From crafting haunting scores for European thrillers to penning queer anthems that ripple far beyond the screen, this composer and songwriter moves fluidly between worlds. Whether building tension through near-silence or channeling raw emotion into indie-pop under the moniker Candy as a Nun, their work is defined by instinct, texture, and a deeply personal use of voice.
With credits spanning Netflix hits, arthouse cinema, and bold standalone projects, they balance emotional truth with experimentation—blurring the lines between orchestral composition, electronic sound design, and intimate songwriting. In this conversation, we explore the story behind “Rosebud,” the freedom of their indie-pop alter ego, the art of scoring suspense without overpowering it, and how they continue to carve out a sound that is both shape-shifting and unmistakably their own.
Your song “Rosebud” became a powerful queer anthem on Netflix’s Woman of the Dead. How did the character and story shape your composition?
Though written for Hayal Kaya’s character, it’s been heartwarming to hear from people worldwide how the song has connected with them—through queer experiences, being adopted, or grieving the loss of an intimate partner. As a queer person, it makes me happy it resonates with queer listeners, but I’m equally glad it reaches anyone for whom it speaks. I tried to keep the song universal; whether it was meant to be political wasn’t a conscious decision. That said, I hope more pop artists make political songs rather than sticking to neutral topics, and I aim to do that myself.
Can you share the inspiration behind your new indie-pop project, Candy as a Nun, and how it differs from your scoring work?
Candy as a Nun is my space to explore ideas – it’s a chance to follow instinct, experiment with pop, rock, indie, and electronic textures, and let songs grow from raw emotion and curiosity. There’s more personal freedom and unpredictability. It’s a playground compared to the structured world of film scoring and serving clients.
Scoring for thrillers like Die Stille Am Ende der Nacht involves tension and suspense. How do you translate that into music without overpowering the story?
It’s about listening to the story first. Music needs to support the drama, not compete with it. I focus on texture, pacing, and timing—using silence as much as sound. Every note or effect is there to heighten the emotion subtly, to guide the audience without overwhelming them. The trick is being expressive while staying invisible until the emotional peak.
Your work has been compared to Mica Levi and Hildur Guðnadóttir. How do you respond to these comparisons, and what unique voice do you feel you bring to your scores?
I’m flattered by the comparison, but it oversimplifies my sound, which is amorphous and adapts to the concept of each project. I aim to recreate myself for every world I’m scoring. My voice—literally and musically—brings a personal, human touch, and I try to balance beauty and unease in ways that reflect my perspective and the emotional heart of each story.
When creating a song tied to real-life figures, like “Satan’s Advice” for Take the Money and Run, how do you balance factual storytelling with artistic interpretation?
I always step into the character’s shoes while writing. Even with real people, my goal is to capture emotional truth over strict biography. It’s a mix of research, imagination, and instinct, letting the story inform the music.
What’s your approach to blending traditional orchestration with electronic and pop elements in your compositions?
I see it as a palette of textures. Each project dictates the balance, but I like to let both worlds interact organically, creating surprises and textures that feel alive and unique.
How does your background in Los Angeles influence your music, especially when working on European TV productions?
LA is diverse and bold, Europe is refined and minimalist. In Europe, my music can mirror the restraint and sophistication I feel from that culture, appreciating simplicity as high art. In America, I feel freer to mash up styles, cultures, and ideas, embracing boldness and risk. I bring this to my European projects, too.
Many of your scores feature layered vocals. What do you find unique or expressive about using the human voice as an instrument in cinematic music?
The voice is part of my body, so it feels intensely personal. It carries an intimacy that instruments alone can’t provide.
With streaming platforms changing how audiences experience TV and film music, how do you see your role as a composer evolving?
My role is to remain authentic to my taste and instincts. Music will always serve the story, but I want to challenge genre norms and keep pushing boundaries. Even in a fast-paced streaming world, slowing down, creating original textures, and honoring emotional truth is what sustains a composer’s voice.
For fans just discovering your music, which track or project would you recommend they start with, and why?
I’d suggest my film score for the Austrian-German series Am Ende – Die Macht der Kränkung, available on streaming platforms. It was my first major project as a solo film composer and really showcases the breadth of my sound: ethereal vocals, synths, beats, orchestral hybrid elements, and pop/indie sensibilities. It also features my first pop song used as an end-credit track, You Could Be. I loved this project whole-heartedly, and it really feels like the foundation to everything that came after, from film music to my songwriting.
