5 Questions with Tove Styrke

The Swedish songwriter shares how becoming a mother offered her a new sense of clarity on her latest LP—and how TV singing competitions may not be the best way for young artists to kickstart their careers.
5 Questions

5 Questions with Tove Styrke

The Swedish songwriter shares how becoming a mother offered her a new sense of clarity on her latest LP—and how TV singing competitions may not be the best way for young artists to kickstart their careers.

Words: Mischa Pearlman

Photo: Frida Marklund

November 04, 2026

If you happened to watch the 2009 season of Swedish Idol, you might recognize Tove Styrke as one of its contestants. Born in Umeå in the northeast of the country, Styrke finished third in that year’s competition at just 17 years old, after which she launched her solo career. I Thought This Story Wasn’t About Me is her fifth album and is the first one she’s made since becoming a mother. It’s a striking collection of darkly lit electropop songs that combine to create a stirring concept record.

The setting of this album, you see, is an afterparty that takes place from dusk ’til dawn—though as Styrke explains, that’s more of a metaphor for this day and age than it is a literal narrative. This record doesn’t explicitly delve into politics (Styrke leaves that for Året Var, the band she recently formed with her partner Sanna Sikborn Erixon), but it nevertheless serves as a powerful reflection of the times we’re living in. 

Read our brief Q&A with Styrke below ahead of the record’s release this Friday (pre-save it here).

Since Hard was released in 2022, you've become a mother. Firstly, congratulations! Secondly, how has that changed your purpose as an artist?
Thank you! Not my purpose, I think, but my speed and clarity. You become more efficient and careful not to waste the time you have to yourself to create and think.

Where did the concept for the new album come from, and was that in any way paying tribute to the life you used to have before you became a parent?
It’s a metaphor. I was thinking a lot about the times we live in, about this collective feeling that society as we know it is heading toward an inevitable ending or rebirth. A night moving toward the inescapable threat of dawn fit that narrative while also giving the story a rich and familiar setting.

Did your new project Året Var in any way inform either this album or your thoughts for what the music you make under your own name should be going forward?
All the things I do inform each other—whether it’s planting a flower bed, drawing, writing music, whatever. It’s a constant flow where I try to let my imagination roam as freely as I can and trust that it will all fall into place in the end. There’s politics in everything we do. But Året Var is an outlet for me to talk specifically about political issues and society in Sweden in ways that wouldn’t make as much sense in my English-language music.

We can't not mention Swedish Idol. Beyond the obvious commercial benefits, what kind of impact did that have on your career?
Maybe I would’ve become a better artist sooner without it. I don’t know. For me, it turned out alright, but I strongly advise young people to steer clear of formats like that. They exploit young people’s talent and paint a picture of the music industry that has nothing to do with reality anymore. You’re better off just practicing, creating, and becoming good at building your own social platforms. That’s what labels are going to expect you to do on your own later, anyway. Not to be a downer, but I feel like it’s my obligation to speak honestly about these things. You’re supposed to look inside yourself to find your true expression. The last thing you should do is go out and ask some rich old person who used to make hits in the ’90s.

Sweden has a very rich history of pop music. How important is that heritage and identity to you?
I think it’s important in times like these to understand why we’ve had so many successful music exports coming out of Sweden. It’s because we used to have a whole system built to support this, but every year they’re taking more of it away. Free music education. Places for kids to practice, meet up, and start bands. There wouldn’t be any ABBA or Max Martin without all that. I’m proud to be part of that heritage, and I care deeply about making sure we keep passing on the opportunity to get involved in music and the arts to the next generation.