me—as on a lot of others, probably every woman ever, honestly. And also, in terms of dating, I’m queer, so I date both women and men, but when you date a man, a lot of the times they want kids just because they want to be a dad, and it’s like their little accessory, and they just don’t get what it means for the woman.
And I guess I just wanted to write something that came from my own experience dating somebody, and that also could show people who maybe didn’t really have a different lifestyle shown around them to maybe hear it and be like, “Oh, I relate to that.” You know, like, I always felt like this, and I wasn’t able to find my people around me that felt the same or were okay with it.
And you know, maybe it helps them realize that it is okay to want something else—to want something different. So yeah, it was a very freeing process, and I hope that when people hear it, it feels like freedom to them, and it, you know, maybe helps them find a little bit of freedom in their own life.
Kirsten: Your debut album through the telescope tackled issues like gender equality, queer identity, and mental health. Do these social themes continue to influence your songwriting now, and how do you see your role as an artist in those conversations?
Karin Ann: Being queer is a part of my identity, as well as having mental health struggles. It’s something that’s been a part of my life, and it’s always going to be a part of my life. So I think that those things are always going to inform my art and how I move through the world.
And in terms of being an artist, I think it’s any person with eyes on them and with a platform’s responsibility to talk about things that are important and that need to get normalised—things that maybe are a little bit stigmatised.
Because I know from my experience that I didn’t really have a lot of people that I could look up to that I felt like I could relate to growing up. And I feel like it would’ve been really helpful—it would’ve helped me deal with certain things a lot earlier, and maybe it would’ve helped me be a little bit better adjusted going into adulthood and into the world.
Not having that and kind of having to tackle things on your own or having to figure them out a lot later—it’s not to say it’s impossible to do later, but it’s obviously helpful to see it and to talk about it earlier.
Especially when it comes to really dark things, like if somebody is struggling with suicidal thoughts or with their queer identity to the point of suicidal thoughts or anything like that—seeing that it’s okay and that there are people like that and there are people that want to help you—I think it’s really important for people to destigmatize these things and to be open about them, even though it’s scary and vulnerable.
You never know how some people are going to react. Some people might really just be horrible about it—but, you know, those people are not the people that you want around. So I think it’s every person with a platform’s responsibility to talk about important things.
Kirsten: Critics note that your new music is more folk-leaning and rootsy compared to the gothic disco-rock of your debut. What led you to explore Americana, bluegrass, and folk influences, and how do they fit with the stories you want to tell?
Karin Ann: I think I kind of just touched on this in the first answer. It’s something that I’ve always had around and that I’ve gravitated towards. And to me, it’s a very natural progression of my music—from my album to this sort of new era.
I also never like to do the same thing twice or get stuck in a stagnant place, because it makes you kind of uninspired. It makes you a little bit like, “I’m just doing the same thing over and over again,” and it becomes less fun.
I like exploring different avenues of what I can do and what still feels like me. I think my album did a really good job of that, and now this new era of music is doing a really good job of that.
Kirsten: You mentioned being proud of your Central European, Czech, and Middle Eastern heritage. How do your cultural roots influence your music or songwriting, if at all?
Karin Ann: I mean, growing up in Slovakia, which is culturally very Eastern European, that in itself informs who I am, and that, in turn, informs my artistry in a certain way. Same with my Czech and Middle Eastern heritage—it’s a part of who I am and a part of how I grew up, and maybe what things I had around me that inform it a little bit.
Moving forward, I am trying to maybe incorporate it a little bit more, because growing up, again, in a kind of more conservative place, it was kind of scary to talk about certain parts of my heritage. But I think it’s very important for people to know where they’re from and to not forget it or repress it, because that’s how colonisation happens—not to get too political.
And I feel like, especially now in the times that we’re in, it’s very important for people to talk about where they’re from and their roots and their traditions, and to not forget them just because some people tell you to.
Kirsten: Your music videos are very cinematic—directed by TUSK, co-starring actors like Ashley Moore and Gus Kenworthy. How do visuals and collaboration on film projects contribute to the narratives in your music?
Karin Ann: Like I mentioned before, I’m a very storytelling-driven person, and I think that there is space to show it in the music to an extent, but there’s so much bigger space to show it in the visual side of things.
So I always say the main point of the storytelling is in the song itself, and then if I have the possibility and opportunity to make a visual for it, I just kind of expand on that same story in a bigger way.
I’ve always loved acting. I grew up around a lot of musical theatre, which obviously has music and acting and movement intertwined. So to me, it’s a very natural process to be able to show something on a bigger scale.
And I always wanted to act, so that’s another thing that’s very fun to do in those visuals. But yeah, it’s a very important part of the process for me. If I could, and if I had unlimited budgets, I would do it for every single song—but obviously I cannot do that.
I hope that people like what I create, because I kind of create these little worlds for the songs. So I hope that people like that world-building.
Kirsten: You talked about acting—and we did some research. You also act, most recently as Maria in the miniseries The Tattooist of Auschwitz. What was that like? Can you tell us about that experience?
Karin Ann: That was my first role, and it was kind of a crazy process, honestly. It was my first or second self-tape ever, and I got a callback for a different part. Then I booked that different part that was a little bit bigger, but unfortunately, there was a scheduling conflict because I was working on my album at that time, and I had to go to America to record it.
So I wasn’t able to do the part I was originally supposed to do, but luckily for me, I was still able to do at least a little cameo in it, because it’s such an important show and such an important topic.
I grew up in Slovakia, so I grew up in a place that was heavily affected by the events of World War II and genocide. So I think that it’s something we definitely need to speak about and continue to show, because people have a tendency to forget.
And so I’m really honoured and really proud that I was able to be a part of that show, even in a small capacity.
Since then, I have been able to shoot two indie movies. One is going to premiere next month, I think, so that’s really fun, and another one I shot this May, which I’m not sure when it’s going to come out.
But yeah, I definitely want to do more acting, and my ultimate dream is to do musical theatre. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to do a little bit of that.
I’m really proud of all of the stuff I do. I don’t say yes to projects that I don’t feel passionate about.
Kirsten: You’ve become known for speaking openly about LGBTQ issues and mental health. How do you balance writing such personal, intimate songs while addressing broader social or community topics? Where do you find the line between these two?
Karin Ann: I don’t know, I don’t think I really have a line. I have a very strong sense of morality, and if I see wrongdoings being done, I talk about it.
I tend to not really care about the consequences of that, as in—if I’m going to talk about this, maybe I’ll lose some followers because they don’t agree. But I’m kind of the person that’s like, if you think that these things I’m talking about being wrong are actually right, then I genuinely don’t want you around. Because I know that we would not even get along as people, so why would I want you to come to my shows or to talk to me?
I have a very strong sense of morality, and I know that some people are cautious about these things because they’d rather have X amount of followers from any side and remain neutral. But I’m not that type of person.
I’m the type of person that’s like—we can disagree about what flavor of ice cream you like. We can disagree about what TV shows we like. We cannot disagree about human rights and about who deserves to be able to vote or who deserves to be alive. I’m sorry, but we cannot disagree about that.
That’s crazy to me—that some people think like that. So I always will be talking about these things very openly, and I will always stand up for what I think is right.
Kirsten: You’ve been praised for your honest lyrics and genre-spanning style. How do you maintain authenticity and a clear voice while experimenting across different genres and sounds?
I think it just comes down to me being honest with myself at the time of making something. You know, I started making music really young—I started at 14, and now I’m 23. So obviously I went through different phases of life and different changes in who I am and how I move through the world.
But for me, it’s always really important to maintain authenticity and kind of—this is how I feel in this given moment. And I think my music does a really good job of that.
I think that’s maybe also why people don’t really mind me experimenting with different genres and trying different things, because they know that each of those eras is honest and feels like me at the time.
Karin Ann’s work bridges deeply personal experience with broader cultural critique, revealing how individual choices can become social acts. When she sings about refusing conventional roles, she’s not simply asserting independence; she’s creating space for others to imagine a different kind of freedom.
In a time when global pop culture still struggles to platform non-Western, queer, and multilingual voices, Karin represents a shift toward inclusivity that doesn’t flatten complexity. She carries her Czech, Slovak, and Middle Eastern roots into her music—not as ornamentation, but as a living context that shapes her sound and outlook. Her growing success suggests that authenticity, when paired with intention, can travel farther than conformity ever could.
As Karin Ann moves between songwriting, acting, and activism, her work continues to challenge how artists are expected to exist publicly, especially women who refuse to perform softness or silence. Her voice steady, reflective, and unapologetically human echoes a broader social awakening among young creatives who see art not just as expression, but as a tool for collective understanding.
For Karin, that may be the real evolution: less about genre, more about purpose. Through every lyric and every story, she’s rewriting what it means to belong on her own terms, and for a generation learning to do the same.
