Published
Part 1
Name: Matilda Tjäder
Nationality: Swedish,Copenhagen-based
Occupation: Visual artist, sound artist, composer
Current release: Matilda Tjäder's new album Shelf Life is out via Doyenne.
Shoutouts: I try to visit Norbergfestival in Sweden every summer, and have been there in all different capacities- as a volunteer, artist and guest. In general, I always admire artists creating space for other artists. One example is the label Doyenne Books, run by Flora Yin Wong, on which I’m releasing Shelf Life - publishing music, writing and ephemera.
Hometown Recommendation: The sea.
If you enjoyed this Matilda Tjäder interview and would like to know more about her music and upcoming live dates, visit her official homepage. She is also on Instagram, 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 is true that these borders are blurred, which is symptomatic of a paradigmatic shift away from craftsmanship and towards image.
For me, what makes someone a composer is the courage to take an idea to a place of intention, a place in which abstraction can occur to the composer and the listener. To trust that the work will alter throughout the course of the process, and to let go of a fixation of a final destination.
To be a composer today you need to develop a filter that keeps you aware of what frequencies serve you, and which ones you need to eq. It’s the era of the entertainer, which of course might be an exciting place for some. But without a secure place of return, I think this entertainment and its economy quickly expires. Time is capricious.
I try to remind myself of the inherently public aspect of making work for an audience, and how intense that actually is. It comforts and balances me to engage with others’ works, both as a listener and as a facilitator. This is something I’ve done a lot through the platform for sound and time based arts ’Scaling’ that I founded in 2022, with a base in Malmö.
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?
On an ideological level I agree, the western classical tradition is a hegemonic minefield! But, on a personal level it’s a different story.
Growing up in Sweden, I was privileged to attend subsidised musical training in classical piano from a young age - rooted in an idea of ’folkbildning’ (popular education). Without my parents' knowledge, I applied for and attended a so called ’music profile class’ in the public schooling system from when I was nine.
This has inherently made me relate classical music to public domain, rather than an elitist activity reserved for the few. I wrote orchestral arrangements and attended Chopin seminars on weekends, which is just absurd to think back on today. Ultimately it lead me to quit music right after high school, only returning back to making sound and music a decade later when I started to score my own performance work.
In fact, most of my released musical work consists of scores for performances. An early example was Music for 1 Piano and 4 Hands (2020), a collaboration with Alex Pierce (Yem Gel), whom I studied with at Goldsmiths.
I had written a monologue for a performance about a real estate agent selling property in an interdimensional world. The piece played with the hypnotic, seductive power of entrepreneurial language, and the piano was intended to help these sales pitches find their way straight into the audience’s wallets.
During rehearsals, we discovered a strong musical chemistry that continued in our conversations, and decided to release the work as an album. We recently recorded a second part, due for release in 2027.
It took me a long time of improvising to feel free from the role of interpreting other people’s works through sound. Approaching music- and the piano, my classical instrument - from a different discipline was instrumental in that process.
Another example is Shelf Life: An Opera (2025), that I staged with collaborators Mathias Tang, Penny Yiou Peng, and Thibaut Knapp, based on a libretto that I wrote and scored. As we developed the press release, we couldn’t decide what title to give it. An ’Opera’ Penny proclaimed, which sat well with me as an avid Robert Ashley fan. The work consists of 17 acts, with only one act sung with operatic technique (by Thibaut) and some people (one or two opera singers) got really upset, and thought we made claims on a musical genre without living up to its demands.
This was really productive and fun for me to witness, and in a later work, City Opera (2026), I decided to work closely with an opera singer (Vanja Spolin)- only existing as a recorded voice, to whom the performers on stage would lip sync to.
As of today, what kind of materials, ideas, and technologies are particularly stimulating for you?
Working with collaborators, performers and musicians is incredibly stimulating, and challenging at times.
I’m very drawn to open-ended processes that begin with a simple premise: what if someone became obsessed with an expiration date (Shelf Life: An Opera)? What if a portal opened in the strait between Denmark and Sweden (The Strait Trilogy, with artist Asta Lynge, 2020–2023)? Or what if an audience believed a performance was being improvised entirely by a volunteer (City Opera Remix, with artist and performer André Mulzer)?
And to let these conversations exist as musings in an abstract space, leaving room for thought. Where there is nervous tension or level of sloppiness in a work, there is also an immediate requirement for the audience to engage with something that is really in a process.
Currently, I’m challenging myself to confront the vulnerability of my unprocessed voice, working with a vocal trainer who specialises in extreme vocals. It’s equally terrifying and beautiful to be introduced to this technology located inside of my own body.
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 really depends! Whether I’m already in the mindset of a context in mind, or just in a generally open mindset. I do however know that when I believe in an idea, I chase it to its roots, often in quite a scattered manner, like a retired detective who’s lost track of the original case.
I’m very moved by reading articulate and bold descriptions of artists’ intentions behind a work, for instance Maryanne Amacher’s insistent letters to institutions outlining the exact conditions for setting up her work.
Or political works that criticise or sidestep the industry altogether, such as Cornelius Cardew’s Scratch Orchestra or Dumb Type’s performances addressing the media silence and stigma surrounding the AIDS epidemic through signals and noise.
Tell me a bit about the sounds & creative directions, artists & communities, as well as the colleagues & creative hotspots of your current hometown, please. How do they influence your music?
Since I’ve moved between cities a lot, I think if anything there is a level of that uprooting and restlessness present in the work.
I’m generally inspired by artists who make space for others and create room for audiences. That takes time and effort. I definitely thrive in places that feel a bit unpredictable and aren’t weighed down by legacy or friend bracelets.
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’m definitely approaching the tension between tradition and questioning its boundaries, or its latent scripts.
Understanding why you are pulled towards something is key, and understanding whether you are contributing, challenging or just appropriating. A level of medium analysis is always present, at least to me, in what I compose.
How much potential for something “new” is there still in composition? What could this “new” look like?
I guess for me, the new is about taking risks without knowing where something will end up- in the bin or at the opera house!
I’m generally wary of claims to originality, as they often carry a patriarchal idea of ownership, as if a work could emerge from thin air. There is so much gate-keeping, and illusions around being an expert of a concept. I personally prefer being a novice, rocking my vestibular system to get a bit out of balance.
At the same time, I get really, really tired of music trying to sound like it was made in a different era. There’s a distinction between being influenced and being a cover-band.
