Musician Spotlight: Masquerade
The Noise Gets Loud
There's a lot of noise surrounding creatives right now. The cacophony of social media and its accompanying exhaustion. The serious threat of AI to artists, linked to deeper issues of deplatforming and miserable streaming payouts for professional musicians. As a Verified Human musician and member of New Bohemia, I am acutely aware of this concerning reality, along with the feelings of helplessness and despair that sometimes wash over me.
All this noise gets so loud at times that something deeply sacred gets drowned out: the transformative process of creating itself.
I believe in the healing power of making music. This is what must cut through all the noise of an increasingly chaotic and isolating world.
Do you remember when curiosity first led you to the pure joy of being creative?
Music Shaped Me
I was prematurely born. When I was eight years old, my parents signed me up for piano lessons which included group recitals and later one-on-one mentoring. These lessons were essential to my physiological development, from movement coordination and creative problem solving, to forming deep connections with others. Then in my teenage years, I picked up guitar and simply haven't put it down since. Thanks to the encouragement of my parents, who bought me my first electric for Christmas, and my best friend at the time, who I wrote my very first punk rock songs with, playing guitar has done wonders for my well being.
Music is certainly therapeutic in its own way. As Masquerade, I make music for fun, learning, and catharsis. This became even more deeply important to me while creating my debut synthpop album Afterlove, released December 19, 2025. I made Afterlove to help me process and make peace in the wake of a devastating breakup with my soulmate.
The seven songs tell the story of heartbreak and healing, saturated by nostalgia with a dark and melancholic undertow. It features catchy guitar riffs, lush synth pads, strong drums, pulsing bass, and my eccentric vocals all wrapped up in velvety production. It's an entirely DIY album. Pre-production, lyric writing, and graphic design ran from early August to mid September 2025. Recording happened in my bedroom studio from September 29 to November 10. Rather than crying myself to sleep, somehow my most earnest lyrics consistently showed up between 1-3 AM.
After 84 recording hours and 14 mixing hours across 42 days, I can say I've learned a lot and achieved intense emotional release. Best of all, the process of making Afterlove afforded me the grace and fortitude I so desperately needed to pull myself together.
People have shared with me that Afterlove is haunting and that it made them cry. Knowing this humbles me. It means I did something right. My music genuinely connected and was cathartic for someone else.
Trust Issues: The Follow-Up
My single Trust Issues, released March 13, 2026, is the direct follow-up to Afterlove, both sonically and thematically. It's the answer to Afterlove's central question: "After love, what's left? After love, what's next?"
The stark yellow and black color scheme for Trust Issues serves as a warning: You've been here before, on the edge of opening up or shutting it all down. You've been through it too many times. And yet...what if it's different this time? Trust Issues is a song for when trust feels like a velvet wrapped dagger.
I guard my heart and don't trust easily. Reflecting on this inspired me to pick up my acoustic guitar and start writing. I had the faintest resemblance of a musical idea just prior to Afterlove's release. It started slower, in the key of F minor, with a basic down-up-up strumming pattern. I didn't have anything else in mind, not a title or a lyric, not even actual words. All of a sudden, I blurted: "I don't trust you!"
Singing that phrase lit a creative fire. Not trusting, while also wondering how trust might be possible again after so much hurt and betrayal, became the core idea.
Turning Experiences Into Songs
The person I am when I begin a songwriting session isn't the same person once that session is done. The process is a transformative experience.
I start by writing songs on guitar or piano, which allows me to hear the song in its purest form. It means I'm not hiding a lackluster chord progression behind layers of production. I can find a melody easier without effects and panning getting in the way. At this beginning stage, I simply pick a key and a chord progression, then play around until something feels right.
From there, I transferred my acoustic progression to electric guitar and began drafting lyrics for Trust Issues. One thing I learned in the women's songwriting circle I joined during the bleak winter of 2016 was that specific, memorable imagery is everything in lyrics, and that redrafting as many times as needed is totally okay. I went through three lyric drafts. My favorite fiery lyrics ended up in the bridge, which didn't even exist in the initial version:
You can say and do / All the right things / But if you aren't for real / It doesn't mean a thing
I was also determined that Trust Issues would feel foreboding. For the listener, there should be a sense of unease, like something wrong is looming. And yet, the harp and violin strings I included deliberately contrast this with a feeling of hope, like sunrise breaking through dark clouds.
During mixing, I liked the sound of four different drum kits and agonized over which one to actually use. My solution was to mix all four, including a riser I built from scratch. I also crafted a saturated, unusual guitar tone and added an attention-grabbing bell, all to reinforce that ominous feeling. Some synth, harp, and string parts sounded too quiet, which required going back and manually drawing volume automation across all 20 tracks. Once done, it was much easier to carve space in the mix for every layer.
Creating Trust Issues deeply reaffirmed the healing power of making music for me.
The More You Make Music, The More It Heals
When I reach a point where I'm writing a song about someone or something, it means I've already gone through the messy emotional processing required to come to terms with it. By the time the song is finished, I've gained more confidence in my skills and found catharsis. The process healed me.
Whenever I create, my love of music comes first. Creativity for its own sake is immensely fulfilling. Making music combines a tremendous amount of skills, from emotional intelligence to project management to musicianship. It involves a deep degree of vulnerability and authenticity, with ourselves as well as our listeners.
When I'm in my flow state, I don't wonder how many people will hear my song or if they'll like it. Any self doubts are drowned out by synths and guitar. I forget about stressors like bills or headlines, if only for a while. I simply and wholly revel in the moment as I create.
The moment I finish a song is one of pure joy. Every song I complete and release is a diary entry along my music journey.
I hope that listeners of Trust Issues can ask themselves: "What does it really take to trust someone again?" and "If I can't trust others, can others really trust me back?"
To keep riding this creative wave throughout 2026, I'll be releasing three singles and two EPs.
The more music I make, the more it heals me. All the rest is just noise.
About the Artist:
Vik (Masquerade) is a DIY, 30-something female songwriter, producer, and lyricist. Music is her love language. As Masquerade, she makes electropunk and post-punk music for fun, learning, and catharsis. She is a Verified Human™ Musician and member of New Bohemia, the world's first digital sanctuary, made by humans, for humans.
Recommended Reading: Audio Engineer Miguel Dembora on Overcoming Perfectionism and Knowing When to Let Go
