MILYMA’s Grief After All: Sounding Out Silence, Power, And Hope

For MILYMA, Grief after all isn’t just an album title — it’s a state of being transfigured into sound. Known for bending threads of fashion, film, and sonic experimentation into one restless vision, her latest project feels like the purest version of herself yet. From the whispered heartbreak of Fallin’ to the sharp reclamation of He/Him, MILYMA doesn’t just chronicle endings — she remakes them into beginnings.

At the album’s center sits Outro, an improvised mosaic of lyrics, field recordings, and atmosphere. “It felt like the missing piece,” she says. “Like puzzle fragments of everything the record tries to hold.” Improvised vocals meet the hum of unfamiliar cities, a collision of the personal and the anonymous.

Taking Back the Narrative

One of the album’s most striking moments, He/Him, grapples with intimacy and power. For MILYMA, voicing this tension wasn’t a decision but a release. “I stayed quiet out of fear because of men. This song is my way of taking my power back.” That refusal to hold back bleeds into No lovesong, where she dismantles the romance-industrial complex with quiet rebellion. “It’s probably my most honest love song, because it’s not really about anyone,” she admits. Instead, it’s about the performance of closeness, the ache of wanting connection, and the realization of what she will no longer accept.

Nomadic Sound, Nomadic Self

Recorded across six different spaces while constantly moving, Grief after all carries the imprint of dislocation. “Constantly shifting spaces mean you’re always re-adjusting, questioning what’s stable, what’s real,” she explains. That solitude isn’t always loneliness — it’s a silence that can sharpen clarity. This shifting backdrop shaped her inner world as much as the sound, giving rise to diary-like fragments such as Fallin’ and Outro, both written in improvised bursts.

Claiming Space and Shaping Sound

For MILYMA, claiming space isn’t just physical — it’s internal, emotional, and political. “On this album, it’s about giving myself the space to change, and being gentle with myself while doing so.” Yet she also acknowledges the privilege of movement, pointing to the inequalities of immigration systems that deny many the same freedom. That awareness sharpens her project into more than just personal catharsis — it’s an act of authorship that refuses erasure.

Sonically, Grief after all oscillates between ambient softness and sharp defiance, mirroring grief’s duality. Influences like Smerz, Tirzah, and Eartheater echo in her textural play, but what feels uniquely hers is “the sharp mix between my natural vocals and autotune — the tension between the real and the artificial.”

Endings as Beginnings

If there’s one feeling MILYMA wants listeners to leave with, it’s simple: hope. In her hands, grief isn’t static. It’s a shape-shifting process, sometimes tender, sometimes defiant, but always alive. Grief after all doesn’t close a chapter — it opens space for transformation.

Photography courtesy of Soy Prabhawat. 

Purple two piece / black two piece / beige trousers: AUTEL Studio @autelstudio
Black two piece / grey top / grey shoes / beige top: Mascha Berger @prewozny