Kesang Marstrand - The Gentlest Sound

Some time ago, in these pages, while reviewing the debut of a young American musician, Kesang Marstrand, we asked ourselves what the "special" ingredient was that had turned "Bodega Rose" into an unexpected concentrate of strong, lingering emotions, and that had given that rare feeling, so unmistakable in this case, of finding oneself in front of a small but significant "event". And, back then, we ventured the hypothesis that one of the reasons behind those feelings might be the sincerity of her musical approach. Having had the chance to meet young Kesang in person and to hear one of her impromptu, intensely powerful acoustic performances in Rome, the idea that sincerity and passion are the secret ingredients that this New York musician - now based, for personal reasons, in Tunisia - pours into her music is something more than a simple hypothesis.

What follows is an account of our meeting with the warm and gracious Kesang, on a Roman Sunday afternoon, comforted by a deceptive springtime warmth and by the football commentary drifting in from balconies and open windows.

You're still very young. When did you start playing and when did you start writing your own songs?

I started around 17-18 years old... More or less when I started playing guitar. It was only then that I began singing and playing my own songs. Before that, though, I studied piano, and I started singing as a child. I've always been very interested in music, but it was picking up the guitar that pushed me to write my first songs.

And what inspires you? What feelings help you write a song?

Mmhh, that's not an easy question to answer: for me, inspiration can come from so many different directions. Often I get a visual kind of inspiration: it can simply come from seeing something beautiful, like while walking around Rome. I couldn't say exactly what - it could be a statue, a monument, but also just a plain building, even just the combination of colors on a facade. Often it's just simple things like that.

As for feelings, those aren't easy to pin down either: usually they're very abstract sensations, but mostly they're perceptions that have to do with space, with the vastness of the horizon in front of me. Sometimes it might sound a bit bleak, but it happens that the feelings are triggered by an empty room or a deserted street or a big piazza with no one in it.

Or, again, that particular blue light you can catch at dawn: that's it! That light makes me especially alert and ready, and it inspires me a lot when I'm writing.

So you don't need to feel sad at all to find inspiration, as so many artists claim?

No. I'd say definitely not. The feelings that inspire me often go beyond my momentary moods.

How do you start writing your songs? Do you always start from the guitar?

Mostly I use the guitar. Sometimes I take the risk of using other instruments too, but I'm more comfortable with the guitar. There are times when I don't have my guitar with me and an idea pops into my head, so I try to play whatever I find at hand, especially because I don't carry a recorder around to capture my spontaneous ideas. Every now and then, though, I take the risk of recording on my iPhone.

As for the lyrics, though - do you follow a precise method when writing them? What comes first, the lyrics or the music?

I've talked quite often about the methods songwriters use to write lyrics, and in the end, I've come to understand that quite a few artists do something similar to me. But rather than a real method, I'd call it more of a feeling. Not a feeling that has to do with the meaning of the words, but rather with their sound, their shape, their length and texture. In some way I use a kind of intuition to find the right words for every verse and every line, and I think I can tell when it works and when something isn't quite right. When something's off, I feel it, and it's less a matter of a wrong idea than a lack of flow in the way the song moves - that's what makes me realize it. So a big part of the "method" is about searching for and focusing on certain images: if the images I bring into focus through my words are in harmony with the music, rather than clashing with it, then maybe I've found the right words.

Usually a bit of music comes first, but then things proceed side by side: lyrics and music always develop together, even when, more rarely, everything starts from a single line or phrase.

Your father is from Tibet, your mother is Danish. You were born in Woodstock, you've lived in New York and Seattle, and now you live in Tunisia. How has contact with all these different cultures shaped, and how does it continue to shape, your artistic path?

I think all of that inevitably influences me in some way. Every life experience is important and formative. For me, for instance, growing up in Colorado, in the mountains, was also very important: I lived in a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere until I was sixteen. Nothing but vast horizons and huge mountains in front of me - I think that gave me that sense of silence and space I mentioned earlier, and it was fundamental to my artistic sensibility too. And then there's traveling, listening to music of different genres and styles, coming from sometimes very distant countries. All of this has definitely influenced me and, in a way, shaped my direction.

Is there an artist or a band, though, who particularly influenced you? Someone whose inspiration you feel close to?

I'd say there have been many. But if I have to name one, there's no doubt: Joni Mitchell. There was always something about her I couldn't quite put into words. I could say she was always herself, always did her own thing, unconcerned with trends. She had personality. The way her songs unfold seems not to follow any fixed rules or preordained patterns - they're never necessarily traditional, but they always have superb, original melodic developments.

She's still the artist I've listened to the most since I was a teenager, and she shaped my whole approach in a way: you can write about anything, sing about anything, you can play guitar in a very simple way or a more complex one, but in the end, what really matters is getting across a message, a feeling, an image.

Would you like to collaborate with someone on your songs? Or do you feel they're so personal and so much your own that you couldn't share the creative process?

Oh, yes. I'd like that. In fact, I have a number of projects in the works involving collaborators.

I have a great friend in New Mexico who plays cello, probably my favorite instrument, so heartfelt and deep, and she and I started playing together back when we both lived in New York. We make a great match, since she has a classical, academic background and often sings the harmonies too. I'd really love to finally record something with her.

As for collaborating with some famous name, I couldn't say. I love Peter Gabriel and I think it would be truly fascinating to work with him and his World Music label. I'm sure he'd have some interesting suggestions for me. But there are so many artists I admire that I really wouldn't know where to start.

Your second album, "Hello Night" is an album of lullabies, but not all the lyrics seem to be written and intended for children - as if some songs, dealing with more intimate and personal subjects, were skillfully disguised as lullabies. Is that true, or is it just an impression?

That's true, no doubt about it. As far as I'm concerned, I love so-called children's music, and I also love a lot of music that, while not specifically for children, is what I grew up with: musicals like "The Sound Of Music" ("Tutti insieme appassionatamente", ed.) or "Fiddler On The Roof" ("Il Violinista sul tetto", ed.). Basically, I think songs are for everyone and don't address any particular audience. We often define as children's music any song that doesn't have sad, disillusioned, decadent lyrics, but maybe we're wrong to do that.

For example, the song "Among The Green Leaves". Well, in that song I wrote the first two verses for myself: I was going through a very difficult time and I needed to write something that was mine, something that represented me. I was full of fears back then, fears in every area of my life. So I wrote, speaking to myself: "Don't be fooled by the shadows of trees/ Songbirds are sleeping among the green leaves". Deep down I was just trying to convince myself that even when a situation is truly dark and frightening, there can always be comforting, pleasant surprises hidden within it: songbirds, evergreen leaves. It was only later, while working on the lullabies album, that I found those lines again and decided to use them as a lullaby. I hope I've somehow answered your question.

For your first album you worked with a producer, while the second was recorded only with the help of a sound engineer. Why did you choose these different approaches?

Basically, the producer of the first album, "Bodega Rose", Karl Berger, is a family friend. I've known him my whole life and I've always admired and respected him both as a man and as a musician. I got in touch with him mainly because, to be honest, I didn't even know where to start when it came to recording an album. So I needed someone I trusted to help me with everything, including finding a suitable studio. Even the very idea of a producer was, at the time, something I struggled to fully grasp: I wasn't even entirely clear on what exactly a producer was supposed to do, what his role was, or how much he could and should influence my music.

And what conclusion did you come to? Do you think a producer is important in giving your compositions a different touch? Or do you think it's better to work alone and avoid too many outside influences?

I think it depends a lot on the person you decide to work with and on what you're looking for. First of all, if you work with a producer, you have to believe in him deeply. I absolutely believe that a good producer can turn a mediocre album into a great one, into something truly exciting.

The thing is, when you're working on your own compositions, it's always hard to judge them objectively: you've followed them from the very beginning, from the very first word. You can become too attached, too fond of them, and so you don't even realize when certain passages are wrong, maybe boring or overlong. And you need someone who, with some distance, can point these things out to you, maybe suggest putting the emphasis on certain aspects of a song rather than others, making sure different sides of a song can really come through. Ultimately, I believe a trusted producer, one the artist really connects with, can be an enormous help.

So for the next album, are you thinking of working with a producer?

Honestly, I couldn't say yet. Right now I'm having fun experimenting with my arrangements, my ideas, with new instruments. But so far I've only sketched out the bare bones of the songs. Also, now that I'm in Tunisia, I'm trying to use local instruments, letting myself be shaped a bit by the atmosphere of the place. I don't know yet. We'll see.

So could your new album be influenced by Tunisian music and culture?

More than by Tunisian music, I think it will be influenced by the experiences I'm having there. By the feelings I get just from walking down streets so different from the ones I was used to. Sure, this different culture is influencing me, no doubt about it, but it's the same kind of things that influence me wherever I am: everything around me becomes part of my inspiration. And then, obviously, such a sudden change, and a certain sense of disorientation, partly due to using a language other than my own, gives me new sensations in some way. And they're good, fresh sensations.

What I maybe didn't expect, going to Tunisia, is that after the first few months, during which I was convinced I wanted to fully immerse myself in Tunisian music, learn to play their traditional instruments, get to know local musicians, I suddenly found myself drawn again, in a way I hadn't felt in a long time, to American country music. I felt the need to listen again to artists like Patsy Cline. Probably out of a kind of nostalgia for what I had left behind, and which, in some way, I missed. So the first things I wrote in Tunisia are much closer to simple country songs than anything I'd ever written before.

I don't know if you've also noticed how many young female artists have turned to folk in recent years. Do you think the large number of female folk singer-songwriters is due to a particular sensibility typical of the female world?

Honestly, I've noticed it too, and it strikes me as strange. And it all happened so suddenly. When I was eighteen, it wasn't easy to find contemporary reference points for a girl getting into this kind of music. So I listened to Joni Mitchell and Ani Di Franco and Susan Vega, and I was always on the lookout for new artists who inspired me and who were close to my own sensibility. But it wasn't easy back then. And now, seemingly out of nowhere, dozens of them have popped up. I couldn't really say why. In the meantime, my musical tastes have changed a bit, so I listen to fewer female folk singer-songwriters these days.

What genre are you leaning towards in your listening these days?

I'm increasingly interested in instrumental music, although I wouldn't really know how to classify the music I'm listening to or looking for at the moment. I'd say jazz, but certainly not jazz standards, and even less that kind of jazz built on virtuosity and a certain coldness. I really love Avishai Cohen, the Belgian pianist Wim Mertens, and the Italian double bassist Ezio Bosso. Instrumental music creates in my head that sense of space and that environment which I also need in order to compose.

Both your albums are self-produced. Have you ever thought about pitching your music to established labels, whether indie or major? And why haven't you done it before?

I'm starting to think about it now. But before, quite simply, I didn't feel ready. I was always working to grow, to improve myself, to finally be good enough. And I didn't believe I was yet. And I don't know if I ever will be, at least not to the standard I personally think is necessary.

I always thought that before taking this step I'd need to find, not necessarily a style of my own — actually, I wouldn't mind at all if it stayed changeable forever — but at least to feel more comfortable in my own skin, as an artist.

Speaking of feeling comfortable: how do you feel on stage? When you play live are you relaxed?

Not particularly, to be honest. I avoided it for a long time, but if I want to get my music out there I suppose it's a necessary step, even if I still feel pretty shy. But my ideal state remains just being on my own, writing songs.

But don't you think playing live is the most effective way to share your music with listeners?

I think so, at least from a certain point of view. But for me, as much as music is the most important thing in my life, even just as a listener or a fan, I've never felt that need so strongly. When I lived in New York there were always so many interesting shows going on, but I'd usually only realize it the next day, and I didn't even feel that bad about missing them. Maybe it has to do with the fact that, for me, to truly love a song, I've always had to listen to it alone, maybe while travelling.

And what's your relationship with the internet, instead? You know a lot of people download your music for free. Do you see it simply as a great opportunity to reach as many people as possible, or does that idea bother you?

It's totally fine with me! It's something you can't avoid, anyway. It's how people approach music today. And it doesn't bother me at all. Maybe if I approached music differently, or looked at the issue from another angle, my reaction would be different, but right now I'm really happy to think that if someone wants to hear my music, they can have immediate access to it. If that opportunity makes people happy, then I'm happy too.

Lately your collaborations with electronic artists have multiplied (a remix of "Bodega Rose", a techno track you lent words and voice to, an electronic album, "Vast Days", on which you wrote the lyrics for three tracks and performed them). Is that just a coincidence, or are you particularly interested in that side of music?

They're mostly one-off cases: the "Bodega Rose" remix came about because a Tunisian DJ saw a video of mine, shot in a park in Seattle, in which I perform the traditional song "Aman Aman", and after listening to the album he asked if he could remix that track. In the other cases too, it was the artists themselves who reached out. But I said yes mainly out of curiosity: I was curious to see whether I was capable of lending my voice to a dance track. And it was fun. But I don't know if I'll do more things like that. I still have so many things I really want to do. I still have so many goals to reach, with my guitar!

Would you like to write music for a film? Or have one of your songs used in a soundtrack? Have you ever thought about a particular film, or a particular director?

I think I'd like both. And working with a director like Michel Gondry would be wonderful.

How do you picture yourself in ten years? An established rock star? A housewife? A mother? A silly question, maybe.

No, not at all! Can I be all of those at once? I definitely see myself as a mother. But I'd like to have the chance to do exactly what I want. I want to be brave enough to pursue what I desire and follow my heart, both artistically and personally.

Karl Berger, the producer of "Bodega Rose" and owner of the studio where I recorded my albums, says that a musician's path is a succession of experiences: studying, meeting people, moving forward, meeting other people, living through different situations and always learning something from them. So that your path in life can open up naturally before you, and so I only hope to have opportunities in life and find the strength to seize them.

A deep answer to a stupid question…

One last question: can you explain to yourself and to others what drives you to write music?

I think so. The answer is simple: I do it because I have to. Because it comes to me spontaneously. If I didn't do it for a while, if for some time I didn't pick up my guitar and play, for whatever reason, I wouldn't feel like myself anymore, I'd feel empty, on edge. In a way, it has to do with being myself, with expressing what I am, with feeling at ease, with being natural.

(24/05/2010)

Thanks to Sebastiano Iannacchione for the photographs

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