SadBoi makes music that feels built for motion. Her songs borrow from dancehall, rap, R&B, and club music to create something that feels informed by pop, while staying personal and honest. The energy is restless by design: confidence collides with heartbreak, bravado folds into vulnerability, and the night out often arrives carrying the emotional residue of whatever came before it.
Raised in Toronto and shaped by Caribbean influence, SadBoi has built a world that feels deeply tied to the city’s language, nightlife, and emotional rhythms, even as her audience stretches well beyond it. Her music carries the spirit of Toronto, but refuses to stay geographically fixed, absorbing new sounds and perspectives while remaining rooted in the culture that formed her. For SadBoi, genre matters less than instinct, and identity matters more than expectation.
As her career grows, she remains protective of the emotional honesty that made people connect in the first place.
Your sound pulls from so many scenes and styles. Do you think about genre when you make music, or is it more about feeling?
Definitely more about the feeling. People always ask me what genre I’d call my music, and honestly I never really know how to answer because I don’t create with genre in mind. I just make what feels good and what feels honest to me. The second you start trying to label yourself too much, it can feel like putting yourself in a box.
You first built a following under your own name before becoming SadBoi. What did the name change allow you to express that you couldn’t before?
I think the name change really helped me tighten my identity and build a real world around the music. Before SadBoi, I loved so many different sounds that I would just create whatever inspired me in the moment and put it out. Now I still love everything, but I have a clearer understanding of what fits within the SadBoi universe and what doesn’t.
Toronto has such a specific language and rhythm to it. How important is it for you to keep that in the music as your audience grows globally?
It’s very important. Toronto is such a huge part of who I am, the slang, the energy, the music, the people, all of it shaped me. No matter where I go, I can never stay away too long. Even when I’m traveling or experiencing new cultures, I’m always comparing it back to how we do things in the city.
There’s a strong Caribbean influence in your music. Is that intentional or ingrained in you?
I’d say a little bit of both. I’ve always naturally gravitated to Caribbean sounds based on how I grew up. I love the energy that it brings to music. Now that I have developed a sound, producers know what to send me, so I think it has become more intentional.
Your music often moves between vulnerability and confrontation. Do those emotions come from the same place for you?
Absolutely. I’m not naturally someone who likes to sit in vulnerability for too long. If I’m hurt or going through something, my instinct is usually to turn up, go outside, be around my friends and escape it for a little while. A lot of my music lives in that space between feeling everything deeply and trying not to let it consume you.
You’ve said your music is “for the girls,” and there’s a real sense of community around it. Who are you thinking about when you write?
I think about myself, my sister, my friends, and honestly just women I’ve met throughout my life. As girls, we go through so many of the same emotions and experiences. I’ve had girls come to my shows alone, fresh out of relationships, looking for an escape or a sense of community. That means everything to me. If my music can give someone confidence, freedom, or even just a few hours to forget what they’re going through, then I’ve done my job.
A lot of artists are pushed to soften or polish themselves as they grow. What parts of SadBoi are you most protective of?
I’m protective of all of SadBoi. Some of the biggest setbacks in my career came from letting people tell me who I should be or what they thought “the girls” wanted from me. I’ll always be open to growth, criticism and coaching, but never at the expense of my identity or what I stand for.
Future of Music is about artists shaping what comes next. Do you feel like you’re reflecting where Toronto music is now, or pushing it somewhere new?
I think I’m helping push it somewhere new while still respecting what came before me. Toronto will always be my foundation, but I’ve also been lucky enough to experience so many different cultures and sounds around the world. That perspective naturally finds its way into my music, and I think that’s what makes it feel fresh.
As Canadian music becomes more global, what do you think artists here need to hold onto in order to keep that momentum going?
I think Canadian artists have to hold onto what makes them unique instead of trying to blend in elsewhere. Canada has its own perspective, sound and culture, and that’s exactly what makes people connect to us globally. The more authentic we are to where we come from, the further the music travels.
