“In my fantasies, I always wanted to be a rock and roll singer.”
That’s Kristin Witko, set to release her debut LP Zone of Exclusion on June 28. Since the release of 2017’s Union, Witko has made a concerted effort to both engage the music community in the Fraser Valley and push herself outside her comfort zone. Those who’ve seen her perform, in full white face paint and often theatrical outfits, might find it surprising that Witko has worked hard to overcome what she calls her natural shyness.
“It’s very common for people to have a fear of public speaking,” she says. “If you’re standing in front of a crowd, throughout most of human experience that would mean that people were about to stone you. It’s a very primal fear.”
While shyness might contradict her formative rock and roll aspirations, Witko’s latest live performances, with their comparatively high production value within Abbotsford’s music scene (a largely DIY community), are both an assertion over her fear and an expression of her insecurities.
“When you stand on stage and perform,” she says, “if you’re a stand-up comedian or a musician, and people don’t throw stones at you, you think: I’ve conquered death.”
Moments later, Witko will describe her live performance in terms of compensation.
“I’ve never felt it was good enough for me to get up on stage and just perform music,” she says. “I had a basic level of insecurity, where I felt I have to present a dynamic live performance.”
Witko’s theatricality, evident explicitly in both her performances and lyricism, reflects a tension that fuels her output. Zone of Exclusion, when compared to its predecessor, is more combative, more assertive. “That’s My Name,” one of the standout tracks on the record, morphs from an electronic-based alt-pop number to near chaos which evokes equal parts ABBA and a nail gun being fired with wild abandon at a sheet of metal. This kind of brutal positivity is, in part, due to Witko’s writing process, which will see her conjure up characters that animate the energy of what she’s trying to create.
“For ‘That’s My Name,’ I had the character of a motivational speaker in my mind,” says Witko. “Basically teaching people how to be more narcissistic.”
The energy and physical freedom that Witko displays on stage as a result of throwing herself into her performances, has, on some level at least, impacted the people around her.
“It’s not uncommon when I perform for younger women to come up to me and say that it was cool for them to see someone behaving in such an unabashed manner,” says Witko. “I would really love, especially younger women growing up with social media, for people to explore that sense of freedom. And try to create space for it in their lives, where they’re not thinking about being surveilled.”
Witko’s latest release, which, while full of hooks and undeniably danceable, blends the pop sensibilities of her earlier releases with a much more clearly defined grit, one that’s audible in the swagger that punctuates her delivery on tracks like “This Is For Free” and “That’s My Name,” the latter of which bursts open half way through with a chorus that’s vaguely reflective of Witko’s personal ethos. (“I’m teaching lessons in supposition,” she croons at one point.) Despite her focus on building confidence in the face of self-doubt or societal pressures, Witko’s overall message is one of endurance rather than rejection.
“I think more than making a mark on the world, people should be thinking about how to become more resilient in the face of change,” she says. “It’s kind of ironic for someone who’s involved in this narcissistic pursuit of making art and presenting myself, but honestly, the tradition we have of making ourselves into icons and demanding choral attention, is, I think, fading away. I think people are going to derive much more satisfaction from their lives if they focus on building resilience within communities.”
Find Zone of Exclusion on your preferred streaming service and at record stores near you on the morning of June 28, and come out to the record’s release party at Atangard on July 19.
Image: Simon Bridgefoot
