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09

March, 2026

By: Yves Tassin
Photos: © France Paquay
Traduction : Alain Graff

Jazzmania/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | A Journey With Ola Tunji

A Journey With Ola Tunji

The band Ola Tunji, and particularly its saxophonist Ornella Noulet, have been attracting the attention of jazz fans in recent months, which has sparked the interest of the W.E.R.F. label and piqued our curiosity.

We don’t know much about you yet, but that could soon change. Could you introduce yourself and tell us about your background and musical experience?

Ornella Noulet: I am French and grew up in the suburbs of Paris. I am twenty-four years old. I started playing the saxophone at the age of seven at the Conservatoire des Lilas. Before that, I had taken music lessons and tried several instruments, but the saxophone clearly stood out. At the age of seventeen, I entered the Paris Conservatoire where I studied with Pascal Gaubert. Then, I joined the regional conservatoire and attended Jean-Charles Richard’s classes. Finally, I took and passed the entrance exam for the Royal Conservatoire of Brussels. I am currently studying with Jeroen Van Herzeele.

Many French musicians studied at the Royal Conservatoire of Brussels. How do you explain this?

Yes, actually, we ́re getting a very good feedback in France. Brussels is a very culturally rich city. Besides, there’s also a question of mentality. Belgians are more ‘open’ in terms of culture than the French. Brussels is also a very cosmopolitan place, which attracts a lot of people and influences the music that’s played there.

Do you mean in learning methods ?

Indeed, but also in terms of aesthetics. Once again, I find the Belgian scene more open than the French scene… I’m going to make some enemies! (laughs) But that’s what I think.

What were your first musical experiences ? I find it a bit difficult to imagine the journey, or more precisely, the path that a young girl or a young musician takes to get to Coltrane. And why Coltrane in particular ?

Well, as often, my first musical experiences came from my family. My father listens almost exclusively to African-American music. Since I was very young, I have heard a lot of gospel, soul, funk… especially from the 1970s. I guess that must have had a big influence on my musical tastes. I also took dance lessons. In fact, I used to associate what my father listened to with body movements. I didn’t discover jazz until I was fourteen. Before that, I didn’t know what it was. And I can tell you that I didn’t like it at first ! In fact, it took me a year to begin to understand how it worked. Until then, I had no tools to do it. I felt a bit lost with my saxophone…

I discovered Coltrane with his album “Ballads”. Here again, I didn’t immediately connect with it. I really liked the sound of his saxophone, but I didn’t understand his vocabulary or phrasing. I didn’t have the intellectual understanding necessary to appreciate it. I think that’s the case for many young musicians. Coltrane’s music seems elusive when you’re a teenager.

I got back into jazz when I arrived in Brussels and met the people who became my friends and with whom we formed Ola Tunji. But this new contact with jazz came about in a different way, through a more spiritual journey. So yes, I eventually felt a deep attachment to jazz. I identified with it emotionally. From that moment on, I sought to better understand this music, to study it and to educate myself.

Does it mean that all the members of the Ola Tunji quartet are into Coltrane? Do they have other interests?

Yes, we are fans of Coltrane. But keep in mind that what is also unique about Coltrane is that his music paves the way for others. It is a mistake to believe that there is such a thing as Coltrane sectarianism. On the contrary, it is a whole! Everything is there, everything has its purpose …

There is openness, but also work to be done, isn’t there?

Absolutely, you can’t reach that level without a tremendous amount of work and discipline.

Could you remind us where the reference to “Ola Tunji” comes from ?

Well, actually, it’s the name of Coltrane’s last live recording. It’s named after the last club he played in. In fact, it’s a cultural centre in New York, which itself takes its name from the Nigerian percussionist Babatunde Olatunji.

I feel that the past year has been crucial for your career. Have you realised that you are now going to pursue a career as a musician?   

The desire to make a living from music has been with me since I was seventeen. I came to Brussels to become a professional musician, that’s for sure.
In fact, over the past year, I have mainly gained confidence in myself. I now dare to think that I am capable of achieving this. (smile)

Your band Ola Tunji has made a name for itself, particularly in Flanders, where you have been invited to participate in major festivals (Ghent and Bruges).

As a matter of fact, Ghent was a springboard and a very divisive moment for the band as well. In 2024 we released an EP, which we sent to Benny Claeysier, the boss of the W.E.R.F. label. He really appreciated it and it enabled us to get things organised, in particular to register for this springboard, which helped us to make ourselves known.

You received an award there, didn’t you ?

Yes, we received the audience award and the jury award, which helps us a lot and gives us the means to record at W.E.R.F. Our EP will be released in April on vinyl, then we will enter the studio to record an album that should be released in October. These awards have done us a world of good. And the feeling that we can touch people with our music is so powerful !
…
Tonight you will be playing in a duo with Egon Wolfson, Ola Tunji’s drummer (the interview was recorded in January in Liège, at the Cercle du Laveu). Does it mean we can expect  more in improvisation or free jazz?

I love free jazz. This music is also an integral part of Coltrane’s music. He is one of its innovators, if not one of its creators. The history of free jazz is immense and there is so much to discover and study.
Of course, its legacy is very important in terms of art, in terms of what this music has contributed to other musical genres.
Besides, there is also a political dimension that I am committed to. There is such a liberating force in free jazz,  an opposition to fascism. I am a woman and I come from the suburbs, from a working-class family. I feel very involved in the fight against oppression and in the struggle to safeguard our rights. I believe that I too have a role to play in this.

Can you tell us about your personal experience as a young woman working in the jazz world?

There is so much I wish to express, and I think it’s important. With the recognition I enjoy today, I can say that things are getting better. But I still get inappropriate comments at the end of a concert, for instance about my playing or my appearance. In any case, the kind of comments that no one would dare make to a man.

And comments about the way you dress, perhaps ?

Yes. Comments are flying thick and fast if I wear a skirt. So much so that at one point, I tended to dress more like a man. On stage, for example, I wear more loose-fitting clothes so that my figure isn’t visible and I also wear very little make-up.
And, at one time, I even neglected myself a little, in a way, to blend in with the other musicians. I wanted to be seen like the others, who were mostly male musicians.

The jazz world is also about jams… How do people view a young girl who turns up with her saxophone?

Well, I can tell you that I have had some very bad experiences, particularly in Paris. Starting out as a young woman is very difficult and cruel at times… In fact, you feel alone and you don’t identify with many people. Sometimes you even feel unsafe. Maybe the worst part of it all is the feeling of not belonging, which I experienced for so many years.

So you had to hang in there…

Yes. I also had to rebel against institutions, against teachers from another time and from other generations. This ends up costing us energy, which we expend more than men.

You’re telling me that things are getting a bit better now. We can see that other young female musicians are appearing on the Belgian jazz scene, such as Alejandra Borzik, Adèle Viret and others. Do you discuss this sensitive subject together ?

Yes, of course. We’re building up a real community, which is very useful. There is a great deal of solidarity among us and we support each other. I have high hopes for this generation and for our generation, ultimately.

What are your wishes for 2026 ?

Well, I would like to be at peace with what I do. I also wish to share pleasant moments with my friends and see my family. And above all, I want to continue to love music just as much as I do now. But I have no doubt about that! (smile)

Este artículo se publica simultáneamente en las siguientes revistas europeas, en el marco de “Milestones”, una operación para destacar a las jóvenes músicas de jazz y blues : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) y Donos Kulturalny (PL).

This article is co-published simultaneously in the following European magazines, as part of « Milestones » an operation to highlight young jazz and blues female musicians : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) and Donos Kulturalny (PL).

#Womentothefore #IWD2026

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09

March, 2026

By: Kateryna Ziabliuk

Photos: © Erik Mathias; Dovile Sermokas

Meloport/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | A Gentle Answer in Harsh Times

Disclamer: In this text, russia (as well as related terms like “russian invasion”, and others) is written in lowercase letters. This follows the September 2023 decision by Ukraine’s National Commission for State Language Standards, which ruled that such spelling in unofficial or non-formal texts does not violate Ukrainian language norms—reflecting the ongoing heroic struggle of the Ukrainian people against aggression, a public call by Deputy Prime Minister Iryna Vereshchuk, and endorsements from leading linguistic institutions of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine. Though this rule is not applicable in English, we keep the same lowercase convention in English as a deliberate symbolic gesture of respect and the broader context of Ukraine’s fight for sovereignty.

A Gentle Answer in Harsh Times

From her earliest childhood, Ukrainian vocalist and composer Kateryna Kravchenko burned with a fierce passion for jazz.  She navigated the comically intricate, at times absurd rungs of post-Soviet musical education—first in Balta, then in Odesa—before stepping into Germany, a land that proved no less stubborn and resistant to mastery. Learning by doing—that is what she calls her life’s guiding tactic, and it turns out to be the most effective strategy precisely in times of turbulence, when distant relocations intertwined with isolation, and isolation, in a single breath, transformed into the martial state that engulfed Ukraine.

Perhaps the truest description of her artistry and of her essence is that old biblical proverb: “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” Later she composed a suite inspired by Maria Prymachenko—the Ukrainian “storyteller” of colours—and founded the Kravchenko/Clees Duo together with Luxembourgish vibraphonist Arthur Clees. Together they weave sonic webs, delicate and translucent, from improvisation, from poetry, and from the voices of Vasyl Stus, Sarah Chauncey Woolsey, Hermann Hesse, Juan Ramón Jiménez, Robert Creeley, and many others. The themes that resound in these texts are raw and painful—solitude, exile, losses that nevertheless hold fragile crumbs of hope for rebirth — yet they are retold with such exceptional care, with such harmonious ambiguity, that one listens and feels: here no one wishes to wound with an extra word.

— Let’s start with the early days. What was important to you in your childhood?

— I was born in a small town where there was essentially nothing — only a music school. They taught academic vocals and classical piano there. No one had even heard of jazz.
Then a new teacher arrived. He had studied choral conducting, but lived in a dormitory with ‘pop singers,’ as they were called back then. So he picked up some jazz terminology from them. It was still Soviet jazz: Melodies of Jazz by Volodymyr Symonenko [Ukrainian jazz pianist and musicologist — ed.] — that is, a kind of ‘bible’ of the first jazz books. But it was he who opened up the world of jazz to me. YouTube had just appeared, and he showed me some recordings that simply blew me away. Before that, I only had radio and television — and suddenly a whole new world opened up. That’s how I first saw Ella Fitzgerald. I was 12 or 13. I wanted to sing only jazz, like Ella, and know all her solos. At that time, I didn’t understand anything about improvisation, I only knew: ‘I want to sing like Ella.’

Then I started taking lessons with a teacher and sang in an ensemble, a vocal quartet with three other girls. It was very interesting. And then I realised: that’s it, I want to be a jazz musician, learn to improvise, have my own band and perform on stage! That’s when the competitions began.

My first one was the Rostyslav Kobanchenko Memorial Competition at the Odesa Music College. I sang ‘Air Mail Special’ and ‘Mr. Paganini.’ I was 13 years old. After that, I was invited to perform with the Mykola Goloshchapov Big Band — my first performance with live musicians. And here, at the Odesa Philharmonic, I performed two songs, including Diana Schuur’s ‘Every Day I Have the Blues.’ It was my first experience of doing my own interpretation — because I didn’t like Diane Schuur’s version, because it wasn’t ‘like Ella’s’ (laughs).

— How did you analyse the songs back then? Did you study the melody, the lyrics, translate them?

— I just listened to them over and over again. Then I tried to repeat everything in great detail. But my English was poor at the time, so I first learned the song by ear. Then I opened the lyrics and found that half of them didn’t match. But I still trusted the recording more than the written text.
Because of this, my pronunciation was funny: once, a Canadian English teacher said that it was ‘not appropriate’ for me, a European girl, to sing like that, because there was African-American slang everywhere — it was as if I had suddenly started speaking in the Transcarpathian dialect instead of literary Ukrainian (laughs).

— So you decided to enroll in college. How did that happen?

— Yes. At that time, I already knew that I wanted to become a singer, a musician, and learn to improvise. There weren’t many options. The most realistic one was to enrol in the Odessa Music College, because I lived in the region and my mother wouldn’t let me go any further. So it was either Odesa or nowhere. I enrolled, and I remember those years like this: the best thing about the college was my collaboration with Oleksii Petukhov. Because what was happening in the pop vocal department was really tough. I don’t have many good memories of that. But working with Petukhov was different. He opened up new horizons for me, and I started playing the piano more. I had studied classical piano at school, but at college I began to take accompaniment more seriously and even write improvisations.

It seemed to be the only way to learn to improvise, because our improvisation lessons were conducted like: ‘Girls, listen to the music and do something.’ The teacher believed that you just had to ‘feel’ it. And we wrote improvisations by hand, memorised them, without even understanding how a phrase or harmony was formed.

— So, how did studying abroad work out?

— Viktoria Leleka helped me a lot with my orientation. I met her when she was already studying in Dresden, Germany.
Victoria was touring Ukraine with her band Leleka at the time, and I happened to catch their concert at the Peron 7 club in Odesa. After the show, we got talking, and she said, “If you’re interested, come visit us. There’s a great teacher, I’ll help you.” And she really did help — she told me where to submit my documents and how the entrance exams work.

For me, that was the deciding factor. She became a kind of guide. Because, unfortunately, other musicians who promised to help just disappeared. But Viktoria really did everything she promised.

So I started learning German. One of the main factors was that education in Germany is free, and I had only been there once.

My vocal teacher, Celine Rudolph, was the one who supported me.
She was the first to say, ‘Kateryna, you need to start your own band, write music, perform.’ And that surprised me, because after Odesa I was convinced that ‘you’re not ready yet,’ ten years of honing your skills and so on. But here it was the opposite: ‘Try it, do it.’

— And you started your own band?

— Yes. At first, I didn’t even know where to start. We didn’t have any experience in Ukraine in choosing musicians for a band. It was simple: if you play the piano, you play the piano.
But in Germany, for the first time, I felt that I could choose who I wanted to play with, who was interested in this kind of music. We prepared a few initial arrangements, and I even had one of my own compositions. And this band immediately won the conservatory’s ensemble competition. After three months of training!
It was a big sign for me: ‘Yes, I have to keep writing.’
At the same time, I joined the German National Jazz Orchestra — BundesJazzOrchester, or BuJazzO for short.

— Were you already thinking of your debut album, Stories, as a complete project?

— No, at first I didn’t understand what an album was at all. I was used to listening to music on YouTube in separate videos, you know, those hour-long videos with music and the same cover art.  So the idea of an album as something coherent came to me while I was working on it.

I realised that it’s not just about music — you have to think about the visual image, the concept, the structure, the order of the tracks.
At the time, I thought: just take a photo, release it, and that’s it. But it turned out that you also need promotion, communication, presentations. At the time, I still thought that if you’re talented, you’ll be discovered.

After the album was released, especially during COVID-19, I realised that it was all an illusion.I rethought a lot — who I am, what I do, why. Until then, everything had come naturally — competitions, successes, events. And then suddenly I had to create meaning myself — they didn’t teach that at the conservatory.

This crisis somehow smoothly transitioned into a period of full-scale invasion. My mother came to see my concert and stayed because the war had started. I didn’t immediately understand what was happening because everything that had happened before no longer mattered. I had to rethink myself, my identity, my language.

— That must have been difficult — especially since there are still quite a few russians living in Dresden?

— Terribly. There were quite a few people from russia in my circle — students, musicians.
There weren’t many Ukrainians there, and it was very easy to perpetuate the myth that ‘we are all the same, and the Germans see us as one.’ We had a common social circle: it seemed that there were no problems, that art was outside of politics. But after 24th of February, everything fell into place.

One of my close friends, a very talented singer, simply returned to russia and started performing concerts during the war.

That’s when I first clearly realised who I was. I began to think about my culture, about Ukrainian music. And it turned out that I knew very little about it. I always liked the Ukrainian language, I loved Ukrainian literature, but in educational institutions it was treated formally — you had to sing one song in Ukrainian at the state exam, and that was it I learned more about Ukrainian music from Viktoria Leleka. After the Maidan, it became obvious to her that Ukrainian culture is complete and powerful in itself. I didn’t really understand that at the time, I was a teenager. Although I couldn’t write lyrics in Russian — they didn’t sound right. However, the first song I ever wrote, ‘Tam, de ty’ (‘Where You Are’), was written in Ukrainian.

— You approached the person of Maria Prymachenko in one of your projects, it is the suite. How did it come about?

It all started in Sweden. It was early 2023, and I had the opportunity to create my project for the New Sound Made festival in Stockholm, a composition for a large ensemble. Then I learned that the Maria Prymachenko Museum had been destroyed at the beginning of the Russian invasion. I discovered that her fellow citizens had saved her works, hiding them in their homes under bombardment, at the risk of their lives. There is such power in that — humanity, dignity, when the world around you is falling apart, but you choose to save art. So I decided to dedicate the suite to Maria Prymachenko, to her paintings and to this story.

We also performed this programme in Ukraine, at the Odessa Philharmonic, in the autumn of 2023. During the first piece, an air raid siren sounded. We went down to the basement of the philharmonic, where there was an old grand piano. The musicians began to improvise and continued the concert there, in the shelter. It was the most powerful experience of my life. It was a true act of resistance, showing that no matter how difficult things get, life goes on.

It wasn’t just about Maria Prymachenko, but about all of us. It was about why we preserve culture even when the world is falling apart. It was about showing how much culture is part of our identity. For me, it was also a moment of reconciliation with myself: after searching for many years to find out who I was in this world, this suite became the answer — I am a Ukrainian musician, and this is my story.

One of your most active projects is your duo with Arthur Clees. How did it all start?

Initially, we planned a duo concert and only had a few weeks to prepare the programme. Then we constantly refined, modified and enriched it. The duo is very organic: a combination of vibraphone and voice, concise but leaving plenty of room for improvisation. Sometimes we call on other musicians or visual artists. Our duo is already a successful project, but it’s very flexible. We can do absolutely anything we want with it.

And, in fact, the new album Faces was also born out of this duo, wasn’t it?

We recorded it under the direction of Wanja Slavin, a saxophonist and producer from Berlin. Thanks to Wanja, our sound has become different, more complex, more voluminous. We used unexpected instruments, such as a church organ, whose sound added depth. It’s a very personal album. The songs are based on Ukrainian, German, American and Spanish poems. Vanya helped us find the balance between jazz, electronic music and atmospheric intimacy that we were looking for. It will be released on 10 April 2026.

Este artículo se publica simultáneamente en las siguientes revistas europeas, en el marco de “Milestones”, una operación para destacar a las jóvenes músicas de jazz y blues : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) y Donos Kulturalny (PL).

This article is co-published simultaneously in the following European magazines, as part of « Milestones » an operation to highlight young jazz and blues female musicians : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) and Donos Kulturalny (PL).

#Womentothefore #IWD2026

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09

March, 2026

By: Sebastian Scotney

Photos: © Izzy Tippins; Madeleine Young; Casey Vock

UK Jazz News/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | Loads of Humor

Loads of Humor

We are going to hear a lot more of the astonishingly wide-ranging and in-demand guitarist Tara Cunningham. In the past eighteen months her name has been increasingly visible on the UK jazz scene, in bands led by trumpeter Laura Jurd, saxophonist Tom Challenger, pianist Liam Noble, drummer Seb Rochford – and others. This is the first published profile of a London-born, Bath-raised musician with a distinctive sound, a strong musical presence, and a winningly positive spirit.

I spoke to Tara Cunningham on her only free morning between two tours. She’d just finished eleven dates on US Eastern seabord with the avant rock band Modern Nature, in which she shares lead and rhythm guitar and lead vocals with the band’s central figure Jack Cooper. She was about to depart later that day with Laura Jurd’s ‘Rites and Revelations’ band for dates in Holland. When I ask about that pressure, the quick turnaround, and how completely different these two ventures must be in every way…the first thing I noticed was that there was no sign of weariness at all, just an inspiring positivity: “I love it all; it feels like its all part of the same thing.”
The guitarist was born in Haggerston in East London in 1999, but her family moved away from the capital when she was two. “I grew up in Bath. I started playing the guitar at eight. I grew up on my dad’s record collection which was 70s psych rock and art rock – Pink Floyd…David Bowie. And I really loved Talking Heads.”

An early motivator was active encouragement which she received from the teachers at her secondary school in Bath. One of them was in charge of the school big band, and also ran a jazz group which played at functions in the area round Bath. When Tara Cunningham was invited to play in the function band at just thirteen years old, That felt important: “Gigging and the prospect of being paid money at that age was definitely formative,” she remembers. She also looks back and is grateful for the guidance of early teachers – “that was an important thing – people showing me which way to go.”

One of these was freelance/ session drummer Mark Whitlam – who ran a pop band at the school. He advised her that studying jazz would leave her more broadly equipped as a musician than studying pop. She started attending the Saturday school in the Junior Department of the Royal Academy of Music. “That was an introduction into the London jazz world. It was an eye-opener, finding people of my age doing a similar thing.” Contemporaries in her cohort included musicians who have gone on to make serious waves, such as trumpeters Ife Ogunjobi of Ezra Collective, and Alex Ridout.

Exposure to jazz education at Junior RAM and then at Trinity Laban reinforced an important direction, what Cunningham calls her “rebellion against the archetypal jazz guitar,” through the realisation that “other instruments can sound far more interesting and expressive.” For her, what matters is giving particular character to individual notes and sounds, rather than seeking smoothness or homogeneity. “I always related more to textural and gestural playing, rather than the intricate language of a line.” And her recent solo album, ‘Almost -Not Exactly’ (Nonclassical), reinforces that, involving different kinds of preparation of the strings, building in taps on the guitar body and various microtones. “I’m really attracted to “wonk” in the music,” she smirks.

That kind of playing particularly appeals to pianist/ bandleader Liam Noble, whose quartet with Cunningham, drummer Will Glaser and drummer Tom Herbert explores it in a way reminiscent of Ornette Coleman’s Prime Time, but with electronic effects. Tara Cunningham’s presence in that band is particularly conducive to good things happening. “She takes it seriously….but there’s loads of humour in what she does” says Liam Noble. The guitarist concurs: “A sense of humour is such a big part of my personality and who I am.”

I was curious if there might be exceptions to her aversion to jazz guitar, artists towards whom she does having a strong leaning? Cunningham is a devotee of Jim Hall and mentions ‘Conversations’, the duo album with Joey Baron, and his last studio album, recorded in 2010. “I find duo so exciting generally, because of how exposed and exploratory it tends to be – for me this album exemplifies everything I love about Jim Hall’s playing.”

She works a lot in a duo context with a close colleague who was in her cohort at Trinity, bassist Caius Williams, and the impetus they both bring to the free improv scene sounds particularly exciting, even refreshing: “I like the side of free improv where you can make sounds that are funny, even quite mad!” Tara also cites the example of having been paired with singer Eska for a duo improvisation at the Moment’s Notice gig in Peckham, and remembers with great fondness a moment when the singer responded to a baby’s crying by working with the sound and embodying it into the performance. “That was such a powerful way of connecting with an audience in a humorous way, I loved that.”

Fundamental to Tara Cunningham’s way of working is a relish for collaboration with artists who defy any rulebook. As an example, she remembers the first time she worked with Steve Noble: “That was a brain expander – he really didn’t care about any rules that you would associate with playing free jazz. He introduced pulse – and even melody – it was inspiring! ”

In fact, she sees her most recently released ‘solo’ album, ‘Almost – Not Exactly’ (Nonclassical) as more of a collaborative than a solo venture, this time with a good friend, visual artist Jemima Seymour. Of her own music on the album she says ““I’ve always liked beat-driven music, and the use of ‘found sound’ within it,” but what completes it is the visual, with the beat rhythms as a soundtrack for a pair of dancers in Athens.

Tom Challenger says: “She’s a great collaborator. The way she plays is unique, but with strong personality.” It is an idea which Tara Cunningham, characteristically, likes to echo: “I love collaboration in any form. The meeting of two minds in the live context is always very special.”

Este artículo se publica simultáneamente en las siguientes revistas europeas, en el marco de “Milestones”, una operación para destacar a las jóvenes músicas de jazz y blues : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) y Donos Kulturalny (PL).

This article is co-published simultaneously in the following European magazines, as part of « Milestones » an operation to highlight young jazz and blues female musicians : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) and Donos Kulturalny (PL).

#Womentothefore #IWD2026

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08

March, 2026

By: © Bernard Lefèvre
Photos: © Cees van de Ven

Jazz’Halo/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | Melancholic, Characterful and Deep Dark Sound

Berlinde Demian’s concert agenda 2026:

20 March: trio with Adilia Yip and Hester Bolle, Le Senghor, Etterbeek
4 April: solo serpent: brdcst, AB Brussels
28 April: FES album release, HaConcerts Ghent
9 May: trio with Patricia Vanneste and Matthijs Bertel, Stormloop, Herentals
13 June: solo serpent, Het Onument, Kortrijk

‘My “Serpent” has melancholic, characterful and deep dark sound’

Berlinde Deman is the only female jazz tuba player in Belgium. And what makes her more unique: she is the only serpent player there. You may know her as the tuba player from the Flat Earth Society Orchestra. Her fascination with the serpent, an S-shaped wind instrument developed in Auxerre around 1590, started fifteen years ago. Six years ago, she began an intensive and personal study of this rare and capricious instrument through self-study tuition. At the end of last year, her first solo serpent album, “Plank 9”, was released on the New York label Relative Pitch Records.

I grew up in a musical family. My grandmother played jazz piano, my mother double bass in the Sint-Kwintens-Lennik brass band. One day, my mother bought a bruised rusty and adorable tuba in an antique shop. I was eight and immediately fascinated by that impressive instrument. I was determined to play it. So off to music school I went. In Gooik, people were a little surprised when I, a young girl, chose such a heavy instrument, almost as big as myself.

I insisted: it was the tuba or nothing. The director eventually made a support so I could hold it. By the time I was twelve, I was already playing quite well. At sixteen, I was already playing with Bart Maris in the street theatre Excelsior. During my conservatory years, I worked on a production with Dimitri Leue in a big band conducted by Benjamin Boutreur. Not long after, Peter Vermeersch from Flat Earth Society called, and that’s how I got into jazz. I already wanted to study jazz, but there was no jazz tuba teacher at the conservatory. The only course teaching jazz was the double bass. But they referred me to  the trumpet class, which neither did not match. In order to continue playing the tuba at a high level, I eventually obtained my master’s degree in classical music.

Who did you listen to and who taught you what?

Initially, I listened to Howard Johnson and Michel Godard; there were few jazz tuba players to look up to at the time. Meanwhile, I listened to a wide range of music. I have always been a musical omnivore: Tom Waits, Anouar Brahem, Yusef Lateef, Lhasa, Jeff Buckley, Moloko, Jill Scott, and later more drone/experimental: Mazen Kerbaj, Etienne Nillesen, Susana Santos Silva, Maria Bertel, Martin Taxt,…

After my master’s degree in classical music, I took improvisation lessons in Liège with Michel Massot and Garrett List. For the rest, I discovered and learned a lot myself, while playing, thanks to the versatility of the tuba, from klezmer, Balkan, classical and contemporary work to theatre and jazz.

I have been trying to break away from classical music for almost twenty years now. Strictly playing from the sheet music feels oppressive to me. Playing with Flat Earth Society was a turning point in that respect: working with the moment, the humour, the risk. In the classical world, everything is often very serious. Over the years, I improved my ability to let go and improvise, especially with the serpent, which is an unpredictable instrument in itself.

How did you discover the serpent?

About fifteen years ago, while listening to oud player Rabih Abou-Khalil, I heard Michel Godard playing the serpent for the first time. I could not believe my ears: that melancholy, that dusty, mysterious sound.

I was immediately enchanted and wanted to learn to play the serpent too. But it turned out not to be that easy. No one in my circle played the serpent, and finding one was not so easy. I also read online that the instrument was unplayable, inherently out of tune. Godard’s serpent turned out to have been built by the Swiss Stephan Berger. In England, I did find an affordable alternative made of carbon fibre, but I didn’t want to take that risk, as the material of an instrument determines its sound.

A few years later, I heard about Pierre Ribo, a new serpent maker, and what’s more, he was based in Brussels. That’s how I finally found my instrument.

How did you learn to play the serpent and how would you describe your sound?

Because there was no jazz training for tuba, I followed a classical training. That’s where my search began.

With the serpent, that search became even more radical: there was no training and hardly any references. In Belgium, Christophe Morisset and I are the only professional serpent players.

In France, Michel Godard and Patrick Wibart are important references. Michel’s tone is dusty and extremely agile. Patrick’s tone in early music is very concrete and clear. My tone is somewhere in between. My serpent has a melancholic, characterful and deep sound. The serpent by its very nature has a warm sound.

People sometimes associate the sound with a womb or deep roots. Melancholy is also a trap; it is easy to evoke that feeling with the serpent. Three notes and everyone is touched. The challenge for me is to make the sound dangerous. Therefore I use effect pedals. The serpent originally was played in the church where its sound fully flourish. In halls where those acoustics are lacking, I have to use my imagination by employing effect pedals and sounds such as extended techniques and quarter tones. In this way, I want to make the serpent sound like a living and unstable instrument.

Where do you get your inspiration?

First and foremost from my daughter Lonne, to whom I also owe the title Plank 9. Two years ago, she practised her handstand every day. Each time, she wanted to move one plank further away from the cupboard she was leaning against. Every day I heard: ‘Plank 9, Mummy!’ That was her goal by the end of the summer. At the time, I was making plans for a solo album and realised that this was my own Plank 9. She still can hardly believe that I named the album after that.

Plank 9 also features the song Hum of Bees. It was written in Michel Mast’s garden, where bees settle in his pergola for a week every year. I discovered that the dusty serpent sound makes it very easy to imitate the buzzing of bees, dreamy but also threatening at the same time.

I find inspiration everywhere. I read a lot. One book that stuck with me is “Six Months in the Siberian Woods” by Sylvain Tesson. His voluntary seclusion in a log cabin touched me. You can hear that silence and concentration in my music. Not as a direct reference to one piece, but as a whole set of impressions.

I also feel a lot of poetry in the sounds…

I’m glad you noticed that. I love to write and am always working with language. For me, poetry is nothing more than a world captured in a single sentence. That is strongly connected to my music. I use few notes. I want to say everything with four or five notes.

You transcend all musical boundaries…

The beginning of my serpent story is my duo hum. with Mirko Banovic. He wanted to manipulate my serpent with electronics. I eventually started using effect pedals myself. I love the dirty and unpredictable nature of it.

I continued in the same vein with sound artist Rutger Zuydervelt, which resulted in the albums Luchtwezen and Stuutjes.

Graindelavoix, which specialises in early music, also came my way. Voice and serpent: tonal colours that are made for each other.

From the scene of improvised music, Dutch saxophonist and clarinettist Ab Baars crossed my path. Together with Joost Buis, we recorded the album “Cecil’s Dance” in 2024.

Other projects I played on: “It’s Gone” by Jef Neve, “Secular Psalms” by Dave Douglas, and collaborations with Spinvis, B.O.X/Dez Mona, MikMâäk and La Floresta.

What does your musical future sound like?

I am fascinated by silence. By what happens just before and just after a sound. I want to create a project with my own lyrics and music that is based on silence.

At the same time, I am listening more and more to sounds that are normally perceived as disturbing. Renovation noises. Cars in the street. The coughs of my chain-smoking neighbour. I want to use those sounds as inspiration for a more rhythmic repertoire.

I was a performer in many projects. Now I want to create with the serpent itself. Let my ideas grow into music. Build something of my own that can scour and touch deeply.

Este artículo se publica simultáneamente en las siguientes revistas europeas, en el marco de “Milestones”, una operación para destacar a las jóvenes músicas de jazz y blues : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) y Donos Kulturalny (PL).

This article is co-published simultaneously in the following European magazines, as part of « Milestones » an operation to highlight young jazz and blues female musicians : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) and Donos Kulturalny (PL).

#Womentothefore #IWD2026

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March, 2026

Text: Jacek Brun
Photos: Vasilis Bonis; Damian Irik

Jazz-Fun/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | When Music Breathes

Origins, Memory and the Quiet Power of Aroma

Sometimes a single sound is enough to evoke an entire landscape. A resonance that does not end, but continues to travel – like a scent that lingers in the air long after the person who carried it has disappeared. The music of Eleanna Pitsikaki moves precisely within this in-between space: between closeness and distance, memory and presence, origin and freedom.

With her debut album Aroma, the Greek musician, now based in Germany, presents a work that resists any quick categorization. Jazz, Mediterranean sound traditions, transcultural improvisation – all of this is present, yet never as a constructed concept. Rather, this music feels like something that has grown naturally. Or, as Pitsikaki herself says:
“The music on Aroma was not something I planned – it emerged completely naturally, like the scent of the sea carried by the wind.”

Crete as Origin – and as an Inner Landscape

Eleanna Pitsikaki grew up on Crete, an island where music is not merely a cultural practice, but part of everyday life. Landscape, myth, ritual and sound are inseparably intertwined. “Where sun and sea give birth to legends,” she found early access to musical traditions deeply connected to place and community.

What is remarkable is that her central instrument – the qanun – does not belong to the typical instruments of Cretan folk music. And yet it became her true voice. Early on, she began connecting Byzantine sound worlds with the Ottoman maqam system, long before jazz entered her artistic horizon. Improvisation was, from the very beginning, something natural.

Later, as she immersed herself more deeply in jazz, she discovered not a rupture, but an expansion. Jazz became a space of freedom, not of departure. “Where jazz whispers of freedom, where Mediterranean melodies speak of salt, sun and longing,” her musical coordinates began to take shape.

The Qanun – An Instrument Between Centuries

In contemporary jazz, the qanun remains a rare presence. For Pitsikaki, however, it is not an exotic foreign body, but an instrument with a striking affinity to the improvisational culture of jazz.
“The qanun has always been a bridge between worlds for me – fragile, shimmering, and boundless,” she says of her relationship with the instrument.

Its history stretches far back – from ancient theories of proportion to Byzantine and Ottoman musical cultures. For Pitsikaki, this multiplicity is essential. “It belongs to many countries and cultures. In our traditional music there is a lot of improvisation – like in jazz. Both are similar and yet very different.”
Within this tension, she finds her artistic freedom.

On Aroma, the qanun is not used as a folkloric symbol, but fully integrated into a contemporary sonic language. It improvises, responds, breathes – learning to speak in new ways.

Aroma – Music as Scent, Memory and Movement

The album title is carefully chosen. Aroma represents something invisible, fleeting, yet capable of leaving a profound impact. “I wanted to show that identity is not a fixed place, but a scent – fleeting, delicate and alive,” Pitsikaki explains. This idea runs throughout the entire album.

The compositions unfold slowly, layer by layer. Nothing pushes forward, nothing explains itself prematurely. Pauses are not empty spaces, but carriers of meaning. “For me, music must breathe like a living being – with silence, with pulse, with space to dream.”

This attitude shapes both the arrangements and the improvisations. It is not about virtuosity for its own sake, but about trust – in the moment, in the fellow musicians, and in the unspoken.

In jazz-fun’s review, the music was described as “organically flowing, free of artificiality – it breathes.” This breathing is not an effect, but a philosophy.

Places, Memory and Storytelling Without Words

Several pieces on Aroma are closely connected to specific places. Particularly striking is “Faraggi,” inspired by the gorges of Crete. Created during walks in 2020, the piece translates the quiet grandeur of these landscapes into sound. Echo-like motifs, wide arcs, a calm yet powerful pulse – music as inner topography.

“Place and memory are an essential part of me – they are part of my Aroma,” Pitsikaki explains. Her music resembles a backpack filled with experiences: Greece, Germany, and all the paths in between. “My music is like a breeze that travels from the mountains of Crete to the banks of the Main.”

Farewell is also a central theme. In “Apocheretismos,” she interprets a traditional Cretan song of departure, connected to the voice of the late Kostas Mountakis. It is a piece about leaving, about letting go – and about carrying memory forward.

An Ensemble as Conversation

The album’s instrumentation is as unusual as it is coherent: qanun, kaval, keyboards, electric bass and drums. No hierarchy, no traditional lead instrument. Instead, an equal conversation.

“I wanted a sound that could move freely – grounded and open at the same time,” Pitsikaki says. The kaval brings breath and a connection to the folk traditions of Southeastern Europe, bass and keyboards create harmonic depth, while the drums connect pulse and presence. Every voice has space.

“This ensemble creates space for listening, reacting and spontaneous storytelling.” That is precisely its strength: it does not accompany – it narrates collectively.

Between Stage, Research and Transcultural Dialogue

Alongside her musical work, Eleanna Pitsikaki is also active in academic and cultural fields. She teaches, conducts research, is pursuing her doctorate at the Hochschule für Musik Mainz, and participates in transcultural networks. This work is not separate from her art, but part of its foundation.

“Research opens new perspectives, stories and methods that I transform creatively.” Thinking about music deepens the act of playing – without controlling it. Exchange, dialogue and openness are lived not only on stage, but beyond it.

A Quiet but Lasting Voice

With her album Aroma, released by Timezone Records and supported and advised by Marita Goga – Music Arts Conception, Eleanna Pitsikaki presents herself as one of the most remarkable emerging voices in the European jazz landscape.

Her music is not loud, not demonstrative. It resonates in a lasting way – like a scent that remains. Or, as she herself expresses it, she hopes listeners will think after hearing it for the first time:
“That was so beautiful… we have to see her live.”

A wish that sounds less like marketing and more like an invitation. An invitation to listen, to remember – and to breathe.

Este artículo se publica simultáneamente en las siguientes revistas europeas, en el marco de “Milestones”, una operación para destacar a las jóvenes músicas de jazz y blues : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) y Donos Kulturalny (PL).

This article is co-published simultaneously in the following European magazines, as part of « Milestones » an operation to highlight young jazz and blues female musicians : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) and Donos Kulturalny (PL).

#Womentothefore #IWD2026