Back in the early 2000s, the industrial scene was on fire—chaotic, raw, and unapologetically loud. It was in that searing crucible that Unter Null was forged, the brainchild of an artist straddling classical music training and a deep fascination with sonic destruction. Raised on piano, cello, and choir, she’d been composing her own pieces since childhood. But it was the visceral aggression of powernoise and industrial that gripped her soul. The controlled chaos was intoxicating, a vehicle to exorcise emotions that polite concert halls could never contain.
Armed with Cubase and a Yamaha CS2X, she began sculpting the project that would become Unter Null—a collision of elegance and entropy, beauty and brutality.
The name itself—Unter Null, German for “below zero”—emerged as a tongue-in-cheek jab at her own self-esteem. A way to wear vulnerability like armor. “I struggled a lot growing up,” she admits. “It wasn’t some profound branding decision. It was just honest.” But over time, that phrase became more than a label; it became a mantra for transmutation—of pain into power, of failure into fuel.
Albums like The Failure Epiphany and Moving On are brutal emotional snapshots, soaked in the toxic residue of broken relationships and internalized shame. “I didn’t have a grasp on boundaries back then,” she reflects. The Failure Epiphany captured that spiral of self-doubt. But Moving On marked a shift—an album born of personal reckoning and emotional liberation. That record was nearly lost in a studio fire, and only the salvaged hard drives kept it from being incinerated. “That near-loss felt symbolic,” she says. “It mirrored the themes of survival woven through the music.”
While Unter Null remained her aggressive outlet, a new project emerged when a quieter pain needed expression. That project—Stray—was born during a particularly dark period. “The first song I wrote, ‘Does It Really Matter?,’ just didn’t fit with Unter Null,” she says. “It came from a place of vulnerability and empathy rather than rage.” Stray became the space for her softer introspections, standing in contrast to Unter Null’s sonic fury.
Through it all, music remained her emotional life raft. “I’ve never been great at expressing myself any other way,” she says. “Writing has always been instinctive—like a direct channel.” But she’s quick to acknowledge that even music can’t do all the heavy lifting. “It’s not a substitute for taking care of your mental health. You have to consciously work on that too.”
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After a period of creative dormancy, the embers were reignited through a long-overdue collaboration. Enter Hollow—a joint effort with Frontal Boundary that resurrected something vital in her. “It felt like we had just hit ‘pause’ and pressed ‘play’ again,” she says of reuniting with Brendin Ross, Krz Souls, and Jaysen Craves. Their synergy was electric, natural, and deeply satisfying. “It reminded me how essential it is to have inspiring, creative people in your circle.”
The track Hollow is a lyrical deep-dive into the psyche of damaged individuals unaware of their own brokenness. “Krz and I wrote it together. It’s about how unhealed trauma can ripple out and wound others,” she explains. Sonically, it blends weight and melody, aggression and emotion—a hallmark of both projects. “That contrast is what makes it work.”
Though she’s returned to the scene, she admits the landscape has changed dramatically. “When I first started, everything was different—especially the connection with fans,” she says. “Social media has reshaped everything.” But through that evolution, she’s found a deeper appreciation for her long-time supporters. “Seeing their excitement about my return has been so moving. I do this for them.”
The experience of releasing music in 2025 is far removed from the gritty underground scene she came up in. “There’s more competition now, but that’s not a bad thing,” she insists. “More people creating music means more voices being heard.” Even the sense of community has shifted. “It doesn’t feel so cutthroat anymore. Artists are lifting each other up, and it’s refreshing.”
With Hollow generating buzz, fans are already eager for more. A special SoCal show on May 26th with SITD will feature both Unter Null and Frontal Boundary, including a live performance of Hollow and a preview of new Unter Null material.
She’s also gearing up to release a brand-new single, Coming Up To Breathe, via Alfa Matrix Records on April 4th. “Unter Null is back in full swing,” she confirms. “Stray will follow, but I try to keep the two separate so they each get the space they deserve.”
Creatively, she’s steering Unter Null in a new direction—one marked by self-empowerment rather than self-destruction. “There’s still darkness, but now it’s about resilience and growth,” she says. Collaborations are fueling that shift, with upcoming projects involving Dawn of Ashes and remix work with Funker Vogt. “It’s exciting to see how each artist brings something unique to the table.”
And what does she want fans to take from all of it?
“I’m back. The sound might be different, more refined—but the core is still there,” she says. “Don’t ever let anyone take away your autonomy or make you feel like you’re not good enough. Stay true to yourself. Always.”
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