Stockholm’s Dandelion has spent years writing hits for Katy Perry, Bebe Rexha, Griff and SOFI TUKKER; but her own project runs on the opposite instinct: leave the awkward lyric, the cracked vocal, the strange detail exactly where it lands.
That philosophy runs through new single ONONON, a cinematic alt-pop track about the gap between knowing a relationship is finished and actually feeling free of it. The song previews Dandelion’s forthcoming debut album My Sadness Needs Your Full Attention, which will unfold across two chapters between 2026 and 2027.
For this FM PRO Quickfire 5, Dandelion talks about emotional limbo, dividing sadness into two album chapters, unlearning songwriting perfection, keeping parts of her life private, and why sometimes the most important production decision is simply knowing when to stop.
Sometimes the best production technique is leaving your own fingerprints on it.
Q1. ONONON captures the point where a relationship is over, but emotionally you’re still stuck inside it. What realisation unlocked the song for you?
I think it was realising that the ending of something and the feeling of it ACTUALLY being over are two completely different events. You can leave, block the number, say the final thing, become incredibly evolved and emotionally responsible and still be mentally living in a conversation that ended months ago.
That’s what the song is to me. It’s the ridiculousness of knowing better and still feeling everything anyway. The brain is very efficient. The heart is apparently on its own schedule!
Q2. Your debut album, My Sadness Needs Your Full Attention, unfolds across two chapters. What made this story too big—or too emotionally complicated—for one conventional album release?
Because sadness is rarely one thing. At first it can feel almost romantic. You build a little world around it. You analyse everything, make meaning out of every detail, almost fall in love with the tragedy of it. I think that feeling has been my drug in the past. Then, eventually, you get bored of yourself and that’s also when I usually start to hate the situation I’ve put myself in.
I think the two chapters live on either side of that moment. The first part is very immersed in the feeling. It wants to stare at the wound until it explains itself. The second part is more about what happens when you realise it probably never will and you still have to get up, make coffee and become a person again. Trying to put both into one neat emotional arc felt too convenient. Real life has very bad sequencing.
Q3. You’ve written for artists including Katy Perry, Bebe Rexha, Griff and SOFI TUKKER. What did you have to unlearn as a songwriter before you could define Dandelion’s own voice?
Perfection, probably. I’ve spent years in rooms where everyone is incredibly good at identifying what’s “wrong” with a song, and often the thing considered wrong in that environment is exactly the thing I would have loved about it: something awkward, a strange lyric, a vocal that cracks, a section that doesn’t behave perfectly.
So I had to unlearn the instinct to fix everything and also to trust my gut, now that I’m the one behind the wheels and get to make the decisions I want to make for the song without having someone there to analyse it. With Dandelion, I’m always looking for something that slightly rubs against you. Something imperfect enough to feel alive and if it’s good, it’s good.
I don’t care very much if it’s technically correct. The dangerous part is that I almost always prefer the demo. The version I made in an hour, before I had time to become intelligent about it.
Q4. Your music turns intensely personal experiences into cinematic alt-pop. How do you decide which details remain private and which ones belong in the song?
My stepdad taught me the difference between being personal and being private, and I think about that a lot. I want the songs to be deeply personal. I want you to feel like I’ve actually risked something emotionally, but that doesn’t mean you need every fact, every name, every detail of my life.
Sometimes the most truthful thing you can give someone is a feeling rather than an explanation.
I’m interested in the detail that makes you recognise yourself, not necessarily the detail that exposes someone else. So I can tell you exactly how something broke me without telling you who broke it.
I think that’s where songs become interesting when they’re honest enough to feel dangerous, but still leave a locked room somewhere.
Q5. FM PRO TECH: ONONON balances an understated vocal with atmospheric, cinematic production. Which production choice, sound or studio technique proved essential to creating that emotional tension?
Probably knowing when to stop. That is genuinely one of the hardest things for me in production.
I’m usually most obsessed with the version made quickly, where nobody has dissected anything yet and everything is still running on instinct. Then you have to turn it into something “finished,” which can be a slightly terrifying process because every decision suddenly becomes conscious and feelings are not very good under a microscope.
So with this song a lot of the production process was actually about protecting what was already working. If I was obsessed with a vocal, a sound, a strange moment I tried not to touch it just because I could.
I’ve learned not to correct the thing that made me fall in love with the song in the first place. Sometimes the best production technique is leaving your own fingerprints on it.
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