Swedish-born to an American mother and Japanese father, pop singer Yukimi embarks on a new venture with her debut solo album, For You, on Ninja Tune. After nearly thirty years with Little Dragon and becoming a mother twice, she paves a path for personal growth through a blend of electronica, jazz, and psychedellic pop. Her distinctive voice made her a sought-after collaborator for Gorillaz, De La Soul, and DJ Shadow. She now reflects on resilience, love, and loss. The album features contributions from British singer-songwriter Lianne La Havas, Little Dragon bandmate Erik Bodin, and De La Soul’s Posdnuos, as she prepares for upcoming European and US tour dates.
Released on March 28th, For You is a deeply personal journey of self-discovery, healing, and artistic evolution. After more than twenty years on the road, Yukimi Nagano – best known as the frontwoman of Little Dragon – embraces her independent spirit in a project that is as much about creative freedom as it is about self-reflection. Her mixed cultural heritage finds expression in the album’s soulful blend of psychedellic and tender melodies, landing in a space that feels both intimate and expansive.
For You is an open letter — a heartfelt celebration of resilience and beauty, chronicling life’s intense transitions: becoming a mother, losing the father of her son, and navigating grief. Her collaboration with Posdnuos of De La Soul on Jaxon is a poignant tribute that celebrates life and limitless love. Joined by him, Yukimi honours both a child and a departed loved one. “That song had to happen,” she says. “Pos’s verse moves me to tears — it’s the most healing message for Jaxon.” Yukimi finds a kindred spirit in British singer-songwriter Lianne La Havas, who joins her on the tender confessional Stream of Consciousness. “Lianne came in like a force of nature — we inspired and lifted each other,” Yukimi shares.
The album’s sonic palette is rich and evocative, weaving delicate organs, strings, and flutes with cinematic touches like a banjo reminiscent of Ennio Morricone. Feels Good to Cry stands out as an intimate conversation with her father, one that moved him to tears, beautifully captured and documented in the song. Through For You, Yukimi not only redefines herself as an artist – reconsidering the force of music – but also shares a profound meditation on loss, resilience, and ultimately, love.
Do you still reside in Gothenburg, on the Swedish west Coast?
Yes, I still live there.
What do you enjoy most about the city, and have you ever felt the urge to move to a larger metropolis?
I’ve lived there almost all my life. I lived in Japan and the States also when I was small. I’ve travelled so much with the band through all these years — sometimes I felt like I was constantly on the road, so I don’t have the urge to move to a big city or anything like that. I have my family there, my recording studio. Sometimes I'm almost afraid that if I lived in New York now, I'd be so busy watching everybody be creative that I wouldn't be creative myself. So I like the peace and quiet of Gothenburg. It's a small city but it's home. It works very well.
Gothenburg has a well-known history of a vibrant music scene, home to popular Swedish artists like José González and The Soundtrack of Our Lives. Do you have connections with other artists in town? Is there a hub where musicians and creatives gather so it can be great to mingle with like-minded people?
I toured and did backup vocals and percussion for José González for a few years before releasing the Little Dragon debut. Gothenburg is a small city, so it’s easy to bump into other artists and bands. Everyone kind of knows each other, but I have definitely been a bit locked in to my studio bubble.
Do you see any similarities between Sweden and Japan, perhaps in terms of pragmatism or other cultural aspects?
There are definitely some similarities. In some ways, not with the food. We have something in Sweden called jamte. It's like, don't talk so big about yourself. In Japan, it's very much like that too. It's ugly to brag. It’s interesting, because I'm half American also.
Do you go to Japan often?
Funnily enough, I was asked if maybe I would go to Tokyo this year. It came up. But before that, I haven't been in a very long time. It's been a while.
Having both American and Japanese roots, two quite different cultures, along with being born in Sweden, how do you navigate such a rich cultural background?
Maybe I'm the perfect balance (laughs). As we mentioned, Swedish and Japanese cultures share similarities — people can be quite reserved in a way. You can't see every part of people easily. It's not like when you go to Latin America for the first time and you feel the music and the warmth. Swedish and Japanese cultures I think are more closed in a way. That doesn’t imply bad connotations, but maybe, it takes one extra step to get to know people.
I think once you have friends in Sweden, they'll be your friends for a long time. If you, for example, visit California, you’ll probably get friends fast and maybe they'll be gone fast as well. It's that type of loyalty that you have here and in Japan, I think.
I think once you have friends in Sweden, they'll be your friends for a long time. If you, for example, visit California, you’ll probably get friends fast and maybe they'll be gone fast as well. It's that type of loyalty that you have here and in Japan, I think.
I would love to talk about your debut solo album, For You. What was the defining moment that made you feel ready to step away from Little Dragon and create the record as a solo artist?
I think it was a very unanimous feeling throughout everybody in the band that we'd worked so long together and compromised so much. It's been a beautiful process. It was just in the air, it’s hard to put into words, but we all realised that it was time to explore new ventures — it felt right, like a very instinctive feeling. Things aren't always like I expected because I expected us to be a band forever and ever. We still share the studio, we're still friends and everything works well.
Of course, one thing doesn’t take away from the other. I suppose it’s about creative freedom, self-discovery, and personal growth.
Exactly, everybody needs to express themselves fully and not have to consider. It's great sometimes after twenty years of considering each other. I thought, this time I'm going to do this my way and follow my own path.
You’ve mentioned that being in a band meant making democratic decisions. How has the creative process changed now that you have full control over your music?
A lot of things are simpler but others are more challenging, for sure. Press pictures are more challenging (laughs). It's hard to have four people love the same image. After seven albums, you go through that process a few times and that can be exhausting.
Right, but in musical terms, what would you say is simpler or more challenging?
I like when things are raw and simple and not overworked. Sometimes that's been a compromise for me because someone else has an opinion and we have to work on it more and more. I feel that the vibe that was very raw can be gone. At the same time, I also learned that it becomes something else, it’s a process, which can also be a very valuable thing. Now doing a solo thing, I'm enjoying making that decision at the moment I feel like — okay, it’s done. I no longer have to consider external additions.
Have you written all the songs alone in that sense?
No, I'm not an instrumentalist. The album is produced by Eric, who plays the drums in Little Dragon, and co-produced three songs with Liane La Havas, who is a singer and writer artist. She's featured on one of the songs, but we also co-wrote a couple more.
I wanted to talk about the collaborators on the record. I believe there are a few more people involved.
There's Pos from De La Soul, who is rapping on one of the songs. There's also my father.
“I think that intuitive sense is very powerful. You realise that a song has something special and you want to see it through.”
Singing in Japanese?
No, in English.
Could you please elaborate on your process of writing with an instrumentalist?
I see myself more like a producer in that sense, like a backseat driver saying ‘let's put this here and let's do this like that.’ I have some ideas, melodies, and lyrics. I write them and search for a specific type of sound. We have a conversation, and I allow others to suggest ideas, like whether a different string sound might work better. Sometimes, whatever comes to mind in the moment and just following your gut feeling. At the beginning of the process, I tend to not think much. Then, later in the process, I think more.
It sounds like a very wide open process.
Very much. I think that you have to. In the beginning of a demo, I try to just give every idea a chance. I can start on a melody, a beat, or something else; sometimes we start from scratch. I don't analyse things until I have to decide if it's going to be on the album or how I'm going to finish it. If you become too judgmental early, you create walls for yourself. I don't want to be critical to think whether an early idea is good or not. Of course, I have a vision, but I don't give it so much power. I just want to try something and have fun and not be so worried about whether it is good enough.
For You serves as a vehicle to explore personal and emotional depths such as love, loss, resilience, and motherhood. Was there a particular song that was the most challenging or complex to bring to life?
I don't think any song was particularly complicated, but No Prince stands out because it's about self-love empowering yourself and embracing who you are, no matter what. There’s a line in that song that I had written for many other songs before, but those never made it onto an album. I was really happy that those two lines finally found a home in No Prince: “We are made of earth, same old dirt as the nors you hated.”
I write a lot of music and then choose which songs make it onto an album. In a way, that’s the real complexity of the process. But when a song flows naturally, it can also come together quite easily. In the big picture, it’s a lot of struggle (laughs).
I write a lot of music and then choose which songs make it onto an album. In a way, that’s the real complexity of the process. But when a song flows naturally, it can also come together quite easily. In the big picture, it’s a lot of struggle (laughs).
You’re incredibly creative, and it also sounds like you have a very productive process. How do you recognise that moment when a song just clicks — when you know, ‘this is it’? It’s just a feeling, right?
I think that intuitive sense is very powerful. You realise that a song has something special and you want to see it through. But sometimes, along the way, that feeling fades or an idea doesn’t evolve into what you initially envisioned. And other times, a song you didn’t expect to stand out suddenly feels undeniable, like, of course, this one has to be on the album.

Is it a long or short process for you?
I'd say my album was finished by the end of 2023. I probably worked on it for a year. A lot of going back and forth but first, just accumulating a lot of ideas.
You became a mother a few years ago.
I've been a mother for nine years.
Would you say that affected your approach to music?
Absolutely. Very profoundly, I'd say. When my first son was born, I went through a bit of a dip. I wouldn’t call it depression, but for the first time I started questioning the point of music. I had never thought that way before. I questioned everything — what I was doing and why I was doing it. Why has music always been so important and why was it important for me to make music? It came as a really strong feeling. It took a while for me to find my way back into writing.
I guess this also ties in with the heavy touring you’ve done with Little Dragon, playing everywhere for so many years.
I brought my son with me on the road a lot, and it was not very rock and roll at all. It was really tough and nothing like I expected. I had a boy with so much energy — he would climb the walls. In my imagination, it would be cute and easy, just travelling along together. But it wasn’t; it was really hard. I think what it has done is probably really profoundly make me grow as a human and make me want to write about things that I feel matter. Nothing in my life has affected me as much as becoming a mother.
Are you saying that once you started questioning the power music used to have on you, you eventually rediscovered the need to express yourself again, channel that energy to what you wanted to say?
Like being born again. Right.
“I brought my son with me on the road a lot, and it was not very rock and roll at all. It was really tough and nothing like I expected.”
How did you navigate blending electronica, soul, and jazz while keeping the Yukimi sound?
The sound of the album wasn’t planned at all. I come from such a rich blend of genres, just like having an American mother and a Japanese father while being born in Sweden. Of course, Erik Bodin, the producer, played a significant role in shaping the sound as well. I'm drawn to the psychedellic side of music, but I also have a soft spot for sweet, soulful love songs and those gentle, melodic sounds. For me, it was natural to combine the two.
Jaxon is an especially powerful track, intertwining personal grief with universal themes of love and remembrance. How did collaborating with De La Soul’s Pos come about, and how did it bring new dimensions to this song?
We met on Gorillaz’s Plastic Beach tour, and we've known each other ever since. Little Dragon was on De La Soul's album as a feature. I couldn't think of anyone else to be more perfect for that song than him. And even now, when I listen to his part, it always makes me tear up. It's deeply personal. I think he just wrote something beautiful. I'm so proud and happy to have him be part of the song.
Speaking of Gorillaz, how did that collaboration come about? Did you just get a call one day saying, hey, do you want to join us?
Pretty much like that. We just got a call and were asked to work with Damon for his new album. Of course we said yes. We went to London to meet the band. We toured with them for a good year. We did a few tours where we did support, and I was on stage for one song with them.
I came across an unlisted video on YouTube for Stream of Consciousness. I think it’s the second music after you released Break Me Down?
Yes, it’s the second one. The video is directed by a Swedish director called Fredrik Egerstrand. He also directed Break Me Down, photographed my album cover, and took my press pictures. We've been friends for a long time, but we haven't worked this closely before. I really enjoy having him as part of the product — the visual aspect of this album. He also lives in Gothenburg, so it's very easy and practical.
Could you briefly tell us more about the video?
We filmed it very recently. We wanted to be creative with the fact that Lianne La Havas, who is on the screen, was in Brazil and I was in the studio. We thought in an ideal world, she’d be in the same room and we could make a video. But since that wasn't the case, we just wanted to be creative with the visuals and TV monitors. The roses and backdrop, we just felt that that type of romantic look fitted the songs.
Feels Good to Cry captures an intimate conversation with your father about emotional expression. What did that exchange teach you about healing and connection through music?
I thought it was interesting to ask my dad about it because he's very Japanese in some ways, but also a post-war child. I wanted to hear his thoughts. I haven't seen him cry much in my life, so I was curious about his perspective on crying and how he feels about it. He just started talking and went on a long rant — I recorded it. He had so much to say about it, and I was like, thank you, Dad.
That sounds like a bold move, to ask your father about something so personal. Was his first reaction just to start talking?
We have a very good relationship. We're very close and we talk a lot about art – he’s an artist –, so it wasn’t difficult. I think I was just reflecting on how important and healing crying can be. Even on a societal level, different cultures have histories that haven't been worked through, things that haven't healed because no one has mourned them properly. It’s important not just on a personal level but also culturally, to acknowledge and process what has been buried or forgotten. So it became about both my relationship with him and the broader multicultural perspective.
I don't have the song in my head, what did you get out of that conversation?
He says that he's gotten older and it's important to cry. He's more sensitive to everything now. You should express yourself. Also, as a Japanese man, he's finding it important that you should scream, let it out. You should cry. You should shout. You should laugh. You should dance, not bury life down inside of you.
From my experience in Japan, I learned something cultural – especially in certain areas like the Tokyo prefecture – where men tend to become more introverted as they age. The older they get, the less they express their emotions.
Kind of like in Sweden, maybe.
I recently watched a fantastic live performance of Feels Good to Cry in New York. Could you share a bit about the tour?
I have a few shows in Sweden and then I have a North American tour coming up in April. It starts on the East Coast and goes through to the West Coast. Three weeks in a row. I've done it before, but not on my own. I'm excited.
The album is released on Ninja Tune, a label you’ve already worked with through your band. It’s such an iconic label. I take it that your relationship with them is strong and that you’re happy with their work?
I've been very happy working with them. They’ve released good music for so long and I'm happy to be a part of that.
What do you like the most about working with them?
Nothing (laughs). No, I'm just kidding. They're good at all kinds of things. I guess everyone's doing the protocol of what a label does. But I feel that they like the music [I do]. That's really important, to feel deeply that they're passionate about it. And for me, to have a deal with a label, you have to feel that people — otherwise, what's the point?
