Part 1

Name: Swan Wisnia aka molto morbidi
Nationality: French
Occupation: Singer, songwriter
Current release: molto morbidi's latest single "Chocolate Ashtray" is out via No Salad. A new full-length album is set to follow in April 2025.
Recommendations: I’d say Martin Eden by Jack London and Juju by Siouxsie and the Banshees. Those are two pieces of art that had such an impact on me when I encountered them at some point in my life that I could be really cliché and say they changed my life in a way. They aren’t the only ones that had this kind of effect, but they’re both really important to me.
 
If you enjoyed this molto morbidi interview and would like to know more about her music, visit her on Instagram, Facebook, and bandcamp.  
 


Do you think that some of your earliest musical experiences planted a seed for your interest in writing lyrics or poetry? How and when did you start writing?

Definitely. I’m French, and French “pop” music (I use the term “pop” as opposed to classical music) is deeply tied to the chanson genre, which is very lyrics-driven.

I grew up in a family where there was a lot of singing at parties. So from a very young age, I learned songs by Jacques Brel, Jean Ferrat, Léo Ferré, and Charles Aznavour, for example. I’d hear comments about how well the lyrics were written and their deeper meanings.



I had a similar education with English lyrics, a tad later, maybe around the age of 10, through my father, who grew up in the late ’50s and ’60s listening to loads of American and British bands.

At every party my parents hosted, he would sing “Sixteen Tons” by Tennessee Ernie Ford and explain the lyrics afterwards to those who didn’t speak English. He’d tell people how the song’s lyrics are a powerful critique of capitalism, conveyed through very simple words. I also have vivid memories of us listening to Bob Dylan in the car and marvelling at the songwriting.



Later, I attended an international high school in a British section, which is when I started writing my first songs. Before that, everything I’d written was purely instrumental. Navigating my teenage years away from home, feeling too many feelings as every teenager should, deepening my appreciation for English songwriting, and improving my English at the same time, all triggered the urge to write in English.

It felt liberating to write in a language that wasn’t my mother tongue. Writing in English made me feel as though I could be anyone and anything I wanted.

Many French artists disdain French musicians who write in English, arguing that it’s merely an imitation of English-speaking bands and that it shows a lack of originality or risk-taking. For me, though, writing in a foreign language gives me a sense of agency that fuels my creativity. In English, I feel free from the emotional baggage and the clichés that I can’t seem to shake off when I try to write in French.

I resonate deeply with Nancy Huston’s perspective on her decision to write in French rather than her native language.

Entering new worlds and escapism through music and literature have always exerted a very strong pull on me. What do you think you are drawn to most when it comes to writing?

I love escapism as a listener and reader, but I think my writing takes the opposite approach. I don’t think I’ve ever created a fantastical world so far removed from reality that it offers a comforting space.

My main concern when I write is authenticity and sincerity. It’s such a platitude that I feel a bit ashamed admitting it, but what I mean is that when you write, there’s always the temptation to create something that makes you appear smart, virtuous, or edgy—in short, to present yourself in a certain light. I try to resist this urge in my writing.

When I revise my work, I scrutinize it to ensure I’m not falling into that trap. And even then, I’m always wary of the possibility that I might have.

I want to be free from self-consciousness, which weighs heavily on me in everyday life, and true to myself and my feelings. I never want my lyrics to create another persona or role for me to play. In that sense, my writing might have an element of escapism—not from the world, but into a space where I can be entirely honest with myself, something that doesn’t always feel possible in real life.

Social norms often demand compromise and role-playing. Rejecting that means accepting the possibility of having the “bad” role and not always appearing as the best version of yourself.



For example, in “Das Geschenk”, I address the feeling of being deeply disappointed by a gift I was given. If you’re a decent person, you’re supposed to suppress that feeling because it seems ungrateful and shameless. I did feel ashamed of those emotions, but I also felt I could write about them.

That being said, there’s always a risk of taking yourself too seriously or approaching things in a way that feels overly heavy or dark compared to the actual seriousness of the problems at hand. I’m an extremely privileged person, and being honest also means acknowledging that fact—ignoring it would be, in itself, indecent.

To navigate this, I often use irony and offbeat humour in many of my songs.

What were some of the artists and albums which inspired you early on purely on the strength of their lyrics? What moves you in the lyrics of other artists?
    
As mentioned above, I grew up listening to iconic French songwriters, and I loved singing along to their music. But something really clicked for me, lyrically speaking, when I discovered Bob Dylan and The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan.

For example, “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright” completely knocked my socks off (and it still does).



The way the lyrics convey a sense of romantic incompatibility without ever being overly explicit about it is incredibly powerful.

Managing to write lyrics that are as impactful in what they say as in what they leave unsaid is something I find really impressive. This subtlety creates space for the listener to connect with the song on a personal level. When I listen to “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright”, I feel like I’m both the person who leaves and the one who’s left behind. I resonate with both perspectives.

I think that’s still what moves me most in song lyrics: the ability to be precise about certain feelings, surroundings, or details, while remaining evocative and open-ended in other aspects. I find that this balance allows the listener to experience something very personal that feels really universal at the same time. That’s something I think  many folk musicians are particularly good at.

The recognition of something so intimate, so personal and singular in someone else’s work of art always feels like a miracle to me.

I have always considered many forms of music to be a form of poetry as well. Where do you personally see similarities? What can music express which may be out of reach for poetry?

Well, I think I’d rather say that some forms of poetry are a form of music.

That happens when a poet focuses primarily on the sound of the words they use. Challenging our conventional use of words in that way is, I believe, one of the poet’s main challenges: to emancipate language from its everyday meanings and usages. Stripping words of their conventional meanings and pushing them towards their sound element is one way to achieve this.

That said, I do think there is a fundamental gap between music and poetry. Words inherently carry meaning; they point to something beyond themselves—to the things they refer to. Music, however, is just sound. And when I say just sound, I don’t mean to diminish what music is. On the contrary, I think that’s precisely where its power lies. Musical sounds aren’t signs; they have an autonomy that words don’t have.

So, if music expresses things, they are of a completely different kind—something that isn’t, in fact, reachable by poetry, because words and music are so very different regarding the way the relate to the world.

The relationship between words and music has always intrigued me. How do you see it? In how far can music take you to places with your writing you would possibly not have visited without it?

Of course, when you think of music and words, the question of what a song is and how words and music work together in a song arises. And on this matter, I think I’m as intrigued as you.

I believe that by now I’ve written over a hundred songs in my life, and the way I combine music and words is something for which I have no explanation—it’s all very, very spontaneous and intuitive and has so many levels. What I can say for sure is that it is very true that some sounds trigger certain words and certain feelings, which are the starting points for some lyrics. Sometimes, it’s rather a word or a feeling that pushes me toward certain sonorities or harmonies.

The way music and words interact when I write convinces me that music does take me to places I couldn’t have visited through words alone, or at least that music puts things in a certain light that changes everything.



One of the things I like to do, for example, is to create a rather upbeat tune that would attenuate the heaviness of certain topics, which is what I did with my song “You Can’t Make an Omelette.”