IN CONVERSATION WITH KREWELLA

interview by JANA LETONJA

Krewella is the boundless electronic duo composed of sisters Jahan and Yasmine Yousaf.  Always experimental, they’ve carved out their own niche in EDM. Known for pushing the boundaries of genre and storytelling, the Yousaf sisters return with an experience that channels raw emotion, cultural duality, and spiritual connection. Their new single called ‘Crying On The Dance Floor’ was released yesterday, on their anniversary of the day they decided to drop their careers and pursue music.

Can you tell us about the emotional and creative journey behind your new era of music?

Jahan: It seems that with every body of work, we walk further from the part of us that once created from a place of pressure and unsustainable time constraints, and take steps closer to a very sacred, yet childlike, creative process that is informed by us being more attuned to our inner world. Both of us have been very dedicated to working on ourselves personally, which brings up dormant emotions and ancient memories to the surface. Contrary to a culture that’s speeding up in content creation, we have found that our jobs as artists become easier when we slow down and process life experiences, connect with ourselves, each other, and nature, and reflect. I’m currently reprogramming my beliefs around the idea that expression and creative work can come from a more grounded nervous system, rather than through force, rushing against the clock, and constant striving. 

As far as the creative process, sometimes the music comes unexpectedly and inconveniently, like a whispered voice note in the middle of the night when I’m sleepless and spiraling. Or, sometimes Yasmine might come to me with a chorus idea and an almost finished beat, and then I join to finish it together. Sometimes we’re on road trips with the laptop plugged into the car speakers, where I’m behind the wheel, and Yasmine is in the passenger seat driving Ableton. We’re excited to continue writing in random places or while on adventures.

Your new single, ‘Crying On The Dance Floor’, dropped on a deeply personal anniversary. How does that date shape the meaning of the song?

Yasmine: Whether we engage about it publicly or not, every year on June 8th is a point of deep reflection for us. It’s an opportunity to look back on our history, at the heavy trials, but also the extreme highs that we’ve experienced. What started as a shared dream between three artists and their young manager, transformed into many variations, the current one being two sisters who are still dreaming together in such a wildly parallel sense that it’s a wonder we ever worked any other way than we are now. 2025 marks 15 years since our original dedication day. We remember and honor who we were then, surrounded by different faces and collaborators, and celebrate who we are today, more attuned to ourselves and each other than ever. This slow process of becoming, in which we focused heavily on the non-business aspects of our relationship as sisters and companions during our 3+ year hiatus, has helped us reach the point of ‘Crying On the Dancefloor’. It’s part then, part now, and part wherever we are headed. As much as it’s alluring to become fully swept up in nostalgia, we wanted to toe the line of the Yasmine and Jahan in 2010, who were taking the plunge into complete newness, while still asking the versions of 2025, where would you like to go from here.

Vulnerability seems to be at the core of your new work. What’s it like to channel such personal emotions into something as public as a dance track? 

Jahan: Yes, vulnerability has become a north star for us. It is something terrifying yet expansive. Even with our dearest loved ones, the thought of dropping our walls to express the thoughts we find most dark, shameful, or petty feels like it would reveal us to be fragile and weak. Whenever I challenge myself to express, to someone I trust, what I’ve been struggling with or suppressing, an opening happens. I find that our most successful music-making moments follow those “openings.” And in this case, I’m defining “successful” as the feeling of aliveness, presence, and joyful curiosity in the studio. Something about our sister heart-to-hearts gets the creative juices going. We’re still a work in progress, and always will be, with learning how to connect more honestly and tenderly. 

As far as these sacred, intimate moments between the two of us sisters shaping what becomes a hard-dance record that is shared with so many souls in the world, it is pretty magical to think that we can make something beautiful and cathartic out of something melancholy or heavy. We are so lucky to have a creative outlet to express and transmute heartbreak, deep yearning, and that primal ache into sound that shifts people’s moods and moves bodies on a dancefloor. 

How do you balance honoring your cultural roots while also pushing the boundaries of global electronic music?

Jahan: For this current body of work, we’re putting less focus on integrating sounds reminiscent of South Asian music. But as far as dance cultural roots, we’re leaning into the nostalgia of the magic that dance music offered us 15 or so years ago. I think the collective of dance music listeners is yearning for the magic and to be moved by music in a way they felt in their younger years. It’s been fun to reconnect with the music that lit our young souls on fire, as older versions of ourselves. 

In my studies, I have been studying Hindustani classical music with my teacher Humayun Khan from Afghanistan for the past couple of years. It’s been an honor to receive the wisdom and ancient teachings of this lineage from him, as it has instilled a deeper spiritual connection to the voice and music within me. It has helped with opening up my voice. Like, even after 90 minutes of my “riaz” (practice), I notice a stark difference between the before and after of what I can sing, my range, and how sound feels in my body. I’m not sure if I’ve consciously applied this style of music to our current writing and vocal delivery, but I’m sure on an unconscious level, it has impacted the way I record vocals and the melodies I draw. 

This Hindustani singing practice, mixed with my experimentation with vocal expression and movement, has been a way for me to access trance-like states. It has me contemplating our limited understanding of the word “trance” in EDM, and how the roots of this word go back thousands of years, to when humans were drumming, chanting, and twirling, to induce trance-like states, summon spirits, or rid themselves of mental agony and exorcise demons. I am very curious about this bridge between ancient practices and global electronic dance music, and how humans have an ancient longing to escape themselves, their ego, to connect with a higher power, and feel one with the collective through movement and music. 

Over the years, your sound has ranged from EDM bangers to deeply introspective pop and electronic fusion. How would you describe this next sonic chapter?

Jahan: This era is about recognizing our humanity in our sacred tears, in our heart opening and breaking, remembering the magic that is always stirring within, and in the way we keep seeking our joy despite the pain, loss, and longing.

Yasmine: There has been a clear thread in every studio session of this new era: come as you are. Everything we’ve ever written and created before this and now has come from the hunger, fears, excitement, passion, curiosity, and pain of that moment. As we’ve not only gotten older, but started to weave our creative process with our inner worlds more and more, the breadth of emotional span has exploded wide open. We can’t walk into a studio session and create from a place of forcefulness anymore, and while we know there was always a time and place for anything that’s occurred, letting ideas flow from us organically is our number 1 priority. Whether there was outside pressure or the expectation came from within, we’ve worked very hard to shed the need to fulfill anything but our pure presence. It’s a privilege to create from this place and still know that we will have fans eager to ride the wave of what that is with us. I think having that connection to the people who listen to our music is one of the reasons we’ve felt so safe to expand into this next chapter. It’s all about trust. Do you trust yourself as an artist, and do you trust that your message will land in the places that it needs to. On a personal level, this next era is an emotional trust fall into the beautiful mystery, trusting that the only thing I need to prove is that I believe in myself and Jahan, trusting that if I thaw the fear in my heart, I’ll be rewarded, and trusting that I can handle the path that I chose. 

How do you envision the audience’s role in these ritual-inspired shows?

Jahan: My dream is for people in our audience to awaken to their magnificence and let spirit flow through them at our shows. I’ve had incredibly transformative moments alone and sober on dancefloors in Los Angeles the past few years, where I committed to dancing literally like no one is watching, and did this truly myself, to discover myself. It was so healing for me to move my body in ways that I had never known I could or never allowed myself to, and to discover the artistic expression of my vessel. I would love for fans of our music, or newcomers, to embrace the dancefloor as an opportunity to explore radical self-expression in a sea of people, with respect, safety, and non-judgment towards each other. This is how we push culture forward and transform the dance floors into sacred containers for healing and joy, liberation, and witnessing each other’s power.

What can you share with us about your upcoming projects for 2025?

Yasmine: We have so much in store. I would love to spoil the surprises, but I think I’m going to let it be for now. In the meantime, we have some very exciting shows in Japan, Germany, London, and Spain this summer. When we aren’t on the road, I’ll be spending most of my time in my home studio that I just finished DIY remodeling with my partner in April. It’s been so inspiring to work in a space with better energy and extreme improvement of sound deadening. Having a room that sounds this good has pushed me to work on the production value of our songs because I can hear details in a way I’ve never experienced. 

Jahan: Aside from Krewella, this summer I am participating in N.E.O. Voice Festival at First Congregational Church in Los Angeles, which is a week-long intensive focused on the voice. The final day is a performance by the group of vocalists, featuring compositions by some of the participants. The week of workshops and activities explores vocal improvisation, experimentation, compassionate leadership, voice science teachings, and “anti-professionalism” as a way to stretch and redefine industry norms. 

TEAM CREDITS:

creative direction ZACH OKAMI
photography EVERS PUND
gaffer THOMAS GEORGE
styling KEYAN MIAO
makeup MILA MARKEEVA
hair JEFFERSON T