Suki Quasimodo (aka Pamm Hong) has long been regarded as one of Singapore’s most versatile and adventurous purveyors of jungle, drum & bass and footwork. Since we last caught up with her, Pamm has ventured beyond our island to ply her sonic crafts in her new home base of London, England. But beyond making a name for herself in the UK and European underground circuit (playing alongside the likes of Kode9 and Lefto Early Bird, among others), Pamm has spent the past year or so in the studio working on her own music.
Earlier this year, her production efforts blossomed in her “alluring and perilous” EP entitled DATURA 01 (the first of a planned audiovisual trilogy). Named after the vespertine flower, this four-track experimental collection oscillates between ambient tranquility and bass-borne severity, capturing the dichotomy of the pretty yet poisonous nightshade plant. Eschewing structure in favour of soundscapes of impressionistic rhythms and dark dub, this reflective release seeks to soundtrack “tenderness in a restless world.”
We asked Suki Quasimodo to guide us through her evocative debut.
Album Origin Story
"2024 was a year of transformation. I lost my job, I lost friends I never got to say goodbye to, and a love I believed was real. Individually, I might have handled each loss differently, but as the saying goes, sometimes the universe whispers until it has to scream—and last year felt like my turning point.
This record became a reckoning, a way to absorb everything around me, to really look at my life with clarity. It was my way of channeling the beauty, wonder, and softness I fight so hard to preserve—despite a world that often demands I be harder, colder. Music became the vessel to hold my soul exactly as it is.
That summer, I was in Berlin for work, seeing my friends for the first time since walking away from a relationship that was taking a toll on my mental health. And for the first time in a long while, I felt at ease. The sun was out, the air was warm—warmer than London could ever be. On my train ride to the airport, I caught the simplest yet most breathtaking sunset, and in that moment, I knew I had to bring more of myself—my voice, my vulnerability—into my music. I had to make it work for me.
When I got home, I locked myself in my room and called it a "residency"—I love doing that. In a week, I poured my heart and soul into this album. I don’t officially play any instruments, but I felt my way through the chords, ad-libbed melodies, and let my emotions shape the lyrics. At one point, I completely broke down in tears. That’s when I knew—I had something."
'Don’t Fall—Ascend'
"I’ve never written anything like this before, but I know exactly what I love to feel from something. In recent years, I’ve chosen live shows over parties, drawn to intimate encounters that feel like a one-on-one experience with music and myself. There’s nothing like sitting still, letting the acoustics, reverb, gestures, textures—every sound element—wash over you, feeling the weight of every note and the raw emotion of a live performance. It’s a theatrical experience—one that exists just between you and the artist, a secret world.
I get transported when I watch live showcases that build on cinematics. One that comes to mind is Abul Mogard at Cafe Oto—his palette of cadence, momentum, and movement of sound put me in the purest place of serenity and safety. I remember my first time experiencing Eduard Artemyev’s soundtrack to Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker where poetic tension with harmony and distraught brings deep emotional instrumental storytelling. Experiencing these compositions, I knew I wanted to create music that makes people feel the same unequivocal feelings. That’s how I felt writing 'Don’t Fall—Ascend'.
Synchronistically, I came across a clip of Erykah Badu reflecting on love: “You should never fall in love; you should ascend into love.” That idea struck me deeply. Love should be about growth and elevation—not losing yourself.
I try to approach my grief and emotions with that same mindset: feel everything, let it move through you completely—but never let it consume you. Instead, I use it to fuel even more compassion and love. It’s my soul food.
For this track, I also knew I wanted to reach deeper into my identity—the parts of myself I’ve sometimes hidden. Living in London, there are moments that remind you you’re an outsider, in ways big and small. And over time, I instinctively tucked away certain pieces of myself. But through my art, I’m revisiting, relearning, and reclaiming my self-worth.
This song is a reminder. An affirmation. A homecoming."
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'Virtue'
"I draw a lot of inspiration from the world around me—what I read, what finds me, what I learn. I’m always learning. That’s how I came across the work of Eyan Bryant, also known as Profound Pondering. I was drawn not just to the simplicity of his delivery on deep, philosophical ideas, but also to the ethics and values he represents.
There’s truth in the idea that when you gain clarity, you start attracting the right people—those who make your world richer, better, and filled with vibrance. His work struck a chord with me at exactly the right moment. I keep a quote on my phone as a constant reminder—Epictetus’s famous words: "It's not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters."
Creating a sound that encapsulates the things that inspire me feels like a dream come true. I wanted to bring my favourite sonic elements into this track. I started with a simple chord progression stab, giving the song its rhythmic foundation—a pulse that feels like footsteps moving forward, hesitant yet persistent. As the track unfolds, Eyan’s voice disintegrates into slow distortion, a reflection of how growth doesn’t happen all at once—it comes in cycles. Our job is to recognise those cycles, to understand what growth looks like, and to emerge more beautifully each time.
The warm glow of the saxophone at the end feels like a pause—an exhale before the next track, a bridge into the next world I’m bringing you into. I love that I could weave in that touch of jazz warmth, a moment of reflection before the journey continues."
'I Feel Like'
"'I Feel Like' is my favourite track—though it’s hard to pick, let’s say it’s the one that gave me the most release. It was the first track I wrote with extended lyrics and the first where I completely caved in. Writing lyrics is a challenging game, but I wanted to find my own method for crafting stories. To do that, I immersed myself in poetry, especially a book a good friend gave me for my birthday—Poems: 1962–2020 by Louise Elisabeth Glück. Her sensitivity and insight into themes I was living through—solitude, grief, love, and loss—deeply inspired me.
I wanted to find my own rhythm and figure out what worked for me, so I started with the foundation of the track—the drums. They’re programmed with amapiano sensibilities, slowed down and shifted off the grid, blurred with reverb to give space to the track and indicate a shift in the trajectory of the overall story. Cinematics play a big role in my approach to music, and I wanted to feel like I was being engulfed by a world I'm still trying to get used to. But like the warmest hug or a flower blooming, there’s an overwhelming sense of comfort, especially when the sub-bass introduces itself in the second part of the song. The sub frequencies I shaped and experimented with sat within the Solfeggio frequency or "love frequency," at 528 Hz, which is believed to lift spirits and heal.
From there, I began ad-libbing, layering words and textures that felt like the world was opening up. I got to a point of making this song where I found myself tearing up—not out of sadness, but from pure release. At that moment, I knew I had to shape the song this way—raw, honest, and unfiltered. You can hear the cracks in my voice, and at the end, I let out a smile, one that felt like a real moment of truth. It was the complete joy of processing everything in my mind, and I wanted to be reminded of that feeling for a long time."
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'Requiem'
"As the closing movement, 'Requiem' offers a deeper, more ominous foreshadowing of what’s to come in the next two parts of the DATURA trilogy. This track symbolises a sense of revival and the pursuit of leaving the old behind—like a phoenix rising from the ashes into something powerful. Although it’s not recommended, I spent days in bed searching for comfort and had the brilliant idea to watch Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream at 8 AM on a sunny Sunday. It wasn’t the best choice, as it cast a shadow over the day, almost as if I were hiding from the truth. But it did provide me with immense inspiration for this track.
A homage to Loefah’s Horror Show alarm stabs, and continuing my exploration of sub-frequencies that are barely audible but deeply felt within the nervous system, I experimented with techniques that mirror how real life can sometimes feel like a horror movie—tricking your mind, while also revealing its sweetest parts. Overlaid with the words “Somebody like you can really make things all right for me”—spoken with little understanding of their weight—this sentiment becomes dangerously hollow, embodying the nihilism of fleeting pleasures.
Balancing darkness with light is a central theme in my work, and the introduction of the Rhodes at the end was crucial to shaping this track in my own voice. A trappy, melodic scatter of drum patterns glues the track together with groove and swing, shifting the mood from the vulnerability of the opening track to an empowered war cry for transformation and strength. It ends with key pulsating bells that act as a chapter marker throughout the album, leaving room for a cliffhanger that leads into the next edition of DATURA."
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Suki Quasimodo celebrates the release of DATURA 01 with three showcases at RASA on Saturday, 26 April (6–9 PM); SANTAi on Tuesday, 29 April (6–9 PM); and The Glove That Fits in London on Friday, 2 May.
