In the vibrant landscape of NYC’s indie pop-rock scene, D.K. Lyons has emerged as a refreshing voice in 2025 with his infectious anthems and insightful commentary on modern love. With his singles “loveseeking” and “stop,” he blends humor with heartfelt reflections, drawing listeners in with relatable narratives. Recently, he unveiled his new EP, “Darling Kiss Louder,” a captivating project that showcases his artistic versatility by merging audio and visual art with literary themes.
“Darling Kiss Louder” invites listeners to navigate the complexities of a breakup and its aftermath, while questioning the essence of true love. Through the eyes of a heartbroken protagonist, D.K. skillfully tackles the cynicism and social pressures of the 2020s, illustrating transformative moments like rediscovering joy and love, and highlighting the need to remain present.
As a passionate advocate for women’s rights, D.K. also pays homage to the music queens of 2024 with his EP’s striking visual concept. His music videos for “loveseeking” and “stop” celebrate talents like Chappell Roan and Sabrina Carpenter, respectively. We had the pleasure of sitting down with D.K. to discuss his career, his latest project, and the inspiration behind it all.
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Thank you for taking the time to speak with us. You’ve cited The 1975, Tom Petty, Third Eye Blind, Prince, and The Weeknd as influences. What is the specific “craft lesson” you took from each that tangibly shows up in your arrangements today?
This is a great question! I think The 1975 have really influenced my “off-kilter” approach to lyrics, specificity, raw vulnerability, and conversational tone, along with their varied sonic approach. I credit Tom Petty with my core musical foundation since I was a kid, as he was my parent’s all-time favorite, and specifically I think my love for big, romantic, catchy hooks comes from him. Third Eye Blind is where my ‘90s pop rock influence comes from and a lot of my lyrical and vocal rhythm as well. Prince and The Weeknd both inspired me to take production risks while also making sure my music has a level of danceability in it.
You grew up in Massachusetts but built your current chapter in Manhattan. What did each place teach you about audience, hustle, and artistic identity—and where do those lessons collide or contradict each other?
My Massachusetts upbringing was fairly rural and rooted in classic New England melancholy, wistfulness, and wonder, sentiments that artists like Noah Kahan have captured really well. But Manhattan is where my artistry took off in many ways, from late-night walks through the streets to adventures into the unknown and being energized by the type-A hustle culture. So, MA gave me my romantic foundation, and Manhattan really gave it the jolt it needed to become the artist I am today.
You’ve spoken about the loss of your father and the powerful women who raised you. How do those polar currents—grief and resilience—shape the characters that recur in your songs and visuals?
When I look back on it, every woman character in every song of mine kind of embodies a lot of the same things: wisdom, confidence, resilience, and strength – virtues I’m constantly trying to learn from because I grew up learning how to be a person from real-life characters who embodied these things. And with my dad, unfortunately, that loss is still something that continues to impact me, albeit sometimes different ways in each chapter of my life. But his loss created this kind of unlimited fuel inside of me to go after my dreams in an attempt to honor his memory and legacy.
Early on, you “failed” three rounds of guitar lessons and then taught yourself power chords. What did that DIY pivot unlock in your songwriting that formal training didn’t—and how does that ethos carry into your production choices now?
I think naivety is equal parts my superpower and my kryptonite. I’ve always written songs, crafted hooks, and produced arrangements from pure instinct and feel instead of needing to live within technical restrictions. That being said, I’m constantly aware of my lack of formal training in playing, singing, and producing that have probably stunted my journey, but I’ve gotten a lot better about both accepting this fact and being more voracious in my learning to make up the gap and feel like I have the chops to be able to connect and collaborate with other more skilled and trained musicians and artists.
From Blame My Astrology to The Past (Romanticized) to SOPHOMORIC RAMBLING, each era feels more cinematic. What did you learn about pacing, motif, and world‑building while writing, directing, and starring in your short film companion?
I am such a lover of a good narrative arc, and I think that’s only become more ingrained in my music over time, where each song is its own little movie within a larger movie that is the EP or album. I don’t know if I could go back and make a collection of 12 songs again like I did with The Past for better or worse, but it’s a challenge that I relish to try and make a body of work where the individual parts can both live on their own and piece together a larger tapestry or story. And the short film was such an incredible experience and one I have my eyes set on tackling again in the future, maybe in an even larger context. I just love the marriage of music and visuals and will continue to prioritize world-building as an artist.
You’re a songwriter, producer, performer, and visual artist. When do those roles collaborate—and when do they argue? Describe a recent moment where one discipline forced a breakthrough (or a compromise) in another.
It’s really just the workload that starts to compete. I also work in content in my day job, so my creative energy is always being tapped, and I tend to underestimate how much time or energy certain things take. So going forward, I know I need to be better about being realistic with what I’m signing myself up for so I can prioritize the right quantity with the right quality without completely burning myself out!
Your catalog avoids cliché while still leaning into big pop emotions—love, hope, loss, fear. What’s your internal test for cutting a line that feels “true” versus one that just sounds good?
At this point, I’ve written over 1500 songs in my life, and the first 1300 or so were pretty rough and strewn with cliches, so I like to think I got all of that out of my system. Now I really want to push myself to ensure every word has its place and purpose and not to just fall into basic tropes. So when I write a song now, the initial iteration is usually me just getting everything I feel out and on the page, and then I’ll usually spend weeks or months refining that raw material into something that I feel passes my own internal tests where the initial raw emotion is there but I’m delivering it in a way that’s exciting and unique.
SOPHOMORIC RAMBLING pushed the bounds of pop with a double concept album and 10 singles across two years. What creative guardrails kept that scope coherent—and what would you do differently if you started it today?
Making that album was really a turning point for me because it didn’t start as this double album; it started with me putting aside another big complete concept project that I knew I wanted to save and prioritize singles. And then suddenly I had 10 singles, and then suddenly I had 20 songs that I thought would fit well together. And then, like songwriting, as I was making the music, I really pushed myself to refine and make sure each song served a purpose within the larger concept. Will I ever make a 20-song, 60-minute album again? Probably not. But do I feel like I can continue to grow and make sharper and sharper concept albums that don’t FEEL like concept albums? Absolutely.
“When We Were Falling In Love” resonated with 80s pop sentiment and passed 50K streams early. What do you think people actually heard in that song, beyond nostalgia, that made them press repeat?
It’s kind of crazy, but I’ve had the hook of that song in my head since I was like 15. And it’s so simple yet so impactful because it kind of channels that teenage hopeless romanticism and is so easy to just belt out, and I think that’s why it resonated so much.
Mentorship can be formal or accidental. Who are the mentors who most changed your process, and what was the one habit they gave you that stuck?
Steve Hansen is my absolute north star. He produced every song on my first two EPs and LPs, and I learned everything I know about songcraft, production, vocal mapping, and singing from him. I owe him so much. Bruce Lowe (who used to produce for Stevie Wonder and worked on The Lion King) has come into my life in the past year as well and has been an invaluable mentor, collaborator, and support system. I think the main habit I gained from both of them is honestly, confidence, as I really struggle with it, especially when it comes to vocals. So, they both have encouraged me to let go and trust my voice and my emotion, and it’s really made a massive impact.
You’ve recorded over 1,000 demos. What patterns do you see in the “last 100” you consider good—melodic risk, tempo, lyrical perspective, sonic textures—and how are you exploiting those patterns on Darling Kiss Louder?
I think it’s really all of those things. The more you work to refine your craft, the better it should be getting, and I think I’ve really started to craft complete songs vs. just making demos. I think it’s apparent in how songs like “cause baby, that’s life,” or “stop” were produced and mapped, where every note and word was intentional and accounted for.
Your rallying cry is “laugh + dance + cry + repeat.” If Darling Kiss Louder is a cycle, where does it begin and end emotionally—and which track is the pivot point that flips the listener from one verb to the next?
DKL is definitely the cry part of the cycle! While there are moments of levity, it is mainly an EP of melancholy and even despair at times where I think you can really hear me trying to find something, especially in the first 4 tracks where I’m really at a loss of whether or not love is possible. “stop” kind of snaps me out of it and realigns me a little, and then the last two tracks kind of lay out what I really want out of love and whether or not I think it’s real, the point of life is to seek it regardless.
You build strong visual characters. How do you cast, costume, and orchestrate videos to extend the lyric rather than simply illustrate it? Any filmmakers or photographers shaping your current palette?
Well, because proper filmmaking is expensive, I quite literally get by with a little help from my friends! Everyone who’s been in a DKL video in the last 4-5 years has been a good friend of mine, and I have incredibly talented friends who help shoot, stage, costume, etc. I really am so grateful to have so many willing participants. Cole Bennett is obviously a massive force in the music video game, and I especially love his simpler executions because it doesn’t always have to be so over the top. And I spent a lot of time watching Wes Anderson movies this past spring, so you can definitely see that influence in the videos for “loveseeking” and “stop.”
Looking ahead: what’s the uncomfortable creative risk you’re willing to take in the next year—sonically, visually, or in release strategy—that could either redefine you or fail spectacularly?
As you know, my last LP and EP were very sonically varied with influence from every corner of the musical map. My next challenge to myself is to make something that’s more musically cohesive while still pushing my own envelope and avoiding being stale. The next project is intended to be a counterpoint to DKL, given I’ve in fact fallen in love, and I think it’s so much harder to write a good happy song than a good sad song. So, a much finer line to walk than I ever have, and I’m excited for the challenge.
DK Lyons photo credit Julian Donaldson, courtesy of Gioia Communications
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