Growing up, there was always music around. Not because it was given to me, but because I took and consumed it in every possible way.
Every album I could lay my hands on, I listened to until I knew every note to every word.
Music gave me all the things I didn’t have as a child. Stability, confidence, quiet and a safe place to go to when it was all too much for me to handle. It has always been the calm in all the chaos, understood me when I couldn’t understand myself, gave me security when I was feeling lost and alone.
It took a long time for me to call myself a musician. I’ve been putting my feelings into words and melodies for as long as I can remember, but the thought of putting out something so close to myself, so deeply personal combined with the feeling of not being good enough has held me back for a long time. Until the day I suddenly lost someone very close to me and realized that life’s way too short to not do the thing that makes my heart jump the most: music. So my focus shifted from bartending and studying anthropology and classical archeology (which I both still love doing very much) to seriously putting myself and my music out there.
The music I make today, the songs that I write are a product of all those things that shaped me as a person: childhood trauma, unbelievably painful loss and heartbreak and years of severe depression and not being kind to myself. But the songs I write are also a product of the things that have inspired me and gave me the strength to get through all that life threw at me: all the beautiful encounters, the love I was able to feel and spread and the people I was lucky enough to meet and call my friends and (chosen) family.
The music that shaped me as an artist could not be more diverse. There’s not a genre, not a band I wouldn’t listen to if the music they made could either make me dance or cry my heart out. All my heroes, from Debussy and Duke Ellington, James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, Prince or more recent artists like Dave Grohl, John Mayer or BANKS have one thing in common even though their music may be very different: it made me feel things and feeling things has always been incredibly hard for me. The music they make, the music I make comes from a place within our hearts that other things are not able to reach. Music is my language to speak about the unspeakable, feel the unfelt and reach the unattainable. The sound surrounding the words are as rough and tender real and diverse as the emotions I put into writing and singing and all together it all creates music that I connect and refer to deeply, in hope that you can find yourself or get lost in it, too.
When & Where
|20th October||Lübeck||Riders Cafe|