Stockholm-via-London duo Lover’s Skit unveiled their new EP, All Rights Reserved, last Friday, an uncompromising blend of salsa, punk, hip hop, and raw electronics. Made up of vocalist Nathalia Aránguiz and producer Ove Jerndal, the pair thrive on chaos, humour, and rule-breaking energy, turning underground intensity into something at once satirical and urgent. With their reputation for unpredictable live shows and a sound built for both mosh pits and dance floors, the project arrives as a bold statement of intent.
Across seven tracks, All Rights Reserved unfolds as a manifesto against restraint: Bad Lyfe kicks down the door, No Te Metas taps into Nathalia’s Latin roots, while Poor Business Man skewers pretension with biting wit. Political undertones run through Nathalia’s lyrics, reflecting lived experience and punk’s confrontational spirit, while Ove’s hardcore background fuels the record’s raw edges. We spoke with them just days before the release to discuss the record, their no-rules philosophy, and the fire behind their music.
Welcome to METAL! How are you both doing as you get closer to the release of your new EP?
Both ecstatic and exhausted. Right now we’re living off caffeine and chaos, but that’s kind of how Lover’s Skit has always worked.
It has been a month since No Te Metas came out. How has your summer unfolded since then?
It’s been a bit disorienting but a lot of fun at the same time. We’ve been bouncing between different cities, festivals, late nights at the club and in the studio.
With All Rights Reserved only days away, what emotions are running through you right now?
All of them, constantly switching. Excitement, nerves, relief. Mostly, it’s the feeling of finally opening the floodgates — people will get to hear what we’ve been sitting on.
The record pulls together salsa, punk, hip hop and raw electronics. Did this fusion happen naturally in the studio, or did you consciously push those extremes?
Totally natural. We never sit down and say, let’s make a salsa-punk-hip hop track. We just throw everything we love into the fire. The only rule is no rules; if it bangs, it stays.
Your singles Bad Lyfe, No Te Metas and the title track have each carried their own strong identity. Did you see them as signposts toward the full EP, or did the narrative emerge later?
We didn’t plan them as signposts, and honestly, any of the tracks could have ended up as singles, but looking back, these definitely broaden our territory, which was something we really wanted to do coming from our last EP. The narrative came together very quickly, I would say, and the tracks happened afterwards.
Humour cuts sharply through a track like Poor Business Man. Do you feel satire is just as powerful as anger when it comes to delivering your message?
Definitely. Sometimes laughing at something is sharper than screaming at it. Anger gives the punch, humour makes it stick.
“Sometimes laughing at something is sharper than screaming at it. Anger gives the punch, humour makes it stick.”
Bringing in the sounds you grew up with adds a very personal layer to the record. Was it important to weave those roots into this project?
Yes. Latin music is part of our DNA. Mixing salsa or reggaeton with punk feels natural because it reflects growing up between different worlds.
Coming from hardcore, what aspects of that world still drive the way you play and produce now?
The DIY attitude, the volume, the refusal to polish things too much. Hardcore taught us to keep things raw and direct.
The title All Rights Reserved already feels like a statement. What does it represent to you at this point in your journey?
It’s about rights in every sense. The right to exist, create and execute. But also about how the industry treats art like property. It’s serious and satirical at the same time, which is basically our whole project.
Your live shows have built a reputation for chaos and catharsis. How do you manage to capture that same spirit when you are in the studio?
By not being confined. We shout, dance, mess around — the studio becomes a show. And we keep the mistakes, because imperfection carries the energy.
Do you think genre labels still mean anything to listeners today, or is it time to abandon them altogether?
I think it can be very important to people, as it is about affinity. But when you feel like there’s no place for you in this world, you have to create your own world.
A track like Misconception pushes into industrial intensity, while Go Boo feels designed for late-night dance floors. How do you balance menace with fun?
Life is both: menace and fun at the same time. We don’t balance it; we let them fight it out throughout the whole EP.
There is a clear political current running through your lyrics. Do you see yourselves more as observers of the world around you or as artists aiming to provoke?
Both. We grew up feeling politics every day, so observing and responding come naturally. But sometimes you have to provoke just to get people to notice.
Working on this record has also meant dealing with the industry in new ways. What have been the biggest surprises or challenges so far?
How fragile it all is; it literally feels like it could break down any second. And how young artists are expected to know everything about branding, promotion, when all we really want to do is make noise.
When someone presses play on All Rights Reserved, what do you hope hits them first?
The feeling that they don’t need permission to do anything. And a beat that makes them move, even if they don’t want to.
You’ll be performing at the Jungfrukällan Festival in Sweden and Brixton London in the next few weeks, won’t you?
Yes! We’re hyped. Sweden is home turf, and we love London, so looking forward to seeing our fans again in one of our favourite cities. Two very different energies, both perfect for chaos.
And is there anything you can tell us about your next projects?
More music, louder and stranger. More shows too, Europe and the UK are just the beginning.