Lisa Lindal

Bordering between bittersweet pop and melodramatic blues, my music is a sort of suicidal piano lounge appropriate for the decadent and depressed. 7 out of 10 people compare me to Tori Amos, while the other three compare me to one of my other little cute piano-playing doppelgangers overseas. If you feel compelled to compare me to whomever you want me to be, that’s fine.



I earn a living by singing at the piano for drunks, breeders, babies, and corpses. My mother once described me as a walking Lars Norén play, which implies that I should prefer the deceased audiences. Perhaps, but I generally perform for the living. It pays better, and the love flows a lot easier.



I grew up on a little island called Lidingö, a wealthy ghetto outside of Stockholm which is known for its extremely rich and good-looking people. The exceptions of course being me and my family.
At the age of 19 I was banished from the island, and since that day Ive been wandering the cold-shouldered and well-dressed streets of Stockholm in search of a god, love, and recognition.



My songs are my vitality. Without their sustenance, I wouldnt bother to get out of bed in the afternoon.



Love in every form, flavor, and fashion!



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