SPOTLIGHT: MOKINA

Meet Mokina and tune into her newest EP “mirage.”

Mokina, can you take us back to your beginnings, when did songwriting and producing first become part of your life?

I started studying music when I was four—mostly classical piano at first, which really shaped how I hear music. But I think the shift happened around 17, when I began writing and producing songs and releasing my own work. 

Growing up in Montreal, how did your environment shape the way you approach music today?

Montreal has this beautiful mix of cultures and a really vibrant music scene. It’s a city that has so many platforms and opportunities for art to flourish and that doesn’t rush you—it gives you space to experiment, blend genres, languages, and styles without feeling like I had to fit into a box.

How do you balance being both a producer and a singer-songwriter? Does one role ever influence or challenge the other?

The two are completely intertwined. I often start producing as I’m recording an idea, or writing while I’m producing. Sometimes the texture of a sound or the rhythm of a beat will guide the lyrics, or vice versa.

You’ve incorporated multiple languages into your music, what role do language and place play in your creative process?

Language is such a huge part of how I express emotion. I come from an Italian and Egyptian background, I grew up in Montreal where French and English are constantly intermingling, and I live in Portugal. Each language connects me to different roots and emotional landscapes. They all show different sides of who I am, and they find their way into my music almost naturally.

Mirage feels deeply introspective and raw, what sparked the concept behind the EP?

The songs came from a period of deep reflection—unpacking old relationships, identity, and patterns I hadn’t fully confronted before. The idea of a “mirage” came up a lot—something that feels real, but disappears when you get too close. That felt like an anchor for all the stories I was trying to tell.

The EP plays with the idea of illusion that often surrounds romantic connections. What does the word mirage represent for you personally?

For me, mirage is about the ways we trick ourselves into believing we’re the villain—especially in love—when really, we’re just feeling things that are totally human. We cling to ideals that don’t always hold up, sometimes ones that aren’t even ours to begin with. That kind of guilt and emotional suppression doesn’t just affect us—it can spill over and hurt the people we care about too. Mirage is my way of exploring that space between perception and reality, between who we think we are and what’s actually true.

How did living and recording on the Portuguese coast influence the mood and sound of this EP?

There’s something about the ocean that slows everything down. Being on the coast gave me the mental and emotional space to let everything rise to the surface and start unpacking it. There’s also an appreciation for sounds that sit outside the mainstream in Portugal and a rich community to support it. That kind of atmosphere was ideal to create. 

You speak about letting go of guilt and shame tied to womanhood. Was there a specific experience that unlocked those themes for you?

There wasn’t a single moment—it was more like a slow unlearning. But a turning point came when I started questioning whose voices I was internalizing. I realized how much shame I carried that wasn’t mine to begin with. 

To me, the soundscape of the EP is easily earcandy, I found myself resonating with “sinner” devotedly. How did the collaborative process with Jeremy Lachance and Niall Mutter help shape or evolve your vision for the record?

Working with Jeremy and Niall is always so pure. There is this divine kind of flow between us—we don’t have to over-explain anything. Everyone just intuitively knows where the music wants to go. That kind of trust and shared creative wavelength is rare, and it really allowed the songs to become what they were meant to be. 

“Don't wait por mim” stands out with its multilingual title, what story were you telling in that track?

It’s about having to let go of someone you still deeply love. That’s something I had to do more than once in the years before I wrote it. The multilingual title reflects that mix of cultures and emotions. 

Which track from the EP was the most difficult to write emotionally, and which one felt the most cathartic?

I’d say true was the hardest in a way—not because it was painful, but because it was the first one I wrote for the EP, and it started as a love song. Then Jeremy suggested I flip the narrative, and that changed everything. It opened a door. The rest of the songs just poured out after that. They all carried emotion, but none felt “hard” to write—they were all very freeing in their own ways.

The visual components of mirage are stunning. How closely do you work with creatives like Magda Benda to align the visuals with your music’s emotional tone?

From the beginning, Magda and I talked about the themes I was exploring in the music. I came to her with a few ideas and she brought that to life with such precision and artistry. She’s incredibly detailed—there were mood boards, layered ideas, constant experimentation. We shot from the trunk of my car, from the opposite teacup at the fair ride, where she was switching between cameras at every turn. It was playful, intimate, and so creatively fulfilling. 

The EP feels designed to make space for messy, real emotions. How do you hope listeners feel when they sit with mirage?

I hope they feel seen. That they can sit with their own contradictions and not feel like they have to clean them up. 

With mirage now out in the world, what’s next for you creatively? Are there new directions or collaborations you’re excited to explore?

Let's just say I have a few surprises in store very soon! 

Listen to “mirage” here.