Josin - Dancing in the Void

We catch up with German musician Arabella Rauch, aka Josin, to talk about post-rock echoes, callings that never faded, wrong dreams and voids waiting to be filled…

“In The Blank Space”: why did you decide to title your debut album this way?

It's the title of the last track I added to the record. I was determined to include one more song, so I pushed myself hard to write something. But it just wasn't happening, and for a moment I thought I couldn't create anymore, a kind of block that I tried to force through, until I finally let it go. So I named this track, and later the album, this way, because that feeling of nothingness that surrounds us sometimes actually represents everything. Whatever you desire is right there, if you believe in it. It's in a deep, unknown place that can be whatever you are, and that's exactly how it should be.

And where does your stage name come from, instead?

Behind my moniker Josin, I'm sorry to disappoint you, there's no particular story. I was simply looking for a word that sounded good.

Korean mother, German father: what have you learned from these two such distant and different cultures?

A lot, but nothing I could really put into words. Small gestures, ways of thinking, humor and non-humor. Good things and bad things. Yet nothing that can be pinned down to one specific context or culture. I'd like to have just one identity, but I'm always grateful to carry more than one home inside me.

How does one of your songs come to life? Do you follow a specific process when composing, or does everything happen spontaneously?

That's an interesting question, considering I think about the words after the music. I always start with the music, and the lyrics come as a consequence of the sound. When I was in school I was deeply struck by Goethe's “Faust”. Maybe traces of that show up in my music.

When and how did you decide to make music and give up your medical studies?

When I was on my second attempt at becoming a medical student, I knew I had to listen to that voice inside me. I asked myself what would be the bigger regret: not being a doctor, or not doing what I felt I should, given that I believed I could make music. It was a difficult passage in my life, and I have to admit I did get a degree in Economics two years later. For my mother.

When did you start singing and playing? Who were your musical mentors?

I've been singing and writing songs since I was twelve. My parents were definitely my first mentors. But in a passive way. Mostly by not stopping me from practicing voice and classical music all day long. In truth, they never actually supported me making music as a kid, even though they're both opera singers. I found inspiration in artists like Bjork, Beatles, Sade and later Sigur Ros, Bon Iver and Radiohead.

In "Healing" you sing: "The ever-aching part of me. Only I can't see. It's deep inside of me. The ever-aching memory". So, what's your relationship with melancholy and memories? Where do these lyrics come from?

I think these lyrics come from something that shook me deeply, and there was never a complete healing. Like ghosts. But the ghosts you decide to face. Living with painful memories, emotions unprocessed with people close to you. I think the process of "emotionally purging yourself" is something you have to face sooner or later. It starts with introspection, awareness, and finally deciding to face the pain. I've always been drawn to melancholic feelings, even though I'm a very positive person. But the power of that emotion is more fruitful for art and for making music. I associate melancholy with hope and with the light at the end of a tunnel. So, not really something negative. A song is born the moment I play the piano or sing - it can even be just a fragment - and I feel a slight ache in my chest. That "Ah. Heart attack" moment. That's the moment I connect and try to capture that emotion. Once I've found that spark, I build a song and try to force myself not to open my computer to produce it. I think getting to production too early makes me lazy about writing good songs. If a song doesn't blow your mind on a real instrument, it means it wasn't good, and it all turns into a waste of time. Once I have the song and its structure, I go into the studio and try to push the emotion further through production.

Many say that at times you could be the female version of Tom Yorke. I'm thinking especially of the atmospheres of "Midnight Sun". What do you think of that comparison? Do you find it fitting or completely off the mark?

I take it as a compliment. And if I were a female version of Thom Yorke, that would be fine by me. He's the artist I draw the most inspiration from. His music changed me forever.

You'll be playing in Italy soon. What's your relationship with our country? Have you ever been here? Do you like Italian music?

I love Italian music. Especially the classical kind. It was the greatest privilege of my childhood. I listened to so much of it. My father speaks Italian well, and I spent a lot of time in Italy when we lived in the south of France. I also love the food culture.

You're German, yet you sing in English. Why that choice? Have you ever thought about singing in your own language? 

Even though it's my mother tongue, I've never sung in German. And I don't think I ever will. My vocal cords have been trained with English when it comes to singing. All my childhood teachers sang in English, and it's the first language I started singing in.

In "Evaporation" you talk about time passing too quickly and about evaporations. Yet you're still young. What's your relationship with time? Do you already feel its weight, or will it always remain just an illusion?

Yes, I feel it as a weight, and I never felt it as strongly as the first time I brushed up against the death of someone close to me. That feeling was so paralyzing that the only way to process it was to channel it into a song. And that idea, that nothing can be held onto and that everything, including us, evaporates, has never gone away. Only the shape changes. Time is just something that pushes us toward an end, and maybe it's not even a final one.

What exactly do you mean by "Feral Thing"?

I was watching my dog and thinking: "I love you so much, even though we've never spoken". I was simply thinking about the love you can give another being without asking for anything in return. Loving a wild soul because it's free, not because it belongs to you. It was a beautiful thought, and it inspired me to write that song.

What have you been listening to lately?

I don't listen to a lot of music, but lately I've fallen in love with the Icelandic band Hatari.

Future plans?

My next step is to keep writing and find the time to do it after such a long while. I'm also working on a couple of exciting collaborations that I hope to share with you soon.

Ride the wave of great music

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