In a world teetering on collapse, Kimmortal (they/them) dares to build something sacred—a place where queer, diasporic weird kids belong. Their music is more than sound; it’s resistance, memory, and reclamation wrapped in lush harmonies and hard-hitting lyricism. With a sound that blends lofi hip hop, soul, spoken word, and experimental theatre, the Filipinx, non-binary artist is crafting a sonic universe for the emotionally awake and unapologetically alive.

This spring, Kimmortal continues their meteoric rise with a tour across the U.S. and Canada and plans to release a steady stream of new music—including a highly anticipated collaboration with acclaimed rapper Shad K. It’s the next evolution of a voice that’s already left an indelible mark on stages from SXSW to Reeperbahn, from Winnipeg Pride to Junofest.

Born in Surrey, BC to a portrait artist from Negros Occidental and a trailblazing mother from Pangasinan, Kimmortal grew up on the unceded lands of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh Nations. That layered, liminal identity—Filipino, settler, queer, artist—permeates every lyric, beat, and brushstroke of their work.

Their most recent album, Shoebox (2023), is a vulnerable and defiant offering: a collection of meditations on intergenerational trauma, queer joy, ancestral memory, and healing. The title nods to the boxes where we store both pain and keepsakes—an apt metaphor for Kimmortal’s multidimensional soundscape. With tracks like the viral “This Dyke” (which aired on The L Word: Gen Q) and “Stop Business As Usual” (a rallying cry for the Free Palestine movement), Kimmortal proves that every beat can be a battleground—and a balm.

“These songs are reflections on how weird it is to be human,” Kimmortal says. “To exist, love, and create during a time of global crisis.”

It’s a sentiment woven deeply into tracks like “K I’m Mortal” and “Blue and Orange” (which won Audience Choice for Best Music Video at the Oregon Asian American Film Festival). With each release, they shape-shift between the personal and the political, the celebratory and the sorrowful—never flinching from complexity.

With a BA in Visual Art & Art History, and a rich background in theatre (Urban Ink, Frank Theatre Co.), Kimmortal’s work has always transcended medium. Their 2019 concept album X Marks the Swirl tackled themes of queerness, displacement, and solidarity through a visual and lyrical motif of the “swirl”—a symbol of multiplicity and motion. That project was long-listed for the Polaris Prize, named one of CBC’s Top 19 Albums of 2019, and earned a nomination at the Breakout West Music Awards.

A 2022 shoutout from Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez for their feminist anthem “Sad Femme Club” introduced them to a broader U.S. audience, and they’ve only grown more fearless since.

As 2024 unfolds, Kimmortal continues to make room—for their community, for grief, for joy, and for a future that dares to look different. New music, including their single with Shad K, is on the way. They’re also bringing their genre-defying live show to cities across the continent, offering a shared space of sonic liberation.

For Kimmortal, being an artist isn’t about escape—it’s about invocation. Their work calls us home to ourselves and each other. And in these chaotic times, that might be the most radical thing of all.

 

“Shoebox” is such a vulnerable and layered album. What personal or ancestral memories inspired the title and concept behind it?

Some glimpses of memories behind the title and concept – a shoebox of memories I was going through during the early years of the pandemic: living in a shoebox in my twenties spiralling and infatuated (k I’m mortal). My partner and I moved out of Vancouver closer to the forests which I walked through daily and I was learning about Filipino folk tales linked to the land (the balete tree on the front cover made by a claymation artist). Conceptualizing and Making new music on zoom with my friends (ancient, this dyke).

You blend hip-hop, visual art, theatre, and spoken word into your performances. What does your creative process look like when fusing so many mediums?

  • I usually have to make sure the concept or idea for a song shines so bright it has to flood outside of the song into visuals and fashion and theatre. I sometimes sketch what I imagine wearing or I start moving like the feeling of the song, and the cadence of the words have to match it all too.

“Sad Femme Club” received a shoutout from AOC—how did that moment impact you emotionally and artistically?

I was about to give up on music before I got a notification from a friend saying open instagram. I got a flood of more followers particularly from the US. That moment just made me realize how my music transcends borders and reaches …lol…politicians. But yeah since learning about AOC being silent about Gaza I have retracted her membership in the sad femme club.

Your music often explores queerness, diaspora, and decolonization. How do you stay rooted in joy and healing while engaging with such heavy themes?

  • I’m a very silly person, ask all my close friends or even ppl who see me for the first time – I love making ppl laugh and sharing humor. Grief process requires that switching to love through similar to hydrotherapy and music is a wild force that can journey you from dark to light and balance you or affirm your twisted mind.

Your work has been featured in everything from “The L Word: Gen Q” to the CBC series “Sort Of.” Do you think about TV & film placements when writing your music? 

  • For the most part No, but since I’ve been getting more scoring opportunities – I have started to think cinematically. But for this dyke – I did have the intention of creating a song that would play at queer parties in east van and the dream came true and went beyond that. I never thought the song would end up on an orgy scene for “the L word” and most recently on a scene of slugs having sex in the documentary “Animal Pride”. The sky’s the limit I suppose.

What does it mean to you to be a queer Filipinx artist performing on stolen Indigenous land, and how does this awareness shape your work and presence on tour? 

  • Humility, pride, deep rooted love

Performing on Indigenous land carries a deep responsibility- i try to bring gratitude and radical honesty into every space I enter. I learn a lot through the Filipinx diaspora artists around me in how they take time to think about their intentions when creating art on indigenous land in the bodies we are in – i queer sound by trusting the knowledge in my bones as a Filipino artist and a queer artist. As a hip hop artist the responsibility to foster solidarity with Indigenous and Black communities and love on me/my culture is key & rooted in decolonial love and queer/trans liberation—so yeah reimagining what art, performance, and resistance can be in a world that needs collective transformation is the root.

The swirl motif in “X Marks the Swirl” is such a powerful symbol. How do you continue to explore and reimagine that symbol in your more recent work?

The swirl continues to be a portal, time travel, the journeying within music, how I am in constant flux. A few years ago after my last show in LA when I was feeling proud and happy, my friend pointed to the ceiling and said – look we’re standing under a swirl. I looked up and it felt like affirmation. Patterns we notice and affirm that we are meant to be here.

You’ve opened for legendary artists like Thundercat and Saul Williams. What’s one unforgettable lesson or moment you’ve taken away from those experiences?

I just remember Thundercat belching during his soundcheck and just being himself. He was wearing a red cape backstage and I told him he smelled good which made him laugh. Score. I saw how hard his team worked, including one of his team members collapsing backstage and it was a moment where I was like – damn I don’t want that, ppl working with me to be so burnt out. I want care to be centered.

I was lucky to be included in a lineup to open for the great Saul Williams. Thanks to vancouver poet/visionary Jillian Christmas! Saul came right up to my merch table and bought one of my colouring books! He was so graceful and stoic and kind. I admired that and won’t forget how I saw him quietly waiting at the front of the wise hall in vancouver for a taxi with his hat and briefcase after the show.

You mention wanting to make ‘queer and diasporic weird kids feel like they belong.’ What’s something you’d say to those kids who are just discovering your music now?

I would say, “do you know how incredible your twisted mind is? I hope you follow it into the winding playgrounds and lush jungles and I hope you follow your heart.

Looking ahead to your shows across North America and your upcoming collab with Shad K—what can fans expect next from Kimmortal’s world?

  • Collab with shad is already out!
  • I am reimagining my live set with my friend Miles Wong as a duo set – drums and vox/sp404. Expect jazzy hip hop created with my talented band mates Matt yang, Feven Kidane, miles and me- in my newest single “I just wanna know”