Exzenya: “Society often pushes people into silence about the things they’re ashamed of or afraid to admit, but music breaks that barrier”
I recently came across a hard-hitting and genre-blending track that came courtesy of an independent artist known simply as Exzenya. A pounding and unapologetic shot of adrenaline named V.I.P., it was one of the most forward-thinking pieces of music I'd heard in some time.
A tune that suggested a story behind the sound, I reached out to its creator to see if she’d be open to a chat. Thankfully, Exzenya was more than open to talking with us.
Going in-depth about the inspiration behind her latest single, what she'd love to change about the music industry, and why her background in psychology, conflict resolution, and applied behavior analysis shapes the way she sees and produces music, please welcome our new friend Exzenya!
Exzenya, it's an absolute honour to have you here - thanks so much for taking the time!
Before we get into the nitty-gritty, please tell us a little bit about your musical journey so far. I know you released your debut single, Drunk Texting, at the beginning of this year.
Thank you so much — it’s truly an honor to be here. My musical journey has really been lifelong, though my official professional releases only began in May of this year with my debut single, Drunk Texting. Even though my discography is new, I’ve been writing for decades — songs, stories, and poems that now shape the albums I’m putting out.
Music was a part of my life from a very young age. My mother’s main career was in engineering and corporate America, but she was also a concert violinist who performed with professional symphonies and orchestras across California — including San Francisco, Oakland, and beyond. She often performed in musicals as well as symphonic concerts, and she always brought us kids along whenever she had a performance. That constant exposure to orchestras, symphonies, and musicals gave me a deep appreciation for music’s versatility and emotional power.
Since May, I’ve been moving quickly, with multiple singles released and two albums already in motion. Story of My Life is a concept album about the psychology of relationships and the cycles they move through. My second project, Bar Scenes and Rumors, mixes satire and humor with stories of heartbreak, poor choices, and the sometimes raw realities that come with drinking culture. It’s not just comedy — it’s nightlife in all its chaos, both funny and sad.
So while my official releases only started this year, the foundation comes from years of writing, study, and lived perspective — sharpened by my background in psychology, communications, conflict resolution, and Applied Behavior Analysis. Combined with the musical environment my mother’s performances immersed me in, those disciplines help me craft songs that don’t just entertain but also explore why we think, feel, and act the way we do.
Now, let's move from your debut single to your brand new one, V.I.P.!
A hard-hitting and unapologetic shot of adrenaline, it's a tune that truly breaks from the pack in today’s sonic landscape.
What inspired the track, and how do you hope it resonates with listeners?
V.I.P. was inspired by observations of people close to me — good people who found themselves facing DUI charges and the aftermath that comes with it. It wasn’t about accidents or tragedies, but about the reality that anyone can make a bad decision when alcohol clouds judgment. When people are intoxicated, their sense of reality shifts. They think they’re fine, they don’t realize how impaired they are, and suddenly, one mistake can spiral into life-altering consequences.
What really struck me was not just the legal penalties but the emotional aftermath. People begin to see themselves not as good people who made a bad choice, but as permanently “bad” — trapped in guilt, shame, and a downward spiral that often leads to repeating the same destructive patterns. That cycle is something I wanted to shine a light on, because society tends to focus only on punishment rather than education, prevention, and compassion.
So I flipped V.I.P. from its glamorous meaning into Victims Impact Panel — a program DUI offenders are often required to attend. Instead of treating it like a tragedy, I used satire and humor to capture the absurdity of status symbols and consequences colliding. The goal wasn’t to condone reckless behavior, but to create a space where listeners can reflect, laugh at the stupidity of human choices, and realize they’re not alone in making mistakes.
I hope the track resonates by sparking conversation and connection. For anyone who’s been through it, I want it to feel like a release — a way to laugh at themselves instead of hating themselves. For others, it’s a chance to look at society’s contradictions and see how we could do better. And for fans who just want to vibe, it’s a high-energy, defiant anthem that takes a heavy subject and spins it into something unforgettable.
V.I.P. came out of observing people close to me who’ve dealt with DUIs, but also from a much wider curiosity I’ve had about the legal system overall. I’ve spent time sitting in courtrooms for all kinds of cases, just watching how things unfold — the tension, the drama, the way people’s lives shift in a single moment. That experience, combined with my studies across psychology, communications, and even aspects of law, gives me a deeper perspective. I’m not a lawyer, but I like to learn, and when something sparks my interest, I dig in and research it from every angle.
In conversations with attorneys, I came across the Victims Impact Panel program. Hearing the acronym “VIP” in that context immediately struck me — the irony was sharp. Normally, VIP means glamour, exclusivity, and bottle service. Here, it meant sitting in a mandatory program after a DUI. That moment made me laugh, but it also clicked: there’s power in flipping that expectation. That’s where the seed of the song was born.
The track is not about glorifying bad choices — it’s about holding up a mirror. People make mistakes when intoxicated, and society often punishes without educating. By approaching it with satire and energy, I wanted to show that even the darkest consequences can be reframed — not to excuse them, but to let people see that mistakes don’t erase their worth. V.I.P. is both a high-energy anthem and a social commentary on how we process consequences.
Who would you put down as some of your biggest musical influences, and who would you ultimately credit for helping shape and form your overall sound?
My influences are pretty eclectic because I’ve been surrounded by so many different sounds and disciplines my whole life. Growing up, my mother was a concert violinist who performed in professional symphonies, orchestras, and musicals across California. She exposed me to music at a very young age — from classical works to Broadway scores — and that gave me an early appreciation for structure, emotion, and the discipline behind performance.
As I started developing my own style, I was drawn to artists who blur the lines between genres and bring raw storytelling into their music. Eminem’s unapologetic wit and sharp lyricism, Megan Thee Stallion’s confidence and power, Doja Cat’s ability to be playful yet precise, and artists like Teddy Swims or Olivia Rodrigo who channel raw emotional honesty — they’ve all shaped how I approach songs differently.
At the same time, my background in psychology, communications, conflict resolution, and applied behavior analysis pushes me to think about music as more than just sound — it’s a form of storytelling, satire, and connection. I don’t want to be locked into one genre or box. Instead, I pull from rap, R&B, pop, comedy, and even theatrical traditions to form something that’s uniquely mine.
So I’d credit both the personal foundation my mother gave me and the many artists who’ve shown that music can be bold, cross-genre, and boundary-breaking. They’ve all helped me craft a sound that’s satirical, emotionally immersive, and globally relatable.
When a new song starts to form, what’s your usual approach?
Can you talk us through how you develop that initial spark into a fully realised piece of music?
Every song begins differently for me, but usually there’s a spark — a phrase, a story I’ve observed, a line of melody, or even just a rhythm that feels like it has weight. I grab that initial idea fast before it slips away. A lot of the time, the story arrives almost all at once — lyrics, images, even lines of melody — and my brain outruns my hands. I’ll dump everything in seconds or minutes, knowing I might forget fragments and have to circle back later to fill in the blanks. That first rush becomes a rough draft I can shape. Sometimes it’s a wordplay twist like “V.I.P.” flipping into “Victims Impact Panel,” other times it’s a raw emotional state that needs a voice.
Once I have the seed, I treat it like a puzzle. My background makes me think in patterns and connections, so I map a lyrical framework that mirrors real thought loops and feelings. From there, I expand into verses, hooks, and bridges to give the idea dimension.
A big part of my process is empathy. Even when a song is based on observed situations, I step into it and ask: If I were living this moment, what would I feel? What thoughts would spiral? How would I respond? That turns the story from external observation into something embodied, so it reads honest even when it isn’t literally my story.
Musically, I build after the narrative takes shape. I find the music that amplifies the story — sketching instrumentals with loops or MIDI to set the mood, then layering vocals as textures, emotions, and characters until the performance matches the meaning.
The last step is refinement: sharpening humor, satire, or vulnerability; tightening transitions; and polishing without losing the raw core that arrived in that first burst. The goal is for every track to carry a gut-punch of honesty with a hook that sticks.
What are your thoughts regarding the music industry of today? And, if you could, what changes would you make to it?
The music industry today feels like a double-edged sword. On one side, artists have more independence, more platforms, and more ways to connect directly with fans than ever before. That’s empowering. On the other side, there are still powerful gatekeepers in the system — playlist curators, platforms, and industry insiders who decide which songs are “allowed” through, what genre labels should stick to, and whether crossing styles is seen as creative or as breaking the rules. Those gatekeepers often block opportunities or pile on negative commentary that can be damaging to artists, especially independents who don’t have a label running interference.
What’s important to me is that the real proof isn’t in the gatekeepers’ opinions — it’s in the fans, the streams, and the listeners. The public decides what resonates, not a handful of people behind the curtain. Right now, the system still makes it too easy for artists to be blacklisted, pushed out of opportunities, or dismissed simply for not fitting a mold. That’s what I’d change.
I’d build a music industry that values diversity of sound instead of trying to box everything in. One that lets artists cross genres without penalty, where satire and storytelling can live alongside pop, R&B, rap, or anything else without someone saying, “That’s not how it’s supposed to sound.” And I’d want an industry that shields artists from unnecessary negativity, instead of forcing them to absorb it head-on when the focus should be on the music itself.
Most of all, I’d want to see a shift away from gatekeeping and toward openness. Artists should rise and fall on whether their music connects with people, not whether a small group decides they fit into a predefined category. The fans are already showing what they love; the industry just needs to listen.
When you’re not creating music, what keeps you busy and happy? Walk us through a non-music day in the life of Exzenya.
Outside of the studio, life doesn’t slow down for me. Exzenya is my artistic persona, but behind it, I’m a CEO and entrepreneur managing several businesses, international investments, and a demanding 24/7 operation with employees depending on me. I’m also an international investor and expat, deeply focused on sovereignty, multiple residencies, citizenship strategies, wealth protection, and building offshore foundations for generational security. Helping others achieve the same kind of freedom and stability is a big part of what drives me.
Music is one facet of my professional life, but it’s also the one that brings me the most joy. I treat it as seriously as my other ventures — it’s a job, but one that fuels me creatively in a way nothing else does.
When I do find moments outside of business and music, I dedicate them to family. My children and grandchildren are my grounding force. Traveling with them is especially important — it’s where many of my best stories come from, later transforming into songs. I’ve traveled extensively across many countries and plan to continue living a remote, expat lifestyle that allows me to connect with cultures and people worldwide.
It isn’t always easy — I manage autoimmune challenges and a compromised immune system, and I don’t really get much “quiet recharge” time. But I push through because I believe in creating, building, and connecting. What makes me happiest is simple: being with my family, friends, and meeting strangers: sharing stories, laughing together, working hard alongside them, and continuing to grow through music, business, and global experiences.
What, to you, is music's role in society?
To me, music is one of the most powerful mirrors society has. It reflects who we are — our mistakes, our joys, our heartbreaks, our humor — and it does so in a way that people can actually feel. Society often pushes people into silence about the things they’re ashamed of or afraid to admit, but music breaks that barrier. A song can turn what feels like a deeply personal burden into something universal, reminding people that they’re not alone.
Music is also a teacher. It can shift perspectives, spark conversations, and even challenge systems by pointing out flaws in how we treat each other or ourselves. Sometimes it comforts, sometimes it provokes, and sometimes it just gives us a reason to dance when life feels too heavy.
At its core, music is a unifier. It cuts across culture, language, and background, allowing people who might never meet to connect through a shared rhythm or lyric. For me, it’s both storytelling and survival — a way to laugh at our flaws, learn from our mistakes, and still celebrate being human.
Exzenya, it's been a real pleasure getting to know you better! Thanks again for taking the time to chat!
Before we say farewell, what comes next for you musically, and do you have any words of wisdom you'd like to leave us with?
Thank you so much — it’s truly been a pleasure sharing this journey. Musically, the next phase is about continuing to push boundaries. I have dozens of songs in various stages of completion and multiple albums in motion, each one exploring different facets of human behavior — from humor and satire to heartbreak and resilience. You’ll see more genre-blending, more storytelling, and more bold takes on the situations people often shy away from talking about.
As for words of wisdom, I’d say this: mistakes don’t define a person — how they grow from them does. Life will hand out tough lessons, but those lessons don’t erase anyone’s worth. Whether in music or life, own your story, laugh at the missteps, and never let shame stop you from creating something meaningful. That’s what I try to capture in my songs, and it’s the mindset that’s carried me through every chapter so far.
