22 JUNE 2023 | BY MEGHNA YESUDAS
From DJing in the New York dance music space to pursuing their dream pop dream, Blue Mena speaks to dirty about the nonlinear, DIY process of putting together their debut record, the radical vulnerability of their work, and of being a queer, person of colour making music in a genre where few people look like them.

<h1 class="left">Blue Mena traces the origins of their musical career to the gritty, glorious New York underground scene, where they reigned as a DJ and performer over shoe-lace limbs that tangle into each other, and sounds that tear open an eardrum to signal its arrival and the lore-like nightlife that erupts within the walls of a busy club. With sold-out shows under their belt, whilst frequently DJing for events and providing radio shows, they have previously received a co-sign from Raveena, and have an impressive list of collaborations to speak of. The reason Mena Sachdev claims to have inhabited the dance music and hip hop scene, besides their obvious love for the genres, is because “that’s where all the queer and trans kids and people of colour are. That’s where they are succeeding, and pulling each other up.”</h1>

<h1 class="right">Against this backdrop, it may come as an initial surprise that Mena’s debut record, ‘Multi Adolescence’ which released last month, was created in the space of dream and art pop, one that they laughingly refer to as “white kid music”, a diversion from the world they’re so acquainted with. But most questions are put to rest over a conversation (or a Google Meet call from halfway across the world) where Mena’s eyes flicker beyond the screen as they elaborate on the dissonance they felt while creating dance music when most of what they were listening to at the time was dream pop, or R&B, or “weird ambient stuff”, that they connected with more deeply. “For a long time, I ended up making abstract versions of dream pop and rock that come from the traditions I have been playing my whole life. What I wanted to do really, was make a song.” Mena speaks in a low, resounding, drawl, deliberating each word they say, providing vivid, visual descriptions, and going back to a story to make new additions, giving away the quiet exhilaration of it all. It’s the sort of voice you’d hope reads you an ASMR book of bedtime stories, and also sings you through a summertime road trip across the country. Which is not unlike the lush, dream-like quality and the transcendental soundscape of their music.</h1>

<h1 class="left">When the pandemic hit, Mena decided to deal with the dissonance they were experiencing by pouring themself into developing an album, experimenting with the R&B, dream pop sounds they most aligned with, albums being their favourite way to experience music. “I listen to albums religiously, I really believe in them, though some may consider it a dying medium.” For an independent artist to release an album when they’re starting out is a choice that welcomes raised eyebrows from people in the industry, but Mena knew they wanted to make something holistic and push the boundaries of what they can do as a songwriter and producer. And so, in a little apartment outside of the city in Providence, Rhode Island, Blue Mena built themself a home studio and spent their time “injecting Cocteau Twins and Arthur Russell and Prince into my veins and attempting to make all sorts of weird pop music that channels god the way theirs does.”</h1>

<h1 class="right"> Within closed doors, adrenaline gushed, as they had immersed themself almost entirely in a focused, flow state– a moment in time Mena is unsure they’ll ever experience again. They akin their artistic explorations to that of a painter with a palette, “dipping here and there, with a lot of trial and error, to figure out what my palette was going to look like.”</h1>

<h1 class="left">Mena had set out on a definitive mission. They threw open the boundaries for the music they consumed, which consisted of anything from strange, lost, psychedelic records of the 60s and 70s to dreamy pop music grounded in strong songwriting. Mena was not new to musicianship, they grew up playing jazz, R&B, and neo soul in the rhythm section of bands on guitar and bass. What they were new to, however, was the process of sitting with that very guitar and writing a song from scratch. A process as intimidating as one imagines it to be. In the months that passed in solitude, the sum total of Mena’s musical influences and deeply personal experiences collided with each other to result in the creation of their first record, ‘Multi Adolescence’, under their moniker and DJ name of the past, ‘Blue Mena’. The album synthesizes RnB, dream pop, and experimental into a signature sound of art pop that induces a lingering nostalgia for a time one hasn’t lived through, with a discernible modern sound at its core. The lyricism of the album borrows from their own life and its many experiences, weaving in and out of the uncertainty and confusion of being nonbinary in your twenties, t4t sex, their tussle with chronic illness and isolation– stories of radical honesty that breathe meaning into the uniqueness of their sound and visual language. The result explores the beauty and the chaos of constantly re-imagining their relationship to their body and self, as a queer person traversing through time. Accompanied by breathy vocals that wrap itself up softly in a groovy rhythm, Mena’s music, with its contemporary flair, is a manifestation of their long-held dream pop dream, that stretches out a hand in invitation for a listener to experience it all lucidly unfold alongside the artist.</h1>

<h1 class="centre">In addition to their musical exploration, Mena plays with their personal fashion and the visual storytelling of each song, which unravels the thread of their songwriting to present an imagery that both disquiets and comforts the viewer. “The process of putting together the album was very non-linear. Probably halfway through recording is when we made the first video.” Mena goes on to explain that the visuals were always intertwined with the making of Multi Adolescence, where they’d envision how they wanted the video to look while writing the song, which in turn dictated how it sounded. “It was a very internal process, and I was scared to show people the music because it was so very different from everything I’d done before.” It took much courage to open up, almost as if they were hanging their vulnerabilities up on a clothesline for all the world to see. But the reception Mena received from their community is all the push needed to keep going.</h1>

<h1 class="left">“When I asked my friends if they wanted to make a music video with me, it was the most validating response ever. It was overwhelming to see my people rally around me and say this is sick, this is different, let’s do it.” Mena grins ear to ear as they go over the memory, and describe the very DIY spirit of putting together a music video on a limited budget, collaborating with their friends. The creation of the visuals for their song ‘Knocked Out’ has a special place in Mena’s heart. “The video was shot in Maine, in the house of a friend’s relative. We raised money and drove nine hours, starting out at six in the morning, if not earlier. It was just a group of us queer people left alone in a beautiful, beautiful house. If you look at the video, you’d think we had a massive budget”, they laugh. Mena is all heart, as they gush about their talented friends who shot the video on film to picture a woozy, 70s-influenced indie pop cut in a trans joy song that rejects expectations of gender conformity. “We took that and ran with it for the video– a dystopian, queer distortion of mid-century Americana tropes showing how freaky it can be to conform.”</h1>

<h1 class="right">Another anecdote they speak of with much fondness revolves around the production of ‘Iphone Song’, for which they sent out an email to their friends who run a venue in Brooklyn, and witnessed the video come together in a week, made possible wholly by a community effort. It was a gathering of people Mena knew from nightlife, all of whom had congregated in a club at seven in the morning, incredibly sober, to resurrect the feeling of giddy intoxication that is characteristic of a song set in a club. “One of my friends made these detailed food styling sculptures for the table and the karaoke section of the bar was converted into a makeup room with all my weirdos doing each others’ makeup. When we got to work, everything was clicking. It felt so holistic, and in harmony.”</h1>

<h1 class="left">As DIY as the process was, and as complicated as the idea of breaking into a genre where they had no backing was, it all coming together seamlessly was a reflection of how Mena’s people were affected by the project, and how deeply connected they were with it. Mena recalls times they showed others their new work, after wading through the murky waters of internal dilemma, and had people tell them that they’re making the kind of music that not a lot of trans people of colour are, which to them was exceedingly validating to hear. As an Indian American, there is no defined musical landscape for one to occupy. In many ways, it’s liberating for Mena to be able to do their own thing, and not try to be a part of anyone’s lineage.</h1>

<h1 class="right">Speaking in terms of abstractionism, Mena makes the sort of vulnerable, all-encompassing music they hope is nice to drive to, or walk to, or even find oneself immediately teleported to a hazy, trance-like state on plugging in their earphones. </h1>

<h1 class="right">When asked what they want for people to take away from their music, Mena specifies that it is a rabbit hole of thought they didn’t want to venture down for their first record, setting a boundary to not worry much about how people would perceive their music, focusing on looking inwards and laying themself bare. They also confide that this feeling could’ve stemmed from a dichotomy of insecurity and ego, with a need to prove that they could do it all by themself, while also holding the belief that no one would understand their vision. In the time warp that’s occurred since Mena set out on creating the album, they’ve sauntered through multitudes of unabashed adolescence and felt themself aging with their music. “I’m different now, I’m okay to say that I don’t know anything, which gives me the confidence to show people my work. I still feel like a baby with lyricism, there’s much to learn. My influences have also shifted now, they’re not only musical, with the pressure to sound a certain, immaculate way, but also borrow from nature and sound and touch and smell and physical things, which just feels healthier, you know.” </h1>

<h1 class="centre">Mena played a sold-out release show in a warehouse in Brooklyn to celebrate the launch of ‘Multi Adolescence’. “I thought that forty of my friends would show up honestly”, they laugh, and go on to add with earnestness, “but it was so great to see that people are listening to it.” There are the metrics of data and numbers to account for, as an independent artist starting out, but for now, Mena is content with all that has come into being and the space they’ve created for themself, while also “trying to remain patient.” </h1>

<h1 class="full">Artist: Blue Mena</h1>

<h1 class="full">Photographer: Kay Nambiar</h1>

<h1 class="full">Blue Mena traces the origins of their musical career to the gritty, glorious New York underground scene, where they reigned as a DJ and performer over shoe-lace limbs that tangle into each other, and sounds that tear open an eardrum to signal its arrival and the lore-like nightlife that erupts within the walls of a busy club. With sold-out shows under their belt, whilst frequently DJing for events and providing radio shows, they have previously received a co-sign from Raveena, and have an impressive list of collaborations to speak of. The reason Mena Sachdev claims to have inhabited the dance music and hip hop scene, besides their obvious love for the genres, is because “that’s where all the queer and trans kids and people of colour are. That’s where they are succeeding, and pulling each other up.”</h1>

<h1 class="full">Against this backdrop, it may come as an initial surprise that Mena’s debut record, ‘Multi Adolescence’ which released last month, was created in the space of dream and art pop, one that they laughingly refer to as “white kid music”, a diversion from the world they’re so acquainted with. But most questions are put to rest over a conversation (or a Google Meet call from halfway across the world) where Mena’s eyes flicker beyond the screen as they elaborate on the dissonance they felt while creating dance music when most of what they were listening to at the time was dream pop, or R&B, or “weird ambient stuff”, that they connected with more deeply. “For a long time, I ended up making abstract versions of dream pop and rock that come from the traditions I have been playing my whole life. What I wanted to do really, was make a song.” Mena speaks in a low, resounding, drawl, deliberating each word they say, providing vivid, visual descriptions, and going back to a story to make new additions, giving away the quiet exhilaration of it all. It’s the sort of voice you’d hope reads you an ASMR book of bedtime stories, and also sings you through a summertime road trip across the country. Which is not unlike the lush, dream-like quality and the transcendental soundscape of their music.</h1>

<h1 class="full">When the pandemic hit, Mena decided to deal with the dissonance they were experiencing by pouring themself into developing an album, experimenting with the R&B, dream pop sounds they most aligned with, albums being their favourite way to experience music. “I listen to albums religiously, I really believe in them, though some may consider it a dying medium.” For an independent artist to release an album when they’re starting out is a choice that welcomes raised eyebrows from people in the industry, but Mena knew they wanted to make something holistic and push the boundaries of what they can do as a songwriter and producer. And so, in a little apartment outside of the city in Providence, Rhode Island, Blue Mena built themself a home studio and spent their time “injecting Cocteau Twins and Arthur Russell and Prince into my veins and attempting to make all sorts of weird pop music that channels god the way theirs does.”</h1>

<h1 class="full"> Within closed doors, adrenaline gushed, as they had immersed themself almost entirely in a focused, flow state– a moment in time Mena is unsure they’ll ever experience again. They akin their artistic explorations to that of a painter with a palette, “dipping here and there, with a lot of trial and error, to figure out what my palette was going to look like.”</h1>

<h1 class="full">Mena had set out on a definitive mission. They threw open the boundaries for the music they consumed, which consisted of anything from strange, lost, psychedelic records of the 60s and 70s to dreamy pop music grounded in strong songwriting. Mena was not new to musicianship, they grew up playing jazz, R&B, and neo soul in the rhythm section of bands on guitar and bass. What they were new to, however, was the process of sitting with that very guitar and writing a song from scratch. A process as intimidating as one imagines it to be. In the months that passed in solitude, the sum total of Mena’s musical influences and deeply personal experiences collided with each other to result in the creation of their first record, ‘Multi Adolescence’, under their moniker and DJ name of the past, ‘Blue Mena’. The album synthesizes RnB, dream pop, and experimental into a signature sound of art pop that induces a lingering nostalgia for a time one hasn’t lived through, with a discernible modern sound at its core. The lyricism of the album borrows from their own life and its many experiences, weaving in and out of the uncertainty and confusion of being nonbinary in your twenties, t4t sex, their tussle with chronic illness and isolation– stories of radical honesty that breathe meaning into the uniqueness of their sound and visual language. The result explores the beauty and the chaos of constantly re-imagining their relationship to their body and self, as a queer person traversing through time. Accompanied by breathy vocals that wrap itself up softly in a groovy rhythm, Mena’s music, with its contemporary flair, is a manifestation of their long-held dream pop dream, that stretches out a hand in invitation for a listener to experience it all lucidly unfold alongside the artist.</h1>

<h1 class="full">In addition to their musical exploration, Mena plays with their personal fashion and the visual storytelling of each song, which unravels the thread of their songwriting to present an imagery that both disquiets and comforts the viewer. “The process of putting together the album was very non-linear. Probably halfway through recording is when we made the first video.” Mena goes on to explain that the visuals were always intertwined with the making of Multi Adolescence, where they’d envision how they wanted the video to look while writing the song, which in turn dictated how it sounded. “It was a very internal process, and I was scared to show people the music because it was so very different from everything I’d done before.” It took much courage to open up, almost as if they were hanging their vulnerabilities up on a clothesline for all the world to see. But the reception Mena received from their community is all the push needed to keep going.</h1>

<h1 class="full">“When I asked my friends if they wanted to make a music video with me, it was the most validating response ever. It was overwhelming to see my people rally around me and say this is sick, this is different, let’s do it.” Mena grins ear to ear as they go over the memory, and describe the very DIY spirit of putting together a music video on a limited budget, collaborating with their friends. The creation of the visuals for their song ‘Knocked Out’ has a special place in Mena’s heart. “The video was shot in Maine, in the house of a friend’s relative. We raised money and drove nine hours, starting out at six in the morning, if not earlier. It was just a group of us queer people left alone in a beautiful, beautiful house. If you look at the video, you’d think we had a massive budget”, they laugh. Mena is all heart, as they gush about their talented friends who shot the video on film to picture a woozy, 70s-influenced indie pop cut in a trans joy song that rejects expectations of gender conformity. “We took that and ran with it for the video– a dystopian, queer distortion of mid-century Americana tropes showing how freaky it can be to conform.”</h1>

<h1 class="full">Another anecdote they speak of with much fondness revolves around the production of ‘Iphone Song’, for which they sent out an email to their friends who run a venue in Brooklyn, and witnessed the video come together in a week, made possible wholly by a community effort. It was a gathering of people Mena knew from nightlife, all of whom had congregated in a club at seven in the morning, incredibly sober, to resurrect the feeling of giddy intoxication that is characteristic of a song set in a club. “One of my friends made these detailed food styling sculptures for the table and the karaoke section of the bar was converted into a makeup room with all my weirdos doing each others’ makeup. When we got to work, everything was clicking. It felt so holistic, and in harmony.”</h1>

<h1 class="full">As DIY as the process was, and as complicated as the idea of breaking into a genre where they had no backing was, it all coming together seamlessly was a reflection of how Mena’s people were affected by the project, and how deeply connected they were with it. Mena recalls times they showed others their new work, after wading through the murky waters of internal dilemma, and had people tell them that they’re making the kind of music that not a lot of trans people of colour are, which to them was exceedingly validating to hear. As an Indian American, there is no defined musical landscape for one to occupy. In many ways, it’s liberating for Mena to be able to do their own thing, and not try to be a part of anyone’s lineage.</h1>

<h1 class="full">Speaking in terms of abstractionism, Mena makes the sort of vulnerable, all-encompassing music they hope is nice to drive to, or walk to, or even find oneself immediately teleported to a hazy, trance-like state on plugging in their earphones. </h1>

<h1 class="full">When asked what they want for people to take away from their music, Mena specifies that it is a rabbit hole of thought they didn’t want to venture down for their first record, setting a boundary to not worry much about how people would perceive their music, focusing on looking inwards and laying themself bare. They also confide that this feeling could’ve stemmed from a dichotomy of insecurity and ego, with a need to prove that they could do it all by themself, while also holding the belief that no one would understand their vision. In the time warp that’s occurred since Mena set out on creating the album, they’ve sauntered through multitudes of unabashed adolescence and felt themself aging with their music. “I’m different now, I’m okay to say that I don’t know anything, which gives me the confidence to show people my work. I still feel like a baby with lyricism, there’s much to learn. My influences have also shifted now, they’re not only musical, with the pressure to sound a certain, immaculate way, but also borrow from nature and sound and touch and smell and physical things, which just feels healthier, you know.” </h1>

<h1 class="full">Mena played a sold-out release show in a warehouse in Brooklyn to celebrate the launch of ‘Multi Adolescence’. “I thought that forty of my friends would show up honestly”, they laugh, and go on to add with earnestness, “but it was so great to see that people are listening to it.” There are the metrics of data and numbers to account for, as an independent artist starting out, but for now, Mena is content with all that has come into being and the space they’ve created for themself, while also “trying to remain patient.” </h1>

<h1 class="full">Artist: Blue Mena</h1>

<h1 class="full">Photographer: Kay Nambiar</h1>