Tag: Justina Jaruševičiūtė

  • Musician of the Month: Justina Jaruševičiūtė

    I sit at the piano and a melody flows smoothly from my mind. I think “How great,” and quickly write it down, then continue playing and writing, playing and writing. Feels like I came up with something special this time. I become emotional with excitement and am very pleased. Then a moment passes, and nothingness. Thick darkness appears in front of me, as I realize that I am lying warm and cosy under the black sheets on my bed.

    It was just a dream, again. And again I awaken, unable to remember the notes I had just dreamily composed. This is getting exhausting. A nightmare in reality. Again.

    These dreams happen frequently when I am unable to compose for a period. Naturally, having downtime to put thoughts and emotions together is necessary for every artist. But sometimes the pause is much too long. The more I think in music, the more I feel in music, the more it builds in my head and must be released.

    Sometimes I’m not even sure if I want to write music, or if I have to. Most of the time, it feels as though I have no choice. Melodies and harmonies; they take up so much space in my head. Growing and developing inside, they need to come out. And I have little control over it, so I comply and write it down.

    The most joyful feeling I have is when I say to myself “Ok, looks like I have finished this piece.”

    My debut album ‘Silhouettes’ contains ten pieces for string quartet. You will find a vivid example of my compulsion to write music in a piece called ‘Warum?’. The story behind this composition is sad, yet philosophical. Walking in a small Berlin park at the side of a cemetery, I came to a wall beside a few small gravestones lying in a row. Looking closer, I noticed from the dates that there were small children buried there.

    Nearby, I hear many kids running around, laughing. Observing children happily playing and joyfully screaming with their peers under ground was a surreal moment. The juxtaposition engendered such strong emotions that I ran home to write them out of myself.

    Another piece, called ‘Prayer’, came about spontaneously on a dark and rainy autumn evening. My mind was strained by feelings of longing and hopelessness, sadness and madness. I let them gush out, in tears and notes.

    Most of my inspiration to write music comes from the world that surrounds me. I observe it daily on walks, in talks and relationships, reading news and watching events unravel. My music reflects all these emotions. Often, however, global events, leave me too upset to compose.

    On these occasions I wish to hide from it all, to calm down. I like to imagine myself living on a farm somewhere, far away from everything, with a cat and a dog, growing my own vegetables.

    It probably sounds like I have a love/hate relationship with music, but ‘Silhouettes’ was a turning point in my life – the fruition of a lifelong road in composition. The album was a long time coming despite a connection to music from early childhood, when my parents first took me to the music school.

    Naturally, neither of them could have imagined the path I would take, nor would either of them have wanted me to have fallen under this spell. Now, after years of singing in choirs and playing many instruments (piano, guitar, violin, percussion, bagpipes), I fondly remember myself as a young teenager, sitting at the piano, writing my first pieces, thinking how I wanted to become a composer or a conductor.

    I knew, even then, that I was not a performer, or at least I wasn’t able to discover MY instrument. But I always felt strongly that music was something I wanted to be connected to, that I wanted to dig deep into; that I wanted to understand from other perspectives – that I wanted to create.

    https://soundcloud.com/pianoandcoffeerecords/reminiscence?si=66ba5b8d20c2413490bdc140f2b3694f

    Back then, perhaps I was afraid of the powerful feelings composing awakens. I don’t know. In the end, I selected sound design and engineering and dove deep into my studies. It was those significant experiences that are still helping me in many professional and conventional situations today.

    Unfortunately, working with sound was never very comfortable for me. I spent my life looking to lose myself in one activity or another (I am still very passionate about photography, for example), but have since seen that nothing works as well for my mind as writing music.

    At one time, I wanted to become a tattoo artist. I had been drawing and painting for many years and had even tattooed my own legs. For whatever reason, I left this idea behind (at least for now, but who knows in the future?).

    I still regularly paint and draw, trying out different styles. It’s an important activity for me. I enjoy using watercolours and acrylics the most. Painting has one enormous benefit: I can listen to music while creating.

    My musical taste may seem a little strange since I enjoy looping the same albums or songs, for hours or even days. But I can’t listen to music simply in the background – even when I loop something. I live the music every single time.

    Throughout childhood, I listened more to classical music and different metal bands. But over the last few years, my playlists consist mostly of contemporary classical music, black metal, and Nick Cave. Recently, I’ve added a little techno, ambient and drone. But, one thing has always been clear to me: silence is the best music. And rain.

    For two years, after completing my studies, I managed concerts in a classical music concert hall in Klaipeda. It was amazing working with musicians and composers from all over the world, as well as seeing two or three concerts a week.

    Now I think about how every concert I’ve been a part of and all of the music I’ve listened to were lessons in themselves. They have directly contributed to my current compositional work.

    In 2018, after many ups and downs and changing cities every two years (who wants to hear about my experience living in Moscow?), I began to seriously devote myself to composing. Leaving my past behind, I moved from Lithuania to Berlin, a city that I had only visited twice before, and where I didn’t know another person.

    So I began writing music upon my arrival and in the early days of 2020 I released my first piece for strings, ‘Rituals’, which was inspired by Baltic mythology, folk music, and nature.

    One year on came the release of the aforementioned debut album, ‘Silhouettes’, under the wonderful care of the Piano and Coffee Records label. I’m glad to say that the album was very well received and continues to touch people’s hearts. That makes me extremely happy, and certainly motivates me to keep moving forward.

    As regards the future, to quote Jonas Mekas: ‘I have no idea what winds are driving me and where.’ Now, I am just grateful to be able to work on what I want. Whether it’s writing a new piece or allowing myself to live a slow life. I realise that this is a luxury for many and feel lucky to be able to enjoy it.

    What comes later I do not know. But one thing is certain: new music will be coming out and hopefully soon.

    Follow Justina Jaruševičiūtė on:

    Bandcamp

    Spotify

    Instagram

    Facebook

  • Musician of the Month: Judith Retzlik

    One comment I hear most often is: “you are doing so many different things!” Followed by the inevitable question: “aren’t you doing too many different things?” What I detect behind this question is the idea that everyone should concentrate on a single discipline, and bring it to a certain standard of success within a capitalist system.

    I used to identify as a violin-maker then transformed into a violinist; after that I settled on being a musician, and right now I see myself more as an artist with a scent of activism in the air. But my other shapes are still alive and well. I was never able to do just one thing, and I don’t want to be placed in a single category.

    I chose to play the violin at the age of eight. One of the main reasons was my desire to be a princess, and thinking the violin would make a suitable instrument. The first time I dared go to a lesson without my mom I was allowed to choose a film I wanted to watch as a reward. I chose a Western, which seems a little unsuitable for a princess, but I liked the idea of being both a princess and a cowboy.

    My background is in Classical music, but I soon realized there wasn’t only one type of music I wanted to concentrate on. My musical horizons broadened a lot through my first big love. She showed me artists that opened doors to new worlds. I spent hours in the CD section of the library in my hometown of Celle in Germany to find music that she might like too.

    I became a big fan of Tori Amos and Fiona Apple and tried to sing and play their songs on the piano, when no one was home. I currently play with my first love in an underground duo, covering an unknown band that broke up around fifteen years ago. She plays an out-of-tune e-guitar and I play the three different beats I know on the drums, and we both drink beer.

    Choosing to become a violin maker wasn’t only motivated by passion for this kind of work, but also because I was frightened of entering the professional music world as a Classical musician. After applying to study musical education I never showed up for the entrance exam. I felt that the pressure of the academic system would destroy my love of music, which for me is all about spontaneity, lightness and variety.

    By that time I had already played in various Classical youth orchestras, as well as on the street with a group of friends. So violin-making was a way do dive deeper into the music world from a different perspective, while maintaining a diversity to what I played.

    Image: Justina Jaruševičiūtė

    Lisbon

    After finishing my three year course in France to become a luthier, I moved to Lisbon, and worked in a violin maker’s shop for five years, where my first band came along.

    I have always had an appetite for learning many different things. By that time I had begun learning Japanese, Swedish, and folk dancing, and experienced French culture. I had also taken piano lessons, singing lessons, double-bass and cello lessons. The list goes on.

    I reached the highest point of trying out things in Lisbon. That beautiful city inspired all of my senses. I played in an orchestra, in two bands, for a theatre group, ‘The Lisbon Players;’ and people kept asking, “why I was taking ballet classes instead of concentrating just on the violin?”

    In my view neat lines of separation should not be drawn between: musician or craftswoman; feeling ‘German’ or ‘Portuguese;’ being a shy girl or a party animal; a woman or a man. All these categories limit identities and are often unhelpful. We need to open a space for coexistence.

    Musical Magic

    This moment of convergence is when the magical music happens. When, on a stormy night in Sligo, I played with my band, The Loafing Heroes, the winds merged with the singing, and the alcoholic ecstasy; I found myself sinking into the sound of a wineglass, feeling the glass on my fingers that vibrated along with the waves in the air, connecting present and past feelings, all of us surrendering, and the universe surrendering.

    I do not enter a different world or shape shift, but I bring something with me and act like a linking element between those worlds. And I unite the parts of worlds in myself.

    To give an example: the dancing classes I took with wonderful Rita Lucas Coelho gave me new elements for composing music. She taught me the importance of repetition and stillness in dance, and these are also important elements in music. And life in general too.

    Currently I live in Berlin. It’s the perfect place for people who love walking through different worlds. I have discovered Balkan music and been delighted to experience styles ranging from oriental funeral doom to opera.

    Some Current Projects

    With my folk trio Gerda Vejle we do exactly this type of merging. We cover songs from various countries and styles. What brings it all together is the three of us, our stories. I play the guitar in this trio, even though I am really just a beginner. Music doesn’t live from perfect technique. It helps if you develop it, but music happens as a connection between people and energies. Or a deeper connection with yourself, your story, other stories, and your body.

    I play in  another trio called Schnaps im Silbersee. It is much more focused on lyrics and merging comedy with tragedy. It was something completely new for me to be more direct in my performances and make people laugh.

    Another project I want to present is called Simons Sofa. It is a studio space that opens a time-hole to a fourth dimension, inviting your creativity to flow on a wave of coziness and red wine. Those projects all leave their traces in my music and nourish each other.

    Activism

    Over the last few years I have felt a need to became more of an activist. As a “female” musician it is impossible to ignore the huge inequalities that still exist. There are small things, like that I get a lot more comments about my performance after concerts than male colleagues. Like constant little raindrops, they leave an impact.

    It is mostly men that interrogate my performance about where I was standing on stage; why I wasn’t singing more; why I wasn’t singing louder; why I was moving so much or so little…

    Also, sound technicians tend to treat me as if I don’t know how my own mic works. And I hear  people say: “You will have a good show, as you have a good-looking violinist.” How can you feel valued as a musician after a comment like that?

    Questions like that distract me, and make me question myself and my art. Insecurity stops the flow of creativity, and possibility to dive into a musical moment. So I need extra energy to let those comments pass over me, and remain focused on my art. If I want advice I will ask for it, thanks.

    It’s not at a new topic, so I don’t want to describe in greater detail what a lot of female musicians face. It’s structural discrimination that we all experience.

    Gender Diversity

    There are many reasons why there are more men in music than women. I am playing with the singer Rosa Hoelger who adresses some of these topics in her music, which I appreciate a lot.

    And I am part of a FLINT* (Female, Lesbian, Inter-sexual, non-binary, trans, queer) collective that gives birth to ideas to battle sexism. It is called Visibility-Breakfast, and has almost six hundred members. It was founded by Johanna Amelie and Julia Zoephel in 2017 and aims to enable personal, professional and artistic exchange within the Berlin FLINT* artistic community.

    The objective is to increase the visibility of FLINT* artists in the creative industry and stand up for gender justice, enabling activism and creating the space and impulses for it.

    Uncertain Times

    In these uncertain times, I am curious to find out what the future has in store. I am sure new projects and people will find their way to me and I will find them, as long I keep my senses open and welcoming! As Tori Amos put it, I might even “become a snow witch or maybe a sandwich and melt away and that’s ok I think.”

    Featured Image: Juliette Cellier

    Bands and Projects

    Gerda Vejle
    http://www.gerdavejle.de/

    Schnaps im Silbersee
    http://www.schnapsimsilbersee.de/

    Simons Sofa
    https://www.facebook.com/simonssofa

    Rosa Hoelger
    https://rosahoelger.de/

    The Loafing Heroes
    https://www.theloafingheroes.com/

    Linda und die lauten Bräute
    http://lindaunddielautenbraeute.de/

    Trailer of Performance: ”Chronically Fantastic and the Lady in Red OR Let your Monster be your Friend.“

    Hai La Hora
    https://www.facebook.com/hailahoraorchestra

    Raiments
    https://raiments.bandcamp.com/

    Justina Jaruševičiūtė

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