From Y2K trailblazer to 2025 icon, Princess Superstar is owning her moment—again.
From Primavera Sound to the Perfect Moment
Princess Superstar steps onto the stage at Primavera Sound in Barcelona, rain slicking her platinum hair to her face while neon strobes slice through the downpour like an early-2000s fever dream. For a split second, she wonders if the storm will dull the crowd’s energy. But as the opening pulse of her set detonates through the speakers, the audience surges forward—fists pumping, voices raised, unfazed by the downpour.
At 54, Princess Superstar isn’t staging a comeback—she’s reminding the world she never left.
Born Concetta Kirschner in New York City, she enrolled at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts with dreams of acting. But by the time she left, she had transformed into Princess Superstar—a rapper, producer, and sonic risk-taker who found a backdoor into a scene that rarely welcomed outsiders.
After a short stint with The Gamma Rays, she didn’t retreat—she doubled down, holing up in a cramped fifth-floor walk-up on Avenue C in the East Village, armed with a four-track cassette recorder and a DIY mentality. It was 1994, and she was piecing together her first solo demo, Mitch Better Get My Bunny—a title that hinted at her playful, irreverent style from the start.
That tape became her artistic manifesto—original, raw, and unapologetically hers. Self-recorded, self-produced, and fiercely independent, it laid the foundation for a decades-long career defined by reinvention, relentless hustle, and a refusal to conform to industry norms.
No Genre, No Fear—Princess Superstar’s Hustle Never Quit
Princess Superstar coined the term flip-flop to describe her ever-evolving sound—a fusion of hip-hop, electroclash, and dance-pop—at a time when genre-blending was more risk than reward. Too edgy for pop, too playful for hip-hop, and too underground for the mainstream, she was a misfit in an industry that thrives on labels.
In 2002, she opened for N.E.R.D. at Central Park SummerStage, rolling onto the stage on a toy motorcycle—tongue-in-cheek and completely on brand. But as soon as she launched into Bad Babysitter, the crowd drowned her out with boos.
Backstage, Pharrell sought her out. “You’re amazing,” he told her—words that lingered long after the jeers faded.
Looking back, she sees that night as a defining moment. “I didn’t let the boos stop me. So, if somebody’s booing you—even if it’s yourself—don’t stop.”
That resilience paid off. From underground clubs to festival main stages, from working with Moby and Kool Keith to shaping Lana Del Rey’s earliest work, she’s spent decades making music on her own terms. And now, as a new wave of anti-pop stars thrive in the space she helped carve, the world is finally catching up.
A Blind Date with Princess Superstar (Sort Of)
Though she was in sunny Santa Monica and I was tucked away in my cold garage studio in Stafford, Virginia, our Zoom call felt surprisingly intimate—like a blind date for two music lovers meeting on Valentine’s Day. Except, in this case, I had been studying her career for weeks beforehand.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” I squeaked out nervously as she adjusted her oversized gold-rimmed aviators.
“Yeah, Happy Valentine’s!” she laughed.
She wasn’t in full pop-star mode—bare-faced, relaxed, wearing a loose black T-shirt. A print of Banksy’s Girl With Balloon hung behind her—a subtle detail I clocked before diving in with the ultimate icebreaker.
“With Valentine’s Day, your birthday, and Goddess dropping on the 29th, does February feel like your power month?” I asked.
She tilted her head, considering the question.
“First of all, thank you for tying a big bow around February for me because I almost didn’t realize!” she said with a laugh. “At my age, birthdays are like, ‘Oh boy, another year older…’ but to release my new single around my birthday is just incredible. I couldn’t think of a better gift. So yeah, we’re excited.”
For a moment, she paused, reflecting on how unexpected this wave of success has been.
“I thought my days were over,” she admitted. “I had almost 10 years of not really having a career—not because I wanted it to be over, but because I just wasn’t successful anymore. I didn’t know how to get my career back. It was a very painful time, but I kept going. And then, when everything hit, I was ready for it. That’s what I always tell artists: you better just not stop if you really want it. Because when the opportunity hits, you have to be ready.”
Serving Realness, Serving Looks, Serving a Career That Won’t Quit
“So let’s talk about The Serve,” I said. “It’s not an album—it’s a mixtape. What made you go that route?”
She nodded, leaning in slightly. “I love mixtapes! There’s something about them that gives you a little more freedom. I don’t have to worry about the whole, ‘Is this a major album drop?’ pressure. I get to make music that I love, experiment, and have fun with. It’s a ‘here you go, take it or leave it’ kind of thing.”
Just like The Serve is a statement of creative freedom, her next single, Goddess, is a declaration of power.
“I mean, the name says it all,” she said, laughing. “It’s about stepping into that energy and owning it.”
The music video was no exception. “We based it off this incredible photoshoot of models covered in honey,” she explained. “But instead of honey, we used amber soap to mimic the look. Let me tell you—it was f**king freezing in the warehouse where we were shooting. The soap was so cold, and I was so miserable, but I had to be sexy.”
The sacrifice was worth it. Goddess is pure Princess Superstar—bold, confident, and unfiltered.
“So, if you had to define what you’re serving the most right now, what would it be?” I asked.
She didn’t hesitate.
“I’m serving realness,” she said, grinning and gesturing toward the screen. “Just me and you—no glamor, no filter. Just realness.”
The Lasting Legacy of Princess Superstar
At Primavera Sound in Barcelona, the sky erupted—a symphony of rain, thunder, and jagged flashes of light. Princess Superstar continued to perform, unshaken.
“It was like the universe’s light show,” she said, still awed. “I was like, OH MY GOD! Even thinking about it now, I get goosebumps.” She pulled her arm closer to the camera as proof.
The moment sounded poetic—a storm raging around her, yet she stood tall, commanding the stage. She had never fit the industry’s mold, but she had helped shape a movement. And as the storm raged on, the universe seemed to agree, its lightning bolts punctuating her performance like exclamation marks on a career that refused to fade.
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