My music diet growing up was lots of sugar. Lots of retro-pop

The words of Børns—“My music diet growing up was lots of sugar. Lots of retro-pop sugar. Motown, disco. A lot of English rock, like the Turtles, the Zombies, Bowie and stuff like that”—shimmer with the sweetness of nostalgia and the reverence of an artist recalling his roots. Beneath the playful imagery of “sugar,” there lies a deeper truth: that the art which nourishes the soul in youth leaves an indelible mark upon the heart, shaping one’s rhythm, spirit, and vision of the world. Music, like food, becomes a form of sustenance—a diet of emotion and imagination that feeds the essence of one’s being. In his words, we hear not just the memory of melodies, but the acknowledgment of how sound becomes identity, and joy becomes creation.

To call his early influences a “diet of sugar” is to admit that they were intoxicating, vibrant, and irresistibly sweet—the sonic confections of a golden age. The retro-pop, the Motown grooves, and the shimmer of disco were music’s celebration of life itself: colorful, hopeful, filled with rhythm that made even sorrow dance. Yet this sugar was not without substance. Beneath its sweetness lived a deeper energy—the pulse of soul, the discipline of composition, the poetry of rebellion. What Børns consumed was not empty pleasure, but the joyful audacity of an era that dared to make happiness an art form.

The origin of this insight lies not merely in Børns’ musical upbringing, but in the eternal cycle of artistic inheritance. Every generation feeds upon the echoes of the one before it, taking what was bright and alive and reshaping it into something new. The Turtles, the Zombies, and David Bowie—those icons of English rock—did for their time what the troubadours and poets of antiquity once did for theirs: they distilled the emotions of an age into melody and rhythm. To grow up surrounded by their sound is to be nourished by rebellion and beauty intertwined. Børns, in naming these artists, pays homage to the lineage of creation—to the invisible thread that connects every artist through time.

In ancient Greece, the poets spoke of mousikē, the art of the Muses—a union of poetry, song, and spirit that was considered essential to the cultivation of the soul. The young were fed not only with bread and water but with melody, for music was seen as moral nourishment, a force that shaped virtue and character. Børns’ reflection echoes this ancient understanding: that one’s “music diet” forms the architecture of the heart. Just as physical food determines the strength of the body, the songs we consume determine the texture of our emotions, the color of our imagination, and the tone of our dreams.

Consider, for example, the story of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, whose own musical “diet” was the work of the masters who came before him—Bach, Haydn, and the folk melodies of his homeland. From them, he absorbed both structure and spirit. His music, though filled with lightness and charm, carried profound intelligence—a balance of sugar and soul, if one might say so. Like Børns, Mozart did not reject sweetness; he refined it. He turned pleasure into elegance, melody into immortality. So too does Børns’ reflection teach us that sweetness, when shaped with understanding, can give rise to enduring beauty.

Yet within his words, there is also a subtle caution. For the diet of the soul must be chosen with care. What one feeds upon, one becomes. The “sugar” of art can inspire joy, but too much of it—without thought or purpose—can dull the spirit. The ancients warned against indulgence without discernment, for even beauty, when consumed thoughtlessly, can lead to emptiness. The artist, therefore, must learn not only to love his influences but to transform them—to balance sweetness with depth, and nostalgia with innovation. Børns’ own music, ethereal and vibrant, is proof of this alchemy: it carries the shimmer of the past, yet it breathes with the pulse of the present.

Let this be the lesson carried forward: what you feed your mind and heart will shape the art of your life. Be mindful of your “diet”—the songs you hear, the words you read, the thoughts you entertain—for they become the foundation of who you are. Seek sweetness, but do not fear substance. Let your influences inspire you, but never imprison you. For the truest artist is not a mirror of his mentors, but a continuation of their spirit, renewed in his own voice.

So remember the wisdom hidden in Børns’ playful confession: that art, like life, is born from what we take in. Choose to feed yourself with wonder, with beauty, and with truth. Taste the sweetness of joy, but balance it with the depth of reflection. For those who learn to harmonize both will find, as Børns did, that the music within them will not only echo the past—it will sing eternally into the future.