Toronto Shoegaze Outfit AloneKitty Rebuilds and Roars on “Stay The Same” From Upcoming Sad Not Sad Album
Engines make the loudest noise right as you flip the ignition. Animals roar their mightiest when their peace is broken. Sometimes starting over, leaving comfort, stumbling forward is the biggest noise we can make. Toronto’s AloneKitty writes like someone who rebuilt life brick by brick. Because that’s exactly what happened. After a period of intense personal upheaval – losing a job, a long-term relationship, and nearly everything that felt like home – AloneKitty was, yeah, alone. Untethered, with one lone familiar thing to hold onto. That thread became a lifeline. Then it became a record. Writing songs became a way to navigate from a before into an after. It wasn’t neat, it wasn’t clean, it never is. But it was honest. Like it or not.“I kind of think I lost my mind by playing these in front of other people as I feel re-traumatized or upset by what’s at the core of some of these.” Despite the name, AloneKitty is no longer going it alone. Stefan’s on drums, Mike’s on bass. “I never worry about them…which is great because I do everything else.”
Brick by brick. Layer over layer. Track on top of track. It’s a melodic wall of sound that doesn’t hide emotion, but forces it out of hiding. Instinct, tension, and release. The guitars (sometimes five or six deep) shift and surge like weather. Hooks break through like the sun, then vanish again. Think MBV, Ride, or Hüsker Dü. Where pop collides with the primal. Tracks were laid down live at Canterbury Music Company on a legendary 1976 NEVE console, the sonic Grail. No grid, no polish, just feel. “Twelve songs in two days,” as Alonekitty remembers it. “Live. Two or maybe three takes of the beds for some of the songs at most.”
Produced with Josh Korody (Beliefs), mixed by Luke Schindler (Alexisonfire, Broken Social Scene) and mastered by Slowdive’s Simon Scott, the Sad Not Sad (out October 24, 2025) is both massive and painfully intimate. “Every time I opened a new song, it became my favorite,” Schindler says. “It’s something I’d have in my rotation.” Scott adds: “[Alonekitty’s] music is great and I’m playing the songs over and over.” That’s not just high praise. It’s a seismic nod from a god, a true creator of genres. From the jangle of “She Lets You Down Again” to the 10-ton blanket of “2Tired2,” the hooks are everywhere. You just have to wade in. Let it all slowly close over you. And call it shoegaze. Call it dream-pop. Call it post-rock. But AloneKitty calls it what it is: music shaped by upheaval, fluidity, and reinvention.
Hi, Michelle! Good to meet you! Care to introduce yourself to the readers for those not familiar with your music?
I make music under the name AloneKitty. It began as a solo project and slowly evolved into a full band. I’m the main writer, and my sound leans heavily on the bands that shaped me — Sonic Youth, My Bloody Valentine, and Slowdive. I’ve always been drawn to that wall of sound — layers of guitars, alternate tunings, and fuzz pedals that blur melody, dissonance and texture until they become a little overwhelming.
We’re based in Toronto, and it’s been a full band for just over a year now. I feel incredibly lucky to be playing with musicians as good as Stefan Loebus on drums and Mike Small on bass — they’ve helped turn something very personal into something much bigger, intense and more alive.
You’ve said writing this record was about rebuilding from scratch — what was the first brick you laid when AloneKitty started over?
All I can say is that the path to where I am now has been full of sharp turns — a lot of highs and lows. AloneKitty began as my way to survive and make sense of everything happening around me. I’d lost my job, I was navigating my transition, and trying to find my footing in a city that felt both huge and isolating.
Writing through all of that became the foundation — first as a solo outlet for that reflection, and later as something shared and louder when the band came together. Every song since has been another brick in that rebuilding process.
“Stay The Same” feels both explosive and fragile. Do you remember the exact moment that song clicked?
I was experimenting with a Thurston Moore tuning, and within minutes the song just… happened. I hit record, and the demo poured out almost fully formed — it felt like something was being channeled rather than written.
When we started playing it live, it took on a whole new life. There’s this raw intensity when everyone’s locked in and no one’s holding back. That synchronicity is rare, and I think we managed to capture that moment of connection on the record — especially on this track.
Working with Simon Scott from Slowdive is a dream collab. What did you learn from hearing your songs through his ears?
When Luke Schindler sent the mixes back, I was honestly blown away. He heard things in the songs that I hadn’t, and he leaned into that — which was exactly what I wanted. One of the reasons I chose him is that he’d listened to Loveless on repeat as a teenager, and you can feel that influence in how he mixed this record.
Then, when Simon Scott mastered it, the whole thing just opened up — it became wider, more immersive, almost physical. I didn’t ask for a single change; he just understood the record immediately. It made me realize how much mastering shapes what we actually hear when a record’s finished. Having someone from a band that influenced me so deeply at that final stage felt both surreal and completely right.
When listeners press play on Sad Not Sad, what do you hope they feel in that first rush of sound?
I hope they feel what I feel when I hear something that grabs my attention — when a song grabs you and everything else fades away. The record opens with those slightly detuned, almost sea-sick guitars where melody and dissonance are kind of where my writing is these days, and I would love listeners to lean into that swirl and let it take them somewhere unexpected.
Much of what I write comes from a personal place, but this album also reflects the lives of people I’ve known — those caught between addiction, anxiety, and survival in a city that can feel both inspiring and cold, merciless.
I hope that people pick up on the chaotic, urban vibe that’s made its way into these songs.