Kristen Castro’s new single “Malibu” is more than a summer anthem — it’s a turning point, a spiritual breadcrumb, and a vulnerable offering born from a deeply personal reckoning. Written at the close of her Saturn Return and crafted during her time living in Amsterdam, the track marks the first glimpse into Capricorn Baby, Castro’s forthcoming debut album due out in August 2025 that fuses ethereal indie pop with naked queer lyricism and ambient textures.
Known for her work as a multi-instrumentalist, songwriter, and producer, and formerly a member of Maybe April, Castro steps into the spotlight with clarity and purpose. Self-produced and emotionally charged, “Malibu” captures the moment she nearly walked away from music, only to rediscover her voice at the edge of the ocean.
In this intimate interview, Castro opens up about the intuitive journey that shaped her new music, the power of astrology and tarot in reclaiming creative agency, and what it means to take up space as a queer Mexican American artist forging her own path.
“Malibu” is described as a shimmering ode to vulnerability, written during the tail end of your Saturn Return. Can you share more about that specific day at the beach and how it shaped the song’s emotional core?
I wrote “Malibu” at a time when I was close to quitting music. I was at a crossroads of potentially leaving behind the very essence that makes me who I am — music. I was about to leave for Amsterdam and called my best friend from the beach to end what felt like a complicated connection — but instead of letting go, she fought for me. That moment fundamentally changed my ability to have faith in others — it gave me a sense of hope that I can be myself, be open. I’d been closed off from connecting with anyone in the industry after so much burnout and loss. Her belief in me — especially as someone so established in music — gave me the courage to write every day in Amsterdam and to finish this album. That beach day was the turning point.
As a self-produced track, from writing to mastering, what was the most empowering or surprising part of creating “Malibu” entirely on your own?
The most empowering moment was recording the acoustic guitars on my iPhone voice memos after my interface broke. The verse takes are raw and one-take, and I think they sound stellar. I was attached to the acoustics I’d tracked in Amsterdam, but letting go of them and trusting the moment led to something even better. It was guided by intuition even at the end.
The most surprising part was how last-minute and magical the mixing process was. Duncan Ferguson and Devon Eisenbarger — my close friends and co-producers — ended up mixing it with me in person in Nashville, right after Devon flew in from her first run on the Lifetimes tour. She insisted we finish it together, and those few hours of mixing and mastering felt deeply synchronistic. I felt really loved, safe to not do it all alone, and that it’s okay to let people show up for you.
Sonically, “Malibu” blends ambient textures with layered harmonies and introspective lyrics. Which instruments or production choices were key in bringing this sun-soaked, emotional soundscape to life?
My favorite production moments were always ones guided by intuition. When the acoustics weren’t working, I replaced ones I was attached to with new parts; when the electrics weren’t working, the other producer helped change the chord progression and tracked the rhythm section; when it felt too busy with percussion and drums, the other producer cut things out. It allowed the song to breathe in a way I hadn’t imagined. It reinforced the truth that emotion and connection are the backbone and lifeblood of any musical note.
The acoustics are an ode to Ventura Highway and Boyhood.
- Acoustics: Gibson J45 and Taylor 614ce
- Electrics: Fender American Professional II Stratocaster
- Favorite Plugins: SoundToys Microshift and Valhalla Supermassive
You’ve said your forthcoming album, Capricorn Baby, is about taking up space for the first time, intentionally. What inner shift or realization helped you reach that point, and how does “Malibu” reflect that change?
Sometimes, when I’m searching for answers, I like to explore different spaces for inspiration and interpretation in tarot and astrology. I pulled two Tarot cards asking what would happen if I quit or stayed in music. First, the Chariot reversed — doubt and setbacks. Then, after shuffling, the Chariot upright — confidence and forward motion.
That moment shook me because it felt like it captured the exact life moment I was experiencing.
To end my Saturn Return, in search of guidance, I stumbled upon an astrologer based in Malaysia. Gwen, The Asian Astrologer, told me to follow my intuition for a week, and I felt an invisible thread pull me to the ocean. I dropped everything and went. That beach became the turning point. It reminded me that taking up space starts with listening to myself. When I was at the ocean, I understood that I had a choice to make for myself. I felt the weight of that decision, and I intentionally let the part of me consumed by fear and wounds be set free.
“Malibu” is my offering to the unknown — a song shaped by intuition, like the tide pulled by the moon. It’s where I chose to trust the in-between, to stand at the edge of what’s known and dive into what’s not.
Capricorn Baby was shaped in Amsterdam during your Saturn Return. How did that city’s energy and astrological transit impact your creative process?
Amsterdam taught me freedom, and Saturn in Aquarius taught me resilience. With this Saturn transit, I learned how to embrace innovation and responsibility to shape my future by individuality. Amsterdam taught me how to fight for the life I wanted. I was staying with my sister and learned how to be brave and authentic from her. I reclaimed my voice-tracking vocals and acoustics in her apartment. Both Amsterdam and Saturn built the foundation for who I was becoming and who I was letting go.
You mention writing “naked queer lyrics.” What has it meant to express your identity so openly through this project, and what do you hope queer listeners, in particular, take away from it?
My whole life, I was scared to be outwardly gay. I faced a lot of trauma as a teenager, and this album became a way to reclaim the part of myself I had tucked away. Being in Amsterdam, surrounded by freedom and honesty, gave me permission to finally write from that place. Honest writing, to me, means speaking truth to romance, heartbreak, love, sexuality, and intimacy — the full human experience of being myself and being with a girl. Writing those lyrics is my truth. I hope it gives other queer individuals the courage not to hide, to feel proud and grounded in who they are and who they love. There are communities out there who will embrace you just as you are.
With your background in folk, Americana, and indie pop, how do you feel Capricorn Baby redefines your sound and artistic identity going forward?
“Malibu” feels like the first version of all of me. The acoustics carry my roots in folk and Americana. The electrics reflect my love for rock and metal. The vocals draw from the emotional depth of indie pop. Capricorn Baby redefines my sound by letting all those parts coexist and honoring everything I’ve learned from being in bands, studios, and live shows. It feels like a full circle moment that is also just the beginning.
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