Name: Jung Jaeil
Occupations: Composer, producer
Nationality: South Korean
Current Release: Jung Jaeil's Listen is out via Decca.

If you enjoyed this interview with Jung Jaeil and would like to find out more about his music, visit him on Instagram.



Where does the impulse to create something come from for you? Does your inspiration come from dreams, other forms of art, personal relationships, politics?

The impulse comes from everything. It comes from dreams, other forms of art, personal relationships, and politics.

Every day, I sit in front of my musical instrument, which I call my native language, and I start to improvise like I’m meditating. During that meditation, everything that’s been carved deep inside my body naturally comes out and becomes something new with harmonies and melodies.

Of course, I’m fascinated by those sparkling, miraculous moments and genius ideas. But what gives me the most powerful inspiration is someone who’s devoting their daily life sincerely and ascetically.

For you to get started, do you need a concrete idea – do you have a 'visualisation' of the finished work? How do you balance planning and chance?

I rely on coincidence.

Usually, I work for other artists, such as film directors, dancers, or singers, who give me their ideas and concepts. I listen to these very carefully to interpret into music. I could call it a concrete idea, but sometimes, I let the ideas walk on a different, totally whimsical path.

It could be a failure (most of the time) and it could be a total success … I’d prefer to take the latter.

How do you prepare before creating? Do you require your tools to be laid out in a particular way, for example, do you need to do 'research' or create 'early versions'?

Absolutely, I research every time.

For example, when I was scoring for Parasite, director Bong wanted a baroque approach.



As a self-taught composer, who doesn’t know traditional music theory, I had to research baroque music every day and night, before I could then compose the score, which I now call a Pseudo-Baroque.

Do you have certain rituals to get you into the right mindset for creating? Do certain foods or stimulants like coffee, lighting, scents, exercise or reading poetry play a part?

As I mentioned, making music every day, like a daily meditation, is very important for me. So, I guess my ritual is just playing every day.

Sometimes a glass of wine or listening to classical music can be helpful. I used to play Goldberg Variations by J.S. Bach every time I woke up in the morning, it’s written for the harpsichord which has no pedals unlike the piano, which means you are naked in front of that instrument. You should play each note, interval, and rhythm very carefully.

You are not allowed to make it fancy or spruce it up. You should be very humble and honest in front of Goldberg. But most importantly it should be yours. You could call that a ritual.

What do you start with? How difficult is that first line of text, the first note?

Everything starts from improvisation. It fails most of the time.

But sometimes you capture something significant after so many days of failure. That’s when it really starts.

Once you've started, how does the work gradually emerge?

Sometimes it emerges in the blink of an eye. Sometimes it becomes a failure and gets thrown into the garbage can. Sometimes I comb through that garbage can. Sometimes it emerges as a different species.

Everything happens.

Many writers have claimed that as soon as they enter into the process, certain aspects of the narrative are out of their hands. Do you like to keep strict control over the process or is there a sense of following things where they lead you?

Coincidence and improvisation are key to my composition.

Often, while writing, new ideas and alternative roads will open themselves up, pulling and pushing the creator in a different direction. Does this happen to you, too, and how do you deal with it? What do you do with these ideas?

I really love to let things happen and I rely on that. I’ve been collaborating with traditional musicians and traditional / ancient music really has no composers.

You could say the Western tradition of composition is vertical (composer - conductor - performers) and the Eastern tradition is horizontal, it is truly created by performers, for performers. I try to keep myself as one of the performers when I approach in the traditional way.

While improvising, I capture the moment and design it in my own way as a scorer, and composer.

There are many descriptions of the creative state. How would you describe it for you personally? Is there an element of spirituality to what you do?

Well, nothing special … but … Whenever I watch a beautiful piece of dance performance, especially the great choreographer Pina Bausch, I feel baptized and I feel alive.

I become like a new-born, innocent child.

Especially in the digital age, the writing and production process tends towards the infinite. What marks the end of the process? How do you finish a work?

I’m fascinated by so many tremendous digital works, and I believe one day AI could compose a grandiose symphony.

I’ve been working for 27 years and I’m of a generation that has experienced both analogue and digital at the same time. Personally, I would love to remain in the analogue world. To perform on stage, with instruments made of wood and the movement of human bodies.

Well … that said, I’m not able to finish my work without my laptop …

Once a piece is finished, how important is it for you to leave it and come back to it later on? How much refinement do you personally allow until you're satisfied with a piece? What does this process look like in practise?

The process of composing, practicing, recording, and mixing a piece means you have to listen to it hundreds of times. So I don’t tend to go back to a piece, because a huge wave of mistakes and embarrassment would strike me.

However, there is an exception, as listening back to some of my pieces brings back the atmosphere at the time of composing them. When I listen to one of my pieces, “Eternity and A Day”, written for the 40th anniversary of the democratic uprising of Gwangju, it always takes me back to that time. The weight of the pressure, the reverent heart for the tragedy and all the struggles and problems I faced.

That atmosphere always makes me face everything straight including my mistakes.

What's your take on the role and importance of production, including mixing and mastering for you personally? How involved do you get in this?

I think I’m just an interpreter for those directors, dancers, and writers who are trying to speak in a musical way.

In regard to the interpretation, for me, recording, mixing and mastering are very essential steps of composing. I have a partnership with a guy called ‘Kim Byung Keuk’ and he’s been mixing all of my works for 25 years. To me, he is an interpreter of sounds who finished my work properly.

After finishing a piece or album and releasing something into the world, there can be a sense of emptiness. Can you relate to this – and how do you return to the state of creativity after experiencing it?

Just live a daily life. That’s everything.

Also, meeting with beloved ones, drinking beautiful wines, and just wasting time in the city of Berlin. Makes me feel alive.

Creativity can reach many different corners of our lives. Do you personally feel as though writing 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 truly believe art is just a kind of labour.

Artists are workers. All of us are special and humble at the same time.