Anika’s Abyss: Dancing Through the Darkness
Anika (Annika Henderson) is an artist who defies easy categorization—a sonic alchemist weaving together dub, post-punk, and psychedelia with flashes of drum & bass, all anchored by her striking voice and confrontational lyricism.
Formerly a journalist, she brings a sharp, observational depth to her music, which oscillates between rebellion and release. Her latest album, Abyss, is a raw response to the chaos of our times,
"The world might be going to shit, but that’s why we need to meet in real life, vent, dance the pain away, play music, listen to music, laugh, cry, build bridges, come together..."
This ethos pulses through her work, where sound, poetry, and activism collide. She embraces imperfection, leaving flaws exposed, structures loose. In a musical landscape obsessed with technology Anika’s directness feels radical. Abyss isn’t about chasing novelty; it’s about clarity, presence, and the urgent need for human connection.
This weekend, she brings her electrifying live performance to Detect Classic Festival (August 8-10, Schloss Bröllin), a gathering that mirrors her own boundary-blurring spirit. Under the theme "The Meaning of Live," the festival questions what live music means in an age of digital saturation—celebrating spontaneity, intimacy, and the irreplaceable energy of shared experience. In a world of algorithm-driven entertainment, events like this—and artists like Anika—remind us why we show up: to feel, to resist, to be alive together.
Q:You began your career as a journalist. How does that experience influence the way you create and express yourself through music?
It’s in everything I do. It was a weird choice to do music instead of journalism, but both are driven by my same passion: to somehow better understand the world and act as a bridge for understanding each other, bringing each other closer together. So often we are divided and made enemies. Division, isolation, and fear are tools for the powerful to stay powerful. We are scared of what we don’t know or understand. Life is weird; still trying to figure it out generally, really. Music is a wonderful tool for that, and also a wonderful tool for bringing people together, transcending race, class, gender.
Q:You’ve been vocal about a range of political issues. Do you see a clear line between your work as an artist and your activism, or do those roles naturally overlap for you?
Yes, they naturally overlap. I am a sum of my parts, and my music is very honest with no filter. I don’t really go to write a song; the song writes itself. Usually from a necessity to express something or from a desire to understand things, life better. It is a reflection of what is consuming my thoughts at that current moment. Everything is political in the end. Even a love song, because it is probably gendered or influenced by social norms.
Q: Detect Classic Festival 2025 focuses on “The Meaning of Live” in our increasingly digital world. What importance does live music hold for you today?
Music is a great vehicle as both artist and listener. As an artist, it’s a great way to process things, to vent, share findings. As a listener, I guess it’s the same. As I said, it is also a beautiful way for people to come together, bridging social divisions. Also, it is a great way to aid mental health, and it seems like we increasingly struggle with that in today’s society. It’s a way for us to come into our bodies, connect with our deepest emotions, vent frustrations, celebrate highs, commiserate lows – whether alone on headphones or moshing in a mosh pit with others. My only wish is that it comes away from the commercial sales angle and explores the other functions again. When the musician became the manager, it was an empowering move, but it’s important that the manager side of the brain does not eat the creative side or restrict the freedoms, aspirations, nor passions of the artist. Personally, I didn’t become a musician to be famous or be loved or make money, but it seems like the majority are preoccupied with this. As a musician, I don’t want to give a single ounce of energy more to thinking about number of plays nor likes, or valuing what I do based on these commercial value systems. I wish Instagram and Spotify didn’t exist. Both are crushing and commercializing creativity, monopolizing a free industry. Even the indies are caught in its grasp. Fuck those. Think outside the square again, get creative, get outside, build real communities. Don’t mine gold for the gold mine barons for free. They can go get lost. Support grassroots, feed your community.
