Berlin-based Mona Rowey’s music envelopes listeners in an airy, angelic soundscape that captures the essence of nostalgia. We caught up with Mona to talk about her debut single, her creative process and what she’s learnt on her journey as an artist.
Your debut single, Nothing Is Rounder Than the Sun, is out now! Can you share the story behind the song and what it means to you?
"Nothing Is Rounder Than the Sun" was born from a moment of awe during a trip to Morocco. Driving toward a coastal town at sunset, I glanced to my left and saw the most perfectly round sun I’d ever seen. It struck me how something so familiar, something we see every day, can suddenly reveal extraordinary beauty when we truly take the time to notice it.
That sense of discovery parallels the line about someone’s eyes in the song: a reflection of noticing details others might miss, like the faint shade of green in them that no one else ever seemed to see.
Despite how it might sound, this isn’t a love song. It’s about the confusion of falling in love, especially in a fast-paced, transient city like Berlin, where commitment to someone can feel foreign and fleeting. At times, I wished love could be as simple and unburdened as friendship, where saying "I love you" wouldn’t make someone pull away but bring them closer.
The song captures that push-and-pull dynamic: the beauty, the fear, and the bittersweet nature of love in an ever-changing world.
What does your creative process look like when you sit down to write and develop a new song?
I don’t really have a process, or at least I don’t like to call it a process. For me, it only starts with just knowing I want to write a song, but I don’t sit down and tell myself, Okay, now you’re writing a song. That feels forced, and I hate it.
I just love writing so I write most of the time (poetry, journal entries, essays, just random thoughts). Most of it isn’t even intended to become a song. It’s just me getting something out or processing my emotions.
Sometimes, I’ll be playing guitar and strum random, unnamed chords, and suddenly, it clicks. I’ll think, Oh, this sounds great, and I’ll flip through what I’ve written and pick a few words, start to mumble them until they fits the sound of the chords.
The hard part is actually to record it in time when those good melodies really flow out of the creativity before you forget them.
The writing usually happens also randomly, sometimes in those quiet, introspective moments, like when I’m on a night train ride, alone on a rainy evening watching a self-help video, or in a loud setting like in a club or a get together with friends. It’s never, Now I will create. It’s more like these moments sneak up on me, and I let them happen.
What I've noticed about my writing though is that the lyrics are quite personal and I don’t write them with the intention of making them relatable, in fact I don't really care if the listener fully understands them. I feel like what makes writing special is that it’s human, raw, and full of odd, unexplainable choices. AI could never randomly mention something like, “The Gutierez”, or randomly say, “Not a cry... it’s just seasalt leaking from your eyes.” Those moments are mine, and they’re not meant to be perfectly clear. That’s what I love about writing: it’s unpredictable, like me. ;)
You’ve come a long way from covering songs on YouTube to releasing professionally produced music. What has been the biggest lesson from this journey?¨
Be really proud of myself.. even though it took me a while to get there. Funny enough, I never really believed in what I was doing at the start. I didn’t think I was good --or good enough-- and I was secretly terrified of judgment. But what I found out is that no one actually cares as much as you think they do, and most of the time you're the only one who sees your own mistakes. All that worry was in my own head.
At the end of the day, songwriting and releasing music is really just an art of expression that you want to share with others. People who connect with your work, who truly enjoy it, will stay and support you (and to those people: thank you so much <3) and the people who don’t like it don't get to define your work; it just means it’s not their style. And that’s okay. It has nothing to do with you or the value of your art. What matters most really comes down to that you like what you’re doing. That you’re proud of what you create.
Your Thai heritage seems to influence your perspective and storytelling. How has your background shaped your music and identity as an artist?
Absolutely. Growing up in Bangkok, I was surrounded by a very specific kind of environment: most people have got dark brown eyes, straight black hair, similar body and mentality features. It wasn’t multicultural or heterogeneous in the way it is here, where there’s so much diversity in people’s features and backgrounds. Even the nature and seasons are completely different. Bangkok is humid and warm most of the year, filled with skyscrapers, traffic jams, and this constant sense of bustling energy. Here, I’ve noticed the seasons are more distinct, the cities are greener, and everything feels a little calmer (when I first came to Berlin, I thought it was a holiday because it is (compared to BKK) so quiet), so it’s a contrast that really stands out to me and make me notice it easier.
The cultural differences also shape my perspective. One of the biggest things I’m still adapting to is the mentality here: how people approach relationships and how independent the society feels. That sense of individualism is so different from what I’m used to, and it influences how I think about connection, community, and even creativity.
Sometimes, I also find myself writing about things that might be considered taboo back home—topics people don’t usually talk about openly. And honestly, I do think about it because my family listens to my songs. It’s always in the back of my mind! But then I tell myself, it’s fine as long as my grandma doesn’t understand English (laughs)
What message or feeling do you hope listeners take away after hearing your music, especially your debut single?
I hope that when people listen to my music, they feel a sense of nostalgia and dreaminess—like it’s a companion when they’re alone. I want it to feel like a portal, where you put on your headphones and it takes you to another dimension, or when you blast it in your car, and the bass hits so hard you can see the speakers buzzing.
More than anything, I hope it motivates someone to take a leap, to try something they’ve been scared of—whether it turns into a lesson or a success. At the end of the day, "it is fine, it’s our first time being alive" :).
Image credits: Laura von Albert