Name: Klaus Sahm
Occupation: Composer, producer, multi-instrumentalist, improviser
Nationality: German  
Recent release: Klaus Sahm's Cycles is out via Blue Marble. The EP is a tribute to Sahm's "little brother and best friend, who suddenly passed away in 2022." The choice of vinyl for the release was deliberate, as Klaus "grew up listening to fairy tales and children's audiobooks at my grandparents' house on vinyl” - together with his brother.

If you enjoyed this interview with Klaus Sahm and would like to stay up to date with his music, visit his official website. He is also on Instagram.

As a musical director, Klaus Sahm has worked for a wide range of German artists, including Madeline Juno.

[Read our Madeline Juno interview]



Many of us associate music with phases of life which are particularly vivid, intense and important. Do you, too – and if so, what are examples of this? What is it about music that makes it so particularly powerful as a celebration/intensifier/diarist of life?

Music has served as a diary for me for as long as I can recall.

Punk rock and hardcore music were instrumental during my early teens. These genres carry a distinct timestamp, marking a specific phase in my life. They are intertwined with memories of family, friends, my first concerts, and even the formation of my first band.

After reading your open letter to your brother, I noticed that there is no mention in it of music. Did you share musical experiences as well in some form?

We formed a hardcore band named "Shepherd," which was, in essence, a family affair. My brother was the vocalist and lyricist, a cousin from my father's side played bass guitar, another cousin from my mother's side was on drums, and I took on the guitar. In 2011, we recorded a single EP titled Sing This Ink.



Beyond our band, our shared love for music manifested in various forms over the years. Our audiophile tendencies led us to trade vinyl, debate the merits of different sound systems, and hunt for rare records.

Have music or other forms of art offered you concrete solace in the face of death or very difficult phases in your life?

Absolutely. Music has consistently served as a sanctuary for me, spanning various genres. If there's an element within the music that resonates—whether it's the lyrics or the composition—it significantly aids in processing my emotions.

When an artist expresses the pain of losing someone dear through their song or creative expression, it deeply moves me. I can empathize with their situation and genuinely "feel" the emotions they are, or were, navigating.

You've hinted at it already, but I'd be interested in what you were able to express through music but not through words or anything else? Was it a feeling of working through the emotions – of allowing something to be released - until you were able to verbalise them?

There are still sentiments tied to my brother's passing that I struggle to articulate. Music, and the spontaneous process of composition, has been my sole avenue for expression in these instances.

Some tracks on the EP were recorded just once, often late at night, when the emotions were raw and immediate. It's an intensity of feeling I hadn't experienced in quite that way before.

For instance, when I hear "Unfold," it takes me back to the overwhelming emotions I grappled with during an 8-hour train journey home after being hit with the heart-wrenching news.



To me, one of the distinct qualities of music is that it can make us experience the sensation of absence – the absence of a space, a feeling, or someone loved. I could imagine that this is what drove the music on Cycles as well. Can you talk about this absence – what it feels like, what it entails?

Describing this absence is challenging, primarily because it feels so otherworldly—akin to a detachment from reality. The deeper I ponder or reflect upon it, the more dreamlike it appears, even though I've come to terms with the events and acknowledge the omnipresence of death.

This void has reshaped my reality, where it persists as an ever-present entity. It's like observing a painting that, all of a sudden, bears an unmistakable void.

The death of a loved one can make us acutely aware of our own mortality. What was this like for you and how did you deal with it? What's your own view on life and what happens when it ends?

The passing of my brother profoundly influenced my perceptions of life and death. In search of understanding, I delved into various books that approached the subject from different angles. This literary exploration greatly aided in my emotional processing.

My profession as a paramedic constantly confronted me with the fragility of life, whether on the streets or within hospital walls. I've become acutely aware that life is a finite journey, and none of us truly has control over its culmination.

Reflecting on my brother's departure, I harbor immense gratitude for the moments we shared. This appreciation has inspired me to emphasize the significance of every connection and cherish every day even more.

One aspect mentioned in the press release and through the title of the EP is  the cyclical nature of life and death. How does it change from being a realisation into a consolation – can it ever be?

Meditation has been instrumental in this journey. Through it, I reflect upon my transient position in this world and strive to fully embrace each moment.

By grounding myself in the present, I find a deeper connection to life's cyclic rhythm.

What was the process for capturing the pieces on Cycles like? The music has a strong feeling of in-the-momentness to it, as though they could end at every moment or go on forever …

Each piece on Cycles had its unique genesis.

When I began structuring the initial ideas, I was clear about their chronological sequencing. The EP chronicles my emotional journey—starting from the initial devastating call, moving through the funeral, and culminating with a lullaby.

While some titles materialized instantly upon pondering the theme, others evolved from specific motifs, as evident in "Waltz for M."



A recurring aspect of many tracks is their inherent simplicity and the way they employ repetition.

Did other friends and family already hear the music? If so, what was the response like?

My family was the first to hear the early sketches and recordings, primarily because they could deeply resonate with the sentiments expressed. Their reactions were profound and deeply emotional.

Encouraged by their feedback, I decided to finalize the project. Originally, I hadn't intended to release it in this form, but the idea evolved after sharing the first versions with them.

You've spoken about the “violence” of emotions upon hearing the news and also that the music took you to that place when you re-listened to it. I am wondering if, as is often the case, you also heard something more hopeful in the music – a sense of hope in between the violence and sadness?

Indeed. "Waltz for M" is a beacon of hope and solace. Composed with my mother and my brother’s wife in mind, it's a piece wherein I endeavored to weave a soothing, yet genuine melody, essentially conveying the sentiment, "All will be well in time."

The concluding track, "Lullaby," is also tinted with hope and comfort.



However, it is peppered with harmonic nuances that add depth to its simplicity. Notably, this piece resonates most with my mother, making it her favorite from the EP.

Many artists in similar situations will often describe the writing and recording process as “therapeutic.” It's not a word found in the notes to this EP. In which way and to what degree was it “healing” - if at all?

Engaging in the writing and recording process served a therapeutic purpose for me, as it granted me an outlet to articulate my emotions.

Just as in therapy, verbalizing fears, recounting experiences, and addressing inner turmoil can break the relentless cycle of rumination. Through my recordings, I was not just vocalizing but also visually depicting the turbulence within.