She gazed at the bonsai tree a lot longer than she thought she would. All around her, people walked past, rushing to get somewhere—or nowhere. But Jasmine Sokko was in no hurry. The bonsai tree had fully entranced her. “This 500-year-old tree was so beautiful,” says Sokko. “It had survived for so long through all the changes in the world and it was still there, living, a reflection of our era now.”
There were several centuries between her and the tree, but Sokko now fully understood the power of patience. She already knew this virtue. The bonsai tree, however, drove home the point even further. It’s hard to ignore society’s constant urges—be fast, be successful, hit quick numbers. Slowing down is anathema to the world. And yet, here was a bonsai tree in Japan telling Sokko that beauty can be found when we appreciate time.
Jasmine Sokko wasn’t always Jasmine Sokko. In 2015, she was just Jasmine, a business management student at Singapore Management University. Sokko was the moniker she used when making music. Then, in 2016, she released her debut single ‘1057’, which she wrote and produced. The title was a numerical translation for the word ‘lost’, but the synth-pop beats and catchy lyrics found a home in Singapore’s music scene, catapulting Sokko to the top of Spotify Singapore’s hottest hits.
The success of the song encouraged Sokko to work on a debut EP N°, which came out in 2017. It had six tracks, all of which followed ‘1057’s numerical titling convention. The speed of her ascent seemed glorious—and destined. Sokko remained calm, however. She treated every song she made as if it would be her last. It was less of a fatalistic attitude and more like a healthy understanding of her privilege. She never knew where life would take her, so she would give her utmost best in every project. How you do one thing is how you do everything.
But the young Sokko knew, even back then, that she had to evolve. “It’s dangerous not to experiment,” she tells me. “Evolution is a healthy part of being an artist. An experiment is always scary and there is a higher chance of things not working out. But you will definitely learn something along the way and expand your knowledge and identity.”
Unfortunately, knowledge only comes after the painful experience and back then, Sokko felt that she had to listen to the veterans in the industry. They wanted her to stick to the same sound that made her a star. Even though Sokko felt deep down in her soul that it wasn’t the right move, her fear—and youth—meant that she decided to listen to them, thinking they knew better.
“Looking back, I realised that while their advice might be well-meaning, the person who must bear the aftermath was me. They didn’t have to deal with the consequences, so to speak,” says Sokko. Still, she’s glad that she went through the experience. Without it, she wouldn’t possess the certainty she has now. A decade in the music industry will do that to you.
One facet that she is particular about, however, is her image. She’s not vain. Far from it. But Sokko believes that every look has a story, just like every note must serve the track. Even today, two years after she relinquished that masks—her calling card since her debut—she wore, the public still associates her with them. In several interviews, Sokko has mentioned that the masks were a way to deflect attention from her looks so that people could focus on the music. But she shares with me that she was also always “overlooked as a female producer”. So, she wanted the world to look at her.
As much as the masks were a way to make her anonymous, they were also ironically a conduit for conversation. It helped get people talking. More importantly, it also intrigued many to press play and listen to her music.
The masks were also a way for Sokko to draw a line between her two identities—Jasmine at home and Sokko on stage. Over time, however, the two personas became intertwined with each other and the masks became smaller and less elaborate. Finally, she felt it was time to unmask herself because they “didn’t serve the same purpose as they did when” she first started wearing them.
“I didn’t need an object to draw that boundary between my persona as an artist and who I am as a person,” she says. And like her music, the masks came off and evolved into something else even more elaborate—intricate, torso-sized wings and eyewear that looked nothing like the glasses you see in boutiques.
That visual artistry is proudly on display in her music video for ‘Burnout Dynasty’, one of her tracks from the 2025 album of the same name. For three minutes, Sokko weaves a desolate retro futuristic world where the sun has seemingly died in an Asian cyberpunk universe. It is absolutely nothing like I had ever seen. The judges at the 2026 Berlin Music Video Awards must have felt the same way, with ‘Burnout Dynasty’ being nominated for Best Visual Effects. The result is still pending at the time of writing.
It’s not the only award Sokko has gathered for her music and creativity. In 2019, she was the first Singaporean artist to win the award for Best Southeast Asian Act at the MTV Europe Music Awards. A year before that, she also finished fourth in a Chinese electronic music talent reality competition show called Rave Now.
These wins are, however, just as memorable as her performance in Kuala Lumpur last year. Opening for her fellow JFJ Productions artiste and founder JJ Lin, Sokko remembers looking at the gathering dark clouds before she got up on stage. The rains then came down unabated. Instead of seeing it as a setback, Sokko turned it into opportunity. “It was the first time I performed in the rain,” she says, smiling.
Kuala Lumpur holds a special place in Sokko’s heart. The city consistently ranks in the top five cities on Spotify that streams her music. She also spent a few years growing up in the city before her parents brought her back to Singapore and has always kept tabs on the music scene. She looks up to Malaysian icon Yuna and considers her a friend. Belle Sisoski from Sarawak and multi-instrumentalist Yoki Ng are also Malaysian acts she loves very much.
While she hasn’t made plans for her next tour, she tells me that Kuala Lumpur is definitely on her list. Now, she just wants to focus on making new music. Lately, she’s been diving deep into technology, specifically coding. The musical ingenue had always been interested in sci-fi and the future. But now, more than ever, she can see her two worlds colliding in ways that she never thought were possible.
She once uploaded a vocally-remixed version of ‘Lanterns’ from her Burnout Dynasty album onto Instagram using a tech plugin. Then, she boarded a plane and switched off her notifications. When she landed, the clip had exploded, gathering millions of views and thousands of comments asking her to create and upload similar-sounding tracks.
“I love programs. I’ve picked up a lot in my free time over the years. For example, I used TouchDesigner to remix ‘Lanterns’. Technology is on such a momentum right now, in part also because of artificial intelligence. So, coding feels like humans taking ownership back of your work, determining how you want something to look digitally,” says Sokko.
“That perfect balance, and convergence, of art and science has always captivated me. A lot of my heroes, like Leonardo da Vinci, live and work at that intersection.”
The bonsai tree, too, is that perfect convergence, even if it bloomed centuries before the iPhone and the Internet. Jasmine Sokko still thinks about the bonsai tree. Not the tree exactly, but what it whispered to her in that unhurried moment while the world rushed past. She carries it with her now into every line of code she writes, every plugin she builds, and every remix she quietly drops before boarding a plane.
Artificial intelligence moves at a speed that feels almost violent. It’s breathless, relentless, the kind of momentum that makes even the most seasoned artists feel like they are perpetually behind.
But Sokko knows something the algorithm doesn’t. The bonsai tree did not survive five centuries by moving fast. It survived by going deep—by putting down roots so sure and so slow that nothing could pull them up. Mastery, she has come to understand, is not the absence of time. It is the willingness to let time do its work. Technology is the brush. Patience is the hand that holds it. And Sokko is in no hurry.
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Photography Joel Low Assisted By Eddie Teo
Fashion Direction + Styling Karin Tan Assisted By Felicia
Hair Peter Lee From 35A Salon Using Oribe
Makeup Larry Yeo Using Charlotte Tilbury
