Part 2
Sound, song, and rhythm are all around us, from animal noises to the waves of the ocean. What, if any, are some of the most moving experiences you've had with these non-human-made sounds? In how far would you describe them as “musical”?
There's something spherical about the wind weaving its way through trees. It feels like the trees are speaking with the wind and as if they are part of the element. It comes and goes in waves of sound. Each tree makes different noises and has a different intensity. It feels like you are listening to a real-life Dolby Surround, haha.
Listening to those sounds always brings me back to my early youth. We had a garden with lots of trees, and as a kid, I always thought that the wind was created by the trees waving their leaves. It was as if the trees came alive.
It could be a very peaceful sound, but it can also be ear-deafening. Sometimes you hear sequences, but it's mostly chaotic by nature. I think that is always a nice aspect in music too. I like it when music has a chaotic or organic nature, and if you can sometimes recognize things or certain elements that stand out and then disappear again.
I am thinking of the music of Ben Monder, Steve Reich, Jean Richafort, Lightning Bolt, Autechre, Colin Stetson, James Holden, Mice Parade, etc.
From very deep/high/loud/quiet sounds to very long/short/simple/complex compositions - are there extremes in music you feel drawn to and what response do they elicit?
Layered music often generates vague new sounds that aren't written into the compositions. It is often by coincidence that you hear new things in that kind of music, extra elements that weren't put there intentionally but emerge because of the interaction between instruments and sounds. I always enjoy those discoveries. You can often hear new things each time you listen.
Also, I like it when you feel high energy in music, when you can sense the momentum of the moment in which the song was recorded. I find music most interesting when the moment itself contributes significantly to the total energy. I enjoy listening to concerts that are different each time they are played. I appreciate it when you can hear the musicians pushing their boundaries.
Easy playing can be very pleasant, but there's something very human and appealing about people pushing their limits. It resonates well with the listener and creates a human connection.
Could you describe your creative process on the basis of one of your pieces, live performances or albums that's particularly dear to you, please?
Most of the time, I keep ideas all around me. These are usually short ideas played on the guitar or rhythmic ideas. I'll grab what I need at the moment, or I gravitate toward the ideas I am drawn to at a certain point in the writing process. I usually try to explore them in various ways to see what the possibilities are. I always like to connect them together with a certain story or image in my mind.
In case of this album (Thin Air . Mirror Land) I was driven by a fascination with the artwork of Edvard Munch. I found inspiration in Munch's painting "The Storm" (1893) as a catalyst for the writing process, exploring a dystopian backdrop and the intriguing interplay between comfort and unrest.
As is often the case, the theme of the work takes on a life of its own throughout the writing process. The painting gradually evolved into a metaphor for our everyday reality. In these times of change, the air becomes thinner, making it increasingly difficult for many to find breathing space and connection in a world full of endless possibilities.
(The figures in the painting clearly exude a sense of unease towards something that remains ambiguous to the viewer. The viewer takes a position on the other side of the scene, yet peers into a mirror. This also alludes to the digital life we are increasingly immersed in, a mirror with a growing influence on reality.)
The dystopian intensity and the tension emanating from Munch's work have been translated into music. We sometimes seek avenues to escape from reality, to dream, and to transcend the burdens of everyday life, but we always find ourselves returning to the ground.
Do you conduct “experiments” or make use of scientific insights when you're making music?
Mostly, I work by ear or draw from the experience of previous projects. However, there are a few techniques that recur.
I enjoy displacing rhythms and creating different rhythmic patterns that complement each other. I achieve this by layering melodies and playing with the contrast of various octaves or intervals. I often experiment with different cycles and subdivisions; different rhythms tend to find resolution at various points within the piece, causing the cycles to overlap at times. The melodies may remain consistent across different rhythms, or vice versa. Occasionally, I also work with fixed interval groups within a specific scale, which forms the harmony for a song.
But most of the time, I make adjustments by ear. Systems can serve as a great starting point, but in the end, it must be transformed into something musical.
How does the way you make music reflect the way you live your life? Can we learn lessons about life by understanding music on a deeper level?
Trying to keep an open mind or viewpoint on things. Striving to be flexible and adapt to situations that don't work out well. Being open to making changes if necessary.
Playfulness: trying not to be overly focused on a specific goal most of the time. Attempting to accept what is emerging in the moment, as goals can change during the process anyway. And there are always other factors that influence the path you walk. Accepting processes and the time required to do them well can be challenging at times.
Most possibilities can lead to a certain outcome, so decisions are often deliberate and guide you in the direction you want to go. Not being afraid to make decisions. You always have the choice of where you want to go. This is often true in life as well. It's not always easy, but you learn by doing, I guess.
Do you feel as though writing or performing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more 'mundane' tasks?
I think it's rather difficult to compare. Music is its very own thing. It creates a backdrop for various emotions at different times for different people.
Music is always in motion and changes for the listener. It can elicit different reactions at different times and in different settings. The way you intentionally write it could evoke something else when you listen. It's challenging to compare ...
Every time I listen to "Albedo 0.39" by Vangelis, I choke up. But the lyrics are made up of nothing but numbers and values. Do you, too, have a song or piece of music that affects you in a way that you can't explain?
Pavel G. Chesnokov: 'To Thee We Sing' St. Petersburg Chamber Choir with Bass Profondo Vladimir Pasjukov. Op. 27 No.6
Utterly beautiful! The music passes through your head, wafting, out of this world. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard.
There's something about the magic of layered voices. I think those are the most beautiful of instruments we'll ever have. When you listen, you can imagine all the pain, hope, and despair that the nation of Russia must have endured. It's an Orthodox Catholic piece, but it's so much more than that. Utterly beautiful!
If you could make a wish for the future – what are developments in music you would like to see and hear?
Writing scores for theatre, film, etc ... I would like to have 'carte blanche' for a project involving images sometime. But also, I'd like to work with people who are willing to create images for the music I (we) make.
It would, for instance, be nice to create a score for a film that doesn't exist ... yet. I would love to see the synergy between those different realms of the art world. It's an experiment I haven't done yet.
