Oklou Whispers Weird-Girl-Soul into Electro-Pop
Under the moniker Oklou, French musician Marylou Mayniel creates dreamworlds with her synthesizers, grounded by heavy lyrics and notable R&B influence. In this past year, her acclaim has risen (along with her ticket prices) from collaborating with a diverse range of artists from Bladee to PinkPantheress to Caroline Polachek. Oklou takes the #1 spot on the list of most frequently represented female artists on Spotify’s Wrapped for Artists in 2025: an honor shared by Olivia Dean in 2024 and PinkPantheress in 2023, who both skyrocketed to Grammy nominations soon after their respective years. Billie Eilish, in an interview with British Vogue, praised Mayniel’s recent work, raving that “she’s the first thing that’s gotten [her] excited [in music] in a while” (British Vogue, 2025).
Oklou’s latest release, a deluxe version of her first studio album, choke enough, has me excited, too. The album is a welcome extension of and maturation from her previous works like her 2020 release Galore; her overall discography remains central to a new age soulful-weird-girl genre. A title shared by other experimental female artists like FKA twigs, Caroline Polachek, and Kelela, the soulful-weird-girl pumps life into the overly-digitized and often detached scenes of electronic pop and hip-hop. “viscus,” featuring FKA twigs—the first of four deluxe addendums to choke enough—is a meaningful addition to Mayniel’s discography, and a quietly soulful addition to the synth pop genre. The gentle lilting of Oklou’s synth invites the listener’s curiosity, leading us deeper into the realm of choke enough. Her gentle vocals in contrast with her grounded lyrics have a way of creating a sort of “digital womb,” as fans describe, which allows the listener to both float and be enveloped all the same.
In its lyrics and by the nature of this “digital womb,” Mayniel’s pregnancy experience is the heart of “viscus.” Lyrics in the chorus like “I get lost so deep inside me,” and “full of life but I’m starving” share strikingly relatable sentiments despite being specific to her experience. FKA twigs delivers the same resonance of hyper-connectivity to one’s body through her smooth vocals, mimicking the whimsy of the synth. “Can I just scream it all? / Instead of it choking up my lungs,”—a clever tie to the chorus of the album’s titular song—reads like a cry from within, soon followed by synthesized deep breaths and a bass line that resembles the heavy heartbeats between them. Upon hearing it the first time, I am not sure whether to bop my head or hold it between my hands, but I’m almost certain I do both.
This juxtaposition is no accident; the profound connections to the self explored by Oklou and FKA twigs are the root of the piece. Mayniel notes that to understand her work, it is critical to understand that despite being focused on “real-life stuff, the music is still, and will always, forever, have this wonderland aspect to it” (Stereogum, 2025). This balance characterizes the soulful-weird-girl sound: whimsical electronic details behind heartfelt lyrics and a deep, danceable rhythm (also well exemplified by her earlier god’s chariots) that resonate so broadly transcend genres with influences from reggaeton, electropop, and R&B.
Mayniel is not necessarily the first or only soulful-weird-girl to lead a new generation of sensitive alternative girls—earlier whimsically profound artists like Solange or Björk have preceded her and have in time, made their way to the audiences which needed them. I predict that the same will happen with this new wave of female artists pouring their hearts into their synths: that they are a testament to the necessity of staying grounded in our humanity in a digital age, and to what beauty can come of remaining connected to ourselves, “the beating of [our hearts],” and one another in navigating it all.