Name: Rojin Sharafi
Nationality: Iranian-Austrian
Occupation: Sound artist, composer
Current release: Rojin Sharafi is one of the artists featured on Intended Consequence, an expansive compilation "representing a fresh lineup of Iranian women musicians and producers from across the electronic music spectrum." Her most recent solo album Kariz is out via Ventil.
Recommendations: Book: Glitch Feminism: A Manifesto by Legacy Russell; Film: Playtime by Jacques Tati

If you enjoyed this Rojin Sharafi interview and would like to stay up to date with her music, visit her official homepage. She is also on Instagram, and Soundcloud.



When I listen to music, I see shapes, objects and colours. What happens in your body when you're listening? Do you listen with your eyes open or closed?

During deep listening, I close my eyes, where I experience the most associative visuals. Sometimes, I feel like I can control them, while other times I take on a more passive role. It's reminiscent of lucid dreaming. What I enjoy the most, however, is attributing a narrative to those shapes, colors, and objects after I've listened to a piece.

Upon listening to a piece for the second time, I like to jot down some ideas. When I'm immersed in rhythmic music, I feel the urge to move my body or envision rhythmic patterns that complement the main motive.

In everyday life, I find myself listening to music while cycling, driving, or taking the train. Recently, I've discovered the delight of experiencing multichannel and ambisonics music, which resonates deeply with me.

What were your very first steps in music like and how would you rate the gains made through experience - can one train/learn being an artist?

Absolutely! I'd say that technique and craftsmanship are aspects that artists develop over time. Intuition, on the other hand, is something that gets deeply shaped during childhood and teenage years. However, developing and refining the skill to access intuition more readily and profoundly is something that can be nurtured.

In my opinion, intuition and technique are intricately intertwined, creating a profound connection between the two.

According to scientific studies, we make our deepest and most incisive musical experiences between the ages of 13-16. What did music mean to you at that age and what’s changed since then?

During that time, I enjoyed listening to a mix of music styles. I liked classical music from composers like Ravel and Debussy, and also heavier stuff like metal bands such as Tool. I was into electronic tunes, trip-hop beats, and alternative rock groups like Massive Attack and Radiohead.

But things changed when I started studying music. I began looking beyond just popular songs and started exploring more experimental sounds. I got interested in modern composers like Oliveros, Xenakis, and Furrer, and I also started exploring folk music from different parts of the world.

[Read our Pauline Oliveros interview]

Nowadays, I tend to sort music into categories based on labels. There are certain music labels that I'm curious about because of the kind of music they release. I also pay a lot of attention to recommendations from my friends. It's really cool when they're super excited about an album – their passion is truly infectious!

What, would you say, are the key ideas behind your approach to music and what motivates you to create?

I enjoy the process of making music itself. It's like playing on a playground, where the rest of the world fades away. But I also work through my emotions and find closure with life's events while improvising and composing.

Other times, I like to come up with new ideas or a musical style that I haven't heard before, and it's personally inspiring. I also like diving into musical research, exploring different sounds, techniques or scales.

Creating, rehearsing, and performing music with other musicians also motivates me to keep creating.

To quote a question by the great Bruce Duffie: When you come up with a musical idea, have you created the idea or have you discovered the idea?

I would say created the idea.

Paul Simon said “the way that I listen to my own records is not for the chords or the lyrics - my first impression is of the overall sound.” What's your own take on that and how would you define your personal sound?

My personal sound is simultaneously harsh and delicate, synthetic yet natural.

I'm intrigued by this sense of connectivity.

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”?

I view them as musical sounds. Simultaneously, they serve as a reset, eliminating excessive sound inputs.

It's akin to smelling coffee to better appreciate other fragrances.

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?

I’m drawn to the extremes.

What I, for example, like to experiment with is how long I can keep the tension with instruments that play at a high frequency, after introducing a very groovy bass line or bass drum. I also explore how I can create a complex piece that remains comprehensible for a wider audience.

Furthermore, I challenge myself to craft very quiet pieces that can function in a context where people anticipate hearing very loud music, or vice versa. In an elite political gathering, I contemplate how loudly I can play, essentially working with perceptions and expectations—fulfilling them to some extent while also challenging them.

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?

I would like to talk about my second album, Zangaar. It stands out as one of the most honest projects I’ve done, where the objective was not to create a product.



While traveling with my family, I began writing poems—some rooted in my experiences and others in fictional narratives. Initially, I was unaware that these poems could form an album. My vision involved treating literature and music as equal partners, with neither the music nor the poems taking precedence. Both held equal importance in my creative process.

However, the poems came before the tracks, and the intention was to seamlessly merge them with music. This endeavor flowed smoothly during my journey due to the absence of any external pressure. Upon returning to Vienna, my home base, I embarked on crafting music for each poem based on the imagery and atmospheres they evoked.

Each day, I dedicated myself to working on a single poem, and unexpectedly, I often felt compelled to complete the composition within the same day. The process unfolded swiftly. Subsequently, I recorded the poems.

The mixing phase required more time, particularly given that it was my first album featuring spoken words. I find that I can revisit Zangaar as frequently as I wish—it holds a special place in my creative journey.

Do you conduct “experiments” or make use of scientific insights when you're making music?

I enjoy conducting experiments. Currently, I'm particularly fascinated by the possibilities that multi-channel, especially ambisonics, music provides for experimenting with grooves and layers.

For instance, I'm intrigued by how a groove can be perceived differently, depending on your listening position or the movement of sounds.
Another example is exploring how to integrate Iranian dance music into club settings.

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?

From music, I've learned how to be vulnerable and forge connections.

Different interpretations of a music piece remind me that the interpretation of a life event or happening can vary among different individuals. Similarly, our perception of time is influenced by factors like the tempo or intensity of a musical piece, which can also affect how we perceive time in life.

I've also learned the art of striking a balance between heeding critics and staying focused on my own path. This skill has been invaluable in both my musical endeavors and my personal journey.

Additionally, I've honed the ability to streamline elements or layers, not only in my music but also in various aspects of my life. At times, despite dedicating substantial time, I must bid farewell to a project if it proves unworkable, recognizing that letting go is sometimes necessary for growth. Moreover, I've come to understand that while perfectionism can be a driving force, it can also dampen motivation and hinder the joy of the creative process.

The parallels between music and life are abundant, continuously enriching each other in a harmonious exchange.

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 would say it’s similar. Music and sound are the way that I would like to express myself because they're abstract yet emotional. But I enjoy almost every creative process in life.

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?

“Lanrchi biyé” by Ukandanz ...



“Levitation 21” by Tigran Hamasyan ...



“Thor / Sir Etok” by Hatis Noit



If you could make a wish for the future – what are developments in music you would like to see and hear?

Less Westernised, less market driven.