MJORN MUSIC

Revealing the last secrets behind working on my debut EP. If you missed the previous two article parts, it’s better to start with them here and here.

Multilayered Disillusion

I’ve put too many hopes onto this melody since it was born like a proper piano piece – not in front of the computer, but at the grand piano keys, start to finish.

That was an ecstatic experience, for sure. I was happy and proud of my music baby, but every child would sooner or later either discover their own path or would break under a parent’s overcaring attitude. I failed this music child of mine and realized it only when it was too late.

I added too many timbres and voices into the dough of the piece, so it never rose into the proper bread. It broke into three independent melodies instead, one of which sounds suspiciously like the famous saxophone solo on Careless Whisper. Ouch.

I am surely going to revive this music baby with an acoustic piano solo version or some kind of a remix in the future.

Stravinsky: Dilluted

I was happy to be able to add something like drums to my music since at that point I wanted to go into a more rhythmic and electric direction, and this piece was supposed to act as a bridge (thus the title).

I didn’t really manage to plunge into that genre yet, but when I do, I will connect a new piece to this one with a title of Bridge from.

1+1=3

Let’s end with the beginning: the title of the entire EP.

Linear — is a reminder to myself, that every piece is very similarly structured, and a promise to try something new next.

The music turned out to be asking questions without giving any answers, which invites you to come up with your own reply as you listen. I just need to ask the right questions.

I believe in the power of naming, so it was extremely important to name my projects correctly, to enrich their meaning. That is why the working titles of the pieces in my debut EP tell the entire story of the creative process and the sources of inspiration.

None of the pieces could avoid being renamed from their working titles.

The first piano draft I recorded on my old phone in my favorite old concert hall was called Lopsided due to an uneven rhythm, bad recording quality, somebody walking and coughing in the background. Its own charming imperfect atmosphere.

The first proper version of the piece inherited some of the draft’s limp and earned the name Uneven. This time the title was motivated by the conversation of melodies towards the end of the piece – the same voice in different octaves.

The melodies are stumbling, awkwardly trying to give way to each other, trying to start from different spots, and finally manage to play unison one last time.

By the way, the ghost is neither friendly nor malicious: it’s too weary for that.

Every new version of the piece is in some way looking back to its origin, but going into the new direction anyway.

Most of my visuals are black and white not just because it’s beautiful, but also to conceal my limited editing skills, oops.

I’m going to give a better glance into the history of my debut EP through the working and public titles.
There is a part one, which you can read here.

Working title — Frahm

Finally, a half-forgotten music school and piano lessons resurfaced and brought me to the realm of my favorite Nils Frahm. His music made me realize the unimportance of complexity and rigid structures.

It turned out that music can both enchant you and give you some headspace; that you can express complex ideas with basic melodies.

My significant other came up with a perfect name for this kind of art: reflective minimalism. I want to capture this reflexiveness and to wrap it in my music whatever style I might be trying out.

Frahm’s Frahmness

Push and Pull is frahm-ish in many ways, starting with a tonal ambiguity: it’s a dish of two harmonic centers with a spice of different minor modes.

Another frahm-ish detail is the proportion of electric and acoustic sounds. It’s an old trick that never fails to impress me in other people’s music. Naturally, I wanted to try it out.

Before releasing anything, I show all of my pieces to one piano virtuoso, and when I let him listen to the final version of Push and Pull, he was sure I subconsciously borrowed something from Nils Frahm. Together we scoured through his discography and reached the conclusion that my virtuoso just remembered the early draft of Push and Pull instead.

If that’s not flattering, I don’t know what is.

The poetry of Push and Pull

The title of Push and Pull is proudly stolen from Avatar: The Last Airbender, where the relation of the Moon and the Ocean is described this way.

The description really stuck with me, and I carried it through many years, so finally getting to use it somewhere gave me a huge inspiration kick.

The melodies are like waves – reaching out to you, retreating, reaching out again. There are no sudden jumps, everything is smooth, gentle, repeating and flexible.

The shining pad starting in the middle of the piece serves as a reflection of the Moon on oceanic waves: the light only reaches the surface but captures all attention.

Finally, the electric sound in the end. It doesn’t abide by the rules of the waves. It’s sharp, jumpy, standing out on the oceanic background. This is the chaotic life energy from which all life emerged once; it’s an invisible unknown, which we try to transform into something familiar to be able to grasp.

The attempt to reflect something so fundamental in my music is extremely ambitious, but I glad I tried.

Don’t forget to read the last chapter of Linear EP release notes!