VIDEO & Audio
Heather Styka crafted The Winds, an album that threads shimmering synths through introspective songwriting. These songs seek to hold space rather than solve, speaking to those on the margins of certainty: the grieving, the searching, the growing.
Beneath SELKEN’s cinematic swells lies an ancient tide that echoes the myth of the selkie and the siren, forever crossing thresholds, neither fully one thing nor another. Her voice, tender and
haunting as salt air, calls from the liminal: between land and
sea, memory and myth, hope and surrender. Like the siren,
she doesn’t demand attention—she draws it in slowly,
with grace and restraint. There’s vintage glamour in
her visual world—faded lipstick, dim lights on a
mirror-ball—and beneath it, something elemental.
These songs are talismans woven from coastal
memories and city shadows, from postcards never
sent and truths too soft to speak aloud.
SELKEN’s music is emotionally complex, finding
the universal in the specific, with themes of
longing, resilience, and seasonal transformation.
There’s a pulse of the past—old folk songs,
1970s rock, vintage pop—beneath inventive
arrangements. SELKEN shows art doesn’t
need to resolve; it needs to resonate.
With The Winds, Styka offers a mirror
rather than a spotlight, a place to
drift, reflect, and come undone. In
her World-child, vulnerability is
not weakness—it’s a wild,
glittering force. And in that
space between tides, she sings
the truth—sparkling and
cathartic with an irresistible
groove.