The First Spell: Luci Rain on “Fong La,” Cultural Bridges, and Moon Ceremonies

Luci Rain speaks about her new music video “Fong La” with the quiet intensity of someone sharing a personal revelation rather than promoting a project. The Amsterdam-based artist describes the video as “the birth of Luci Rain” – a visual representation of transformation inspired by the Chinese legend of Chang’e, set deliberately within a Western church to bridge cultural divides.

Influenced by her Buddhist grandmother’s teachings and transformed by a formative trip to Mexico at 16, Rain discusses how “Fong La” merges traditional Chinese elements with contemporary music genres. The artist explains that authenticity in her work comes not from rigid adherence to tradition but from emotional truth, making her 21 Moon Ceremony performances and music less about entertainment and more about creating spaces for spiritual connection and self-realization.

Read the full interview to discover how Luci Rain‘s spiritual journey shapes her creative vision, the significance behind the Moon Princess transformation, and her plans to push the boundaries between ancient traditions and futuristic sounds in upcoming projects.

Melody Milano: “Fong La” is a deeply symbolic visual journey. Can you take us behind the scenes and explain how the concept for the video came to life?

Luci Rain:“Fong La” isn’t just a music video, it is the birth of Luci Rain. The first spell. The first idea I had was a Chinese princess standing in the middle of a church, singing a song that no one understands—yet it calls to them, like a forgotten prophecy. A new faith is being born, not from obedience, but from desire, power, and self-realization.

The Chinese legend of Chang’e 嫦娥 was the perfect mirror for this. A woman who ascended, not by waiting for permission, but by taking fate into her own hands. (Who drank the elixir a little earlier than planned, who became the moon goddess that still affects China til now, who doesn’t love this divine rebellion?) 

My director, Robin, wove this idea into the visuals: “The Fong La video is deeply rooted in ancient Chinese celestial cosmology and traditions—particularly those associated with the Moon Festival. We wanted to create something that wasn’t just visually striking but also carried profound meaning. The Moon Festival and Chang’e became our central muse. Though today it’s mostly about gathering and thanksgiving, there’s an incredible historical depth—especially in the way it honors feminine energy. One of the key inspirations was the ‘Shàng Tiāntáng’ (Ascent to Heaven) ritual, which inspired our tea ceremony scene, symbolizing self-discovery and transformation.”

And the setting? A church in Amsterdam. A place of Western faith, now holding space for an Eastern myth, a new voice, a new spell.

The bridge between past and future, East and West, sacred and rebellious. That’s Luci Rain.

Your grandmother played a significant role in shaping your spiritual journey. How has her influence shaped not just your music but your outlook on life?

My grandmother is the strongest, most nurturing woman I know. She is the eldest of eight siblings, and raised three sons and six grandchildren while going through poverty, domestic abuse, and the Cultural Revolution—but if you met her today, you’d think she was born blessed. She is that powerful.

One of the biggest things that keeps her going is her Faith.

She’s a devout Buddhist. She believes that if you do enough good in this life, Guanyin will personally come to pick you up and take you to the Pure Land. When she talks about death, it’s not with fear—it’s with absolute certainty that she has done enough 功德 (merit), enough good deeds, to enter paradise. She told me, “When I go, don’t cry— Just chant Sutras.”

She was the first person who spoke to me about death openly, while I was still too young to even handle the thought of losing her. And yet, she became the happiest person, the most loved and respected woman in the family, in town. She gave everything and never lost herself.

That’s why my music is rooted in spirituality. Because I believe sound is a bridge. A way to connect beyond this life, beyond this body. And if music is a spell, then my grandmother is the first sorceress I ever knew.

Your trip to Mexico at 16 was a turning point for you. Can you share a pivotal moment from that journey that still influences your artistry today?

When I was 16, I took a secret trip backpacking to Mexico without telling my parents. And then, in the middle of a jungle, under a sky bursting with stars, I met a mystic. He didn’t call himself a guru, but he might as well have been one. We smoked something—was it tobacco? Was it some ancient herbal secret? (Let’s just say it was something that made the universe expand.)

He told me: “Stop forcing. Flow like water. Spirituality isn’t a rulebook—it’s a rhythm. Follow it.”

And for the first time, I understood Taoism, not as a concept from my homeland, but as a way of being that had traveled across oceans, jungles, and languages.

That experience changed everything. It’s why I make music the way I do.
I don’t force. I let it move through me. I let my melodies breathe, my lyrics flow—just like the Tao.

That’s also why I want my music to travel—I want someone, thousands of miles away, to hear my song and feel something shift inside them. Just like I did that night in Mexico.

You’ve successfully merged traditional Chinese elements with contemporary genres like house and Afrobeats. What challenges have you faced in creating this cultural bridge, and how do you maintain authenticity in both worlds?

I’ve spent a long time questioning what ‘authenticity’ even means when it comes to culture. Is it about preserving tradition exactly as it was? Or is it about evolving tradition so it stays alive?

I’ve struggled with this question my whole life.
On one side, I don’t want to be a fantasy for the Western gaze—some exoticized, romanticized version of the East. But on the other, I refuse to be a purist who lets tradition suffocate instead of grow.

So, I made a choice.

Authenticity isn’t about rules. It’s about truth.

When me and my producer Fingerbleed worked on “Fong La,” we didn’t do it to be trendy—I do it because it feels right. Because these sounds, these rhythms, they make sense together. They tell a story that is alive, moving, breathing.

And yes, there are challenges. Orientalism. The way the West has long imagined and fetishized the East. I have to navigate that constantly—avoiding the clichés and creating my own version of romanticism. That’s why my next EP is called “21st Century East Romanticism”. Because if people are going to dream about the East, let it be through my vision—raw, mystical, rebellious, and real.

And the hardest part? There’s no roadmap for what I’m doing.
No references. No one before me to follow.
It’s all self-exploration. Thinking, reading, experimenting, breaking, rebuilding.

But that’s the best part.
Because it means I get to write the spell myself.

The video emphasizes the journey of becoming the Moon Princess. What does this metaphor of feminine power mean to you personally?

The Moon has always been a symbol of Yin energy—fluid, mysterious, ever-changing, yet just as powerful as the sun. (I have also been making content about YinYang and Iching.) People often mistake feminine power for something passive, something soft. But there’s always Yin in Yang and there’s always Yang in Yin, It’s magnetic. It’s the pull of the tides, the force that births and destroys, the mystery that makes people lose themselves and find themselves again.

I’ve always been drawn to women who embodied this in different ways—Wu Zetian, the first and only Empress in China, who rewrote the rules of the game and took the throne for herself. Chang’e, the moon goddess, defied fate and ascended beyond human reach. Nüwa, who stitched the sky back together with her own hands. Each of them took destiny and made it their own.

For me, stepping into the Moon Princess role in “Fong La” wasn’t just about telling an old story—it was about channeling that divine, untouchable, intoxicating Yin energy and making it real. Robin put it beautifully: true power comes from embracing what makes you different. The Moon Princess is just one face of that, and we need more of it in the world—more women who don’t shrink, more stories that celebrate our contradictions, our duality. After all, the moon waxes and wanes, but she never disappears.

Beyond “Fong La,” how do you see your sound evolving in the future? Are there any new influences or directions you’re eager to explore in your upcoming projects?

Yes, absofuckinglutely! I’m obsessed with the space between ancient and the future—where something can feel both sacred and brand new. I want to push that further, not just in sound but in everything—visuals, fashion, philosophy, live rituals.

Musically, I’ve been diving deep into the power of the voice—ritualistic chanting, and hypnotic vocal layering that pulls you into a trance. I want to play with raw, primal sounds—like the deep resonance of the Guzheng or the aching cry of the Erhu—and contrast them with electronic production that feels otherworldly. But at the heart of it all, my biggest obsession is touching people’s souls. This isn’t just music, it’s a portal—into self-realization, into memory, into something bigger than words.

Of course, I’ll keep experimenting. That’s the fun part.

Could you tell us more about the 21 Moon Ceremony?

21 Moon Ceremony wasn’t just an event—it was a spell, a portal, a night where time folded in on itself. We took over a 2000-square-meter art gallery in the heart of Amsterdam, already filled with contemporary works and transformed it into something ancient and untamed. Chinese calligraphy draped the walls like whispers from another life. Incense curled into the air like spirits. The lighting moved and breathed like it was alive.

The ceremony began under the full moon. A guided meditation opened the space, pulling everyone into the moment. Then, as I began to sing, martial artists and dancers wove through the crowd, dissolving the line between audience and ritual. By the time the night ended—with an exclusive screening of “Fong La” and a full concert—it felt like we had all crossed into another realm together.

And this was just the beginning. Me and Adeline my event manager are already plotting the next one in 2025—bigger, wilder, even more magical. Stay Tuned everybody!!!

What emotions or messages do you hope listeners take away from “Fong La,” both musically and visually?

Musically, “Fong La” is both a chant and a call to awaken—sensual, primal, and untamed. The lyrics play with desire, hunting and being hunted, exploring sexuality not as something to be consumed but as a self-ceremony, a personal rite of empowerment.

Visually, I layered culture and spirituality to turn this into more than just a song—it’s an invitation. A journey of reclaiming our own mythology, where femininity is both fierce and sacred, where pleasure and power are intertwined. It’s about breaking inherited narratives and writing our own.

As we wrap up, huge thanks to Luci Rain for sharing her incredible journey with us. Her music speaks volumes, and we can’t wait to hear what’s next. Be sure to stream her latest tracks and experience the magic for yourself. Until next time, Luci—keep shining!