Name: Katarina Gryvul
Nationality: Ukrainian
Occupation: Composer, music producer, sound artist, violinist, educator
Current release: Katarina Gryvul's new single "VICHNYY VOHON’" is out now via Subtext. It is taken off her upcoming album SPOMYN, slated for release April 9th 2025.
Recommendations für Lviv, Ukraine: I’m afraid that one thing might be a little too little. I would recommend visiting the entire city of Lviv instead.
Topic I am passionate about but rarely get to talk about: I am deeply fascinated by how blind people perceive the world. They experience the surrounding environment completely differently from those who can see, relying more on other senses such as hearing, touch, and smell to form their understanding of the world. It seems they have an enhanced awareness of the world through sound and texture, creating a rich, detailed experience that doesn't depend on sight.

If you enjoyed this Katarina Gryvul interview and would like to know more about her music, visit her official homepage. She is also on Instagram, Facebook, Soundcloud, and bandcamp. 



The borders between producers, sound artists, and even songwriters are becoming increasingly blurry. What does being a composer mean today, would you say?

It seems to me that the further we go, the more we gravitate toward multidisciplinarity.

The role of a composer today is not just about the score but also about the concept, performance, electronic elements, building custom instruments, lighting, video …

In my opinion, it’s very important nowadays to be flexible and open to new things, ready for experiments and quick adaptation to unexpected situations.

Many people perceive classical music and contemporary composition as having high barriers of entrance, both for listeners and musicians. What have your own experiences been in this regard?

I’ve been very lucky — I’ve been professionally involved in music since I was four years old. I can’t really recall a specific moment when I entered the world of contemporary music; it all seemed to happen very naturally. As I grew up, the scope of my musical understanding expanded along with me.

However, I clearly remember one pivotal moment when my composition teacher and I were analyzing Mahler’s symphonies — I was around eight or nine years old. I recall how captivated and deeply impressed I was by them, and I think this attraction to epicness is still very present in my music today.

Over time, I kept discovering new composers like Kaija Saariaho, Klaus Lang, and Panayiotis Kokoras. Since I always had complete creative freedom in composition and none of my teachers ever imposed their own vision on me, I was able to develop my own stylistic approach and remain open-minded toward all musical styles.



As of today, what kind of materials, ideas, and technologies are particularly stimulating for you?

I love discovering new instruments with unconventional sounds — these can be various synthesizers or acoustic instruments. Lately, I’ve been especially fond of the daxophone.

When it comes to technology, I’m very interested in spatial audio and everything related to it.

Where do most of your inspirations to create come from – rather from internal  impulses or external ones? Which current social / political / ecological or other developments make you feel like you need to respond as an artist?  

It mostly comes from the internal. Before starting a composition, I usually begin with a concept — and only after that do I choose different instruments to express it.

I believe that all art is political, and in my work, I always stand for a pro-Ukrainian position. A few years ago, I wrote a piece called Solastalgia built around the concept of changes in the sonic environment we grew up in — and the impossibility of returning to it. This theme resonates deeply for me with the experience of war because my hometown now sounds completely different.

The most painful change for me was during the blackouts in winter when the city was plunged into darkness, and the loud rumble of generators filled the air. Now it’s spring, but I’ve noticed that birds in Ukraine have started imitating the sounds of air raid sirens …

Composing has always had an interesting relationship between honouring its roots and exploring the unknown. What does the balance between these two poles look like in your music?

I feel that the roots of my music are always present, but they’re filtered through the prism of my personal experience.

I often like to use classical structures or certain harmonic turns rooted in Ukrainian folk traditions — but I don’t like to use them directly.



Everything needs to have multiple layers. Only this way can it feel more cohesive and individual.

How much potential for something “new” is there still in composition? What could this “new” look like?

I believe it’s always possible to create something new — the simplest way is to combine something very familiar in an unexpected way.

For me personally, when it comes to music, “newness” is mostly about timbre and space. I dream of discovering a timbre that makes listeners wonder, What is that? How was it created? I know many might be skeptical about this possibility — but I truly believe in it.

What role do electronic tools and instruments play for your creative process? What does your creative space / studio look like and what tools does it contain?

My studio is at home — it’s just another room with speakers and various acoustic instruments and synthesizers. I love having the studio at home because it means I can sit down and work anytime without needing to plan ahead — though I usually plan my schedule very carefully. Still, having the studio right there gives me a certain illusion of freedom.

My collection includes a harp-zither, violin, lots of small wind instruments, superballs, electric guitar, electric bass — and sometimes I borrow a cello. I also have a Buchla Easel with Lem218 and an Erica Synths Stempipe, and I’m currently waiting for my Chromaplane.

I used to be a huge fan of Soma, but I’ve stopped using their instruments because of the political stance of their owner
 
It is my impression that adding a conceptual, non-musical dimension to one's work is almost a prerequisite for commissions and grants. How do you view this tendency and how “conceptual” is your own approach to writing?
 
I love working with concepts — I often explore various psychological disorders in my music, especially those related to sound or speech perception. This helps me maintain a certain focus and define clear boundaries.

Quite often, the concept shapes the musical form or even specific timbral elements, which makes it a crucial part of my composition process.



As a listener, though, the opposite is true for me. I rarely read about the concept behind a piece and prefer to listen without knowing anything about the composer.

I like to experience music as a blank page, without any expectations or preconceptions — as pure essence. Only afterward do I sometimes look into the composition or its creator.

How, would you say are live performances of your music and your recording projects connected at the moment? How do they mutually influence and feed off each other?  

I have two types of live performances: the first is when an ensemble performs my music, and the second is when I perform my own tracks.

In the first case, until the premiere, the composition exists only in my mind — because many extended contemporary techniques can’t really be reproduced in software. I also often try to invent new playing methods or use unusual objects, so the live performance becomes the actual birth of the piece, bringing it from my imagination into reality. It’s an incredibly thrilling feeling — one I’d compare to the creation of a small new world.

When I perform my own pieces, I have a certain "plan" of action, but I can also listen and adjust things along the way. This process feels much calmer, but in some ways, it’s harder — because I become the main resonator, channelling everything directly to the audience.

The hardest part here is staying focused and letting go. I never think about whether the audience likes it or not — on stage, I just try to be with myself and the music. That’s when it feels the most honest.

To some, the advent of AI and 'intelligent' composing tools offers potential for machines to contribute to the creative process. What are your hopes, fears, expectations and possible concrete plans in this regard?

I believe AI will bring a lot of development to music, and I have high hopes for a new type of sound synthesis that could open up an entire palette of timbres.

I see AI more as a tool that can support the creative process rather than a threat.

The Montreux Festival intends to preserve its archive of recordings for future generations. Do you personally feels it's important that everything should remain available forever - or is there something to be said for letting beautiful moments pass and linger in the memories of those that experienced them?

I believe the beauty lies in the moment that happens not yesterday or tomorrow, but right now.

For me, music — at least I can say this for my own — I wouldn't want it to exist forever. Just as I don’t enjoy performing tracks from past albums or old compositions. I very rarely allow my classical pieces to be performed even twice; usually, it’s just one performance, and then I write a new piece for the ensemble.

With an album, it's a bit different, but still, there are certain time frames in which it exists, and after that, it stops existing in that form. Of course, the recording remains, but it’s not a live performance.

The concept of the fleeting nature of things, their transformation, and even complete disappearance resonates with me deeply. When things vanish, their value increases, and your focus shifts to the events of life itself. I would love for my music not to continue living without me. Of course, it’s much harder to do that now than it was before, but ...