From making snow angels in Malda to lighting up Live At Leeds: In The City, Moonchild Sanelly is leaving her mark wherever she lands.
Words: Stephen Ackroyd.
Photos: Grace Pickering, ChantelleKP.
In a snow-dusted corner of Malda, Moonchild Sanelly is sat in her PJs, contemplating making snow angels and casually plotting a musical revolution. It’s a perfectly on-brand setting for an artist who’s turned artistic defiance into a specialist subject – imagine Grace Jones gate-crashing a parliament session or Madonna deciding to become a quantum physicist just for the giggles. Her third album, ‘Full Moon’ (out 10th January via Transgressive) feels like a coup d’état orchestrated by someone who learned military strategy from disco balls.
Between snowy adventures, she’s reflecting on a year that’s seen her trajectory shift from steady ascent to sudden supernova. Festival crowds aren’t just getting bigger – they’re getting broader. “My highlight this year has been seeing grandparents and their children follow me in festivals and singing along to the songs that are not out in the album yet,” she says. “That is super trippy; it’s been super wild and humbling.”
The impact of this cross-generational connection clearly means something special. “Watching the brand grow as well and seeing how the new music is also connecting with more people around the world. It feels next level to me.” The reality of it all still seems to surprise her. “I’ve had moments where I’m looking at these people sing my songs, and I’m just like, I have the mic, but they all know the words; it’s crazy.”
It’s not just a nice happenstance, though – it’s what happens when an artist treats ‘the rules’ like outdated fashion trends, meant to be broken, reworked and smashed together with a sense of razor-sharp style. Her self-coined “future ghetto funk” isn’t so much a genre as it is a declaration of independence, a musical philosophy that says conforming is for people who can’t dance. “My storytelling is not limited to one genre,” she explains, discussing ‘Full Moon”s expansive sound palette. “In ‘Full Moon’, one thing we were definitely intentional about was having cohesion, hence why we got Johan Hugo to play around, but I can’t even tell the difference because it’s one body of work.”
“I have the mic, but they all know the words; it’s crazy”
The album’s creation story reads like a global adventure novel with a soundtrack. Recorded across Malawi, the UK, and Sweden with producer Johan Hugo (Self Esteem, M.I.A.), it’s a far cry from the pandemic-era remote sessions of her previous work. “The recording process for this album was totally different to my previous album,” she reflects. “I even understand what A&R means, which is something I didn’t even think about. I was just making music during lockdown, and because of that, I haven’t met 99% of the producers on that record.”
But it’s not just the geography that’s expanded – it’s the emotional terrain. A late-night voice note to her manager during a particularly turbulent time became an unexpected mission statement: “Lauren, I know I’m in a messed up situation, but I need to finish this album because I can’t write this content from an observer’s point of view, I need to be in it. As soon as the album is done, when you say the album is done, I’m done.”
Looking back at that moment now, she finds unexpected poetry in the chaos. “I didn’t realise I had sent that because I was lit, but when I heard it later, subconsciously, I was operating on the notion that art imitates life and that it was beautiful because even though I was in a difficult situation, I was still really going for it. Even with the hurtful situations, I was never going to give them the satisfaction, so I chose to express it through my music.”
This raw authenticity permeates tracks like ‘Mntanami’, where Moonchild writes from perspectives rarely explored in pop. The song tackles the complexities of absent fathers in her community but with an empathy that transcends simple judgment. “I could play the absent father role that comes from a place of forgiveness because now I know my privilege was having options to choose to do better. That forgiveness was like a forgiveness letter, even from my baby daddies to my kids, so I was writing from their points of view.”
The social dynamics she’s addressing cut deep into the fabric of those around her. “Because in my community, we have a lot of men that come back when they’re older, with excuses made for them like, ‘Oh, he’s young and stupid’, and then you’ll get family members who are like, ‘Forgive him, he was young’. There’s so much emotional manipulation attached to it instead of pure accountability.”
“Even with the hurtful situations, I was never going to give them the satisfaction, so I chose to express it through my music”
While ‘Full Moon’ was taking shape, a parallel story of artistic kinship was unfolding. Her recent collaboration with Self Esteem on ‘Big Man’ emerged from the kind of serendipity that makes you believe in musical fate. “I saw her at the last festival I performed with Gorillaz in 2022,” Moonchild remembers. “My manager Lauren was just like, ‘Let’s go watch, I think you’re really going to love them’. And when I watched, I was like, I love them, and I want to work with whoever they’re working with production-wise as well.”
What followed wasn’t just a collaboration but a meeting of kindred spirits. “When she came into the studio to record, our collaboration was pure fire and had an elite energy; it was made to happen,” she enthuses. “Regarding connecting, it was easy and beautiful. There’s also another song that we’ve got coming out of her album, which was more vulnerable, and we understood each other in those points. Even when we were making ‘Big Man’, it was just nice chats as we bonded over so much, it was just perfect. I’ve never connected like that in the studio with anybody, especially meeting for the first time; it was ridiculously perfect!”
The ‘Big Man’ video shoot became its own adventure in artistic evolution, pushing Moonchild into gloriously unfamiliar territory. “We shot it in Camden, London, which was cool. With that, I also got to experience different people while making the video; I think there are things I tend to undermine because I’m a designer, and we always make our own stuff, so when working with an even bigger team who specialise in movement, it’s nice to experience.” The shoot even included her first encounter with formal wear – “I don’t even own a suit!” she laughs, before revealing how the day descended into alcohol-fueled bonding. “When we were rehearsing, it wasn’t dancing; it was just moving, and I totally saw the need for it. It was a beautiful learning experience and so much fun. Becca and I always had these cups where we would drink Henny; she loves Hennessy now!”
Before ‘Full Moon’ illuminates January’s darkness, Moonchild brings her magnetic live show to Live At Leeds: In The City on 16th November. It’s a match made in musical heaven – a festival that’s spent 17 years transforming Leeds’ rain-slicked streets into an urban treasure map of next-big-things finding common cause with an artist who quite probably is one. The Brudenell’s storied stage is about to experience what happens when unstoppable energy meets immovable British reserve.
“Our collaboration was pure fire and had an elite energy; it was made to happen”
Her reputation for electrifying performances in the face of our stiff upper lip comes with a particularly satisfying origin story. When her manager Lauren initially warned her about typically reserved British crowds, Moonchild’s response was pure confidence incarnate: “They haven’t met the Moon yet, and I proved her wrong!”
The proof is in the perpetually moving pudding. “I love seeing people react to my music,” she explains. “Those are the moments where I’m just like, I’m never gonna tell you to dance, my energy will – and it always does!” Fresh from conquering SXSW Sydney, she’s still buzzing from the response. “We just did a show there. I’m just like, you haven’t met me yet. They were dancing. Everyone was shaking booty, and we were part of that. We got told we were the highlight of the festival; it was crazy!”
The new material is already becoming the crown jewel of her sets, each song finding its perfect moment in a show that builds and releases like a masterclass in crowd control. From the high-energy opener ‘Falling’ through to crowd favourites like ‘Scrambled Eggs’, there’s a careful architecture to the mayhem. “‘In My Kitchen’, everybody jumps,” she says, clearly delighted by the response to unreleased material. “I actually closed with ‘In My Kitchen’; it’s in the album, but it’s not out yet. Another single that everyone loves is ‘Sweet & Savage’, which is for my girls, queers, it’s definitely a queer anthem. ‘Big Booty’ too, everybody shakes booty!”
This relentless touring schedule might be exhausting (“I want to be exhausted, I’m just tired now”), but when she talks about it, the obvious energy, it’s the good kind of tired – the kind you earn by turning every stage from Port Elizabeth to LS6 into ground zero for a dance based revolution. It’s a badge of honour earned through years of pushing musical boundaries, a journey that’s taken her from Durban’s poetry scene to collaborations with Beyoncé and Gorillaz, each step marking another genre boundary joyfully dismantled.
“I’m never gonna tell you to dance, my energy will”
The anticipation for these November shows crackles like static electricity. “This is the part that was exciting to me,” she says. The joy of watching crowds connect with songs they’ve never heard before still catches her off guard: “Because, seeing the crowd, because I’ve been doing it with every single that’s been out, I’ve been performing the stuff, and some of the new album singles that are not out yet. People have only seen them live, and seeing the crowd, seeing that stuff is the trippy part, because, you know, they’ve definitely been following. It’s absolutely wild!”
Her musical horizons continue to expand through a carefully curated wishlist of dream collaborations that reads like a who’s who of boundary-pushers. “I just bumped into Samara Cyn, baddie, baddie, baddie,” she says, lighting up like a Christmas tree. Her approach to music discovery doubles as a manifestation technique. “I generally listen to people I want to work with in the future. It’s almost like my way of manifestation. I want to work with Doechii, and I’d love to work with Doja Cat.”
The list grows more expansive by the minute, each name representing another potential musical universe to explore: “I’m listening to Shakana, an amazing and cool South African artist. Other singers I’m currently listening to include Chloe Bailey and Megan Thee Stallion; I definitely need to do a song with her.” There’s a wonderful constancy to her musical appetite. “I feel like for the last 4 years, I’ve been listening to the same artists, but I’m always listening to whoever is good, and I just stick with that!”
The snow might be falling in Malda, but Moonchild Sanelly’s star is decidedly on the rise. “I feel like this is definitely the full moon,” she reflects, the metaphor extending beyond just the album’s title to encompass this moment in her evolution. “It’s like I’ve arrived; it doesn’t matter how many years it took… but this is the one that gives me the moment of feeling like I’ve arrived.”
Those pondered snow angels won’t last forever, but something tells us Moonchild Sanelly’s imprint will.
Moonchild Sanelly’s album ‘Full Moon’ is out 10th January. Visit liveatleeds.com for Live At Leeds tickets.
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