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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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07

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

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06

March, 2026

Text: Krzysztof Komorek
Photos: Donos Kulturalny

Donos Kulturalny/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | “I like starting things over”

Aleksandra Kryńska grew up in the world of classical music, and her career in that field can be considered very successful. She graduated from the Academy of Music in Krakow. She collaborated with esteemed and prestigious classical music ensembles, including the Sinfonietta Cracovia and Amsterdam’s Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. As Orchestra member she performed with luminaries of the contemporary classical scene—Albrecht Mayer, Krzysztof Penderecki, the Labèque sisters, Rainer Honeck, and Gábor Boldoczki. She participated in the “50 for the Future” program initiated by the Kronos Quartet.

When did your interest in pursuing music professionally appear?

I decided to go to the Academy of Music in my second year of high school. I studied in Professor Wiesław Kwaśny’s class. Professor Kwaśny is part of the “old guard” of Polish violin playing; he was demanding, but as it later turned out, also very understanding and supportive.

Yet, unexpectedly, you suddenly found yourself in the world of jazz.

I like starting things over. I have a feeling that then, everything is still possible. I think it’s both a curse and a blessing. That’s how it was in 2017 when I went to the Festival & Masterclass course-competition in Piła. I was almost exclusively involved in classical music, practiced a lot back then, and went to improvisation workshops to “break out.” The lecturer was Adam Bałdych. Having nothing to do with jazz, I received the “Jazz Personality” award then.

Did improvised music immediately become your new fascination then?

At first, I wasn’t that into improvisation.  In 2018—a year after the competition—when I wasn’t accepted into the master’s program for classical violin in Dusseldorf, I decided to try to get into the Jazz Department at the University of Music in Warsaw. I was 23. I succeeded. The beginnings were exciting but also stressful; I felt pressure to prove something. It annoyed me that I was at such a low level; I wanted rapid progress. I realized that the violin isn’t particularly suited as a “sideman” instrument, and you have to figure out something of your own, so I just started writing pieces. It was a path through torture: I had no workshop skills, writing a few bars on the computer took me a lot of time, and there were huge theoretical gaps. I did and tried to learn everything at once.

Meeting with figures deeply rooted and recognized in the jazz world surely helped.

At the university, I had great lecturers; besides my main tutor Mateusz Smoczyński, there was Maciej Obara. His classes were absolutely mind-opening. I created my first band, the KRVNSKA QUARTET, with Piotr Andrzejewski, Maciej Baraniak, and Igor Falecki. We played my compositions. The guys were the best in the world and were very understanding of my scores, which aspired to be professional. At that time, I still had one foot in the classical world, but I felt that someday I would have to decide on a more decisive separation of my worlds.

What became the turning point and helped in making the decision?

I had a crisis; I didn’t take up jazz master’s studies, I wanted to quit. And contrary to my plans, I qualified for the International Jazz Platform [prestigious workshops for musicians in Lodz focused on improvised music], which I completely didn’t expect. During those workshops, a lot of things turned upside down; I returned to playing and met people made from the same clay, which made me feel less alone. I went to my first jam session at SPATiF [renowned, Warsaw based club for improvised music and jazz]. Karolina Szewc – head of SPATiF – was there; we immediately hit it off. I felt like I was in a second home there; later she considered me for various concert configurations.

Concerts at SPATiF became an opportunity for artistic meetings and starting regular collaborations.

Yes. Thanks to them, I played with, among others, Raphael Rogiński, and I appeared on the “Music For Peace” recording session, where I met trumpeter Piotr Damasiewicz. We created a duo, mostly improvising; we played together for two years and did a tour in Japan as part of Jazz Po Polsku programme [A concert project showcasing Polish jazz internationally. Its name can be translated as „Jazz – The Polish Way”]. It was an important collaboration; I learned a lot.

In 2024, you reached the finals of the prestigious Seifert Competition.

My career wasn’t heading towards a solo path. I didn’t have competition successes; I knew I wasn’t really suited for that. I don’t have the spine of a racehorse . Competition in artistic fields seems like an absurdity to me. But we live in times where quantifiability makes it easier to slot us into a box. It’s a pity I’m starting to observe this more and more often around me. I had no expectations and didn’t want any. After a few years of learning and improvising, I simply wanted to check what stage I was at on this new path. Later I also found out that, among others, Dominik Wania on piano would be playing with us. It was my dream to play with him someday, so I was overjoyed. I managed to reach the finals, and I consider that my success. A lot of good things happened. Did it help me in any way? I met great people and musicians, and the Seifert Foundation took my album under its patronage. I think thanks to the competition I somewhat marked my presence in the music world a bit more, but that might also be a bit of an overstatement.

Year 2025 could be called breakthrough.

Definitely. First and foremost, my album, recorded a year earlier, was released. When the moment came that I felt it was time to gather myself, record, and release original material, I decided to create a new formation. I invited the aforementioned Piotr Damasiewicz, Szymon Mika, Michał Aftyka, Bartosz Szablowski. We met for the first time the day before recording the album, then three days in the studio; we recorded the material. I’m also happy with the concerts I played then—including one with Paal Nilssen-Love’s Large Unit.

A follow-up to participating in the International Jazz Platform is the project ÄETHER—three of the female artists in it were participants of the Platform.

I was invited to create the Polish-French ensemble ÄETHER with Amalia Umeda, Maelle Debsbrosses, and Adele Viret. Our quartet performed for the first time during the Jazzdor Strasbourg Berlin Festival. Then we played in Łódź at Summer Jazz Academy Festival and in Strasbourg. We have plans for more concerts. Each of us brought a piece or pieces. We worked on the material in Berlin for three days. It was a demanding experience. In the end, we managed to find a common language, and I think above all, we created music—and that doesn’t always happen.

In ÄETHER, alongside improvisation, one can find influences of contemporary classical music. So you haven’t completely broken with your former artistic worlds.

Each of us has larger or smaller classical roots. We play acoustically. So I think it was unavoidable.

So a lot is happening, but you are still drawn to changes.

Speaking of new beginnings, I plan to present myself in yet another guise; I’m working on new material, learning from musician friends, and developing further. We’ll see what happens, but I don’t know if I need to know.

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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05

March, 2026

Text: Matthieu Jouan
Photos: Citizen Jazz

Citizen Jazz/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | A Serious Prankster

Portrait of a young trumpeter and violinist in full artistic bloom

Born in Vendée in a family where music and instruments have always been important, Lucille Moussalli first turned to the violin. An instruction at the music school between the ages of 6 and 14, complemented by a trumpet class starting at the age of 9. Then she entered high school in Nantes in the theater, music, and dance section, completed her studies, and joined the Conservatory in Paris in 2023.

She has always been surrounded by music: “My maternal grandfather played (and still plays) an important role in my musical education, he would play many musical instruments for me when I was just a few months old, and he was the one who taught me the basic basics of the violin”.

You got your start in Nantes, what do you think of this jazz scene?

Each city is an ecosystem defined by the individuals that compose it. Since my arrival in Paris, I feel fulfilled. I am fortunate to have met the people I play with today, and I appreciate the privilege of living in a large city bustling with so many cultural activities. Nantes is special. I feel good when I go back there, it’s where I had my first jams and it’s always nice to reconnect with the people I played standards with. You need to find out about the artists and venues in Nantes and go see them.

You need to come and support them because the Pays de la Loire region has suffered drastic budget cuts (73% less for culture, 74% less for sports, and 90% less for gender equality). It is the result of a completely irresponsible decision by the regional president Christelle Morançais for the 2025 budget. And the Pays de la Loire will face an additional 15 million euros in budget cuts for 2026.

You are part of the Mme Farceuse collective (Ms. Prankster), can you explain how and why this collective was formed? What are its current projects?

This collective was created in June 2022 when I was still in Nantes, with my friends Louise Chavanon and Eliot Broissand. We perform in various formations (from trio to quintet), which gives us a certain freedom in writing.

Right now, we’re taking our time; we’re not all based in the same cities, so it’s quite complicated to organize concerts/rehearsals.

We have done a few concerts and we plan to record an album and try out for showcases to be able to play as much as possible!

How would you describe the Vogelfrei quartet? What is your role in it?

Vogelfrei is a quartet with Loris Grillo, Anthony Jouravsky, and Antonio Barcelona.

“Vogelfrei” is the equivalent of “outlaw” in French: a person who breaks the laws, lives outside the laws, I think it describes our music well.

The group is led by Loris, but we all participate in the artistic direction. We will soon be recording an album with this group as well.

Is the duo Preset the most improvised of all your projects? What is its purpose?

Yes, it is the most improvised of all my projects, but it is not entirely so. With Antonio Barcelona, we work on textures, extended techniques, and different densities outside of improvisation, and then we improvise with these sound tools. Currently, we are exploring how to incorporate electronics into our performances to give them a new dimension and are increasingly leaning toward a show organized in multiple parts. Our focus is on analyzing the different aspects of the duo, how two entities communicate, can confront each other, intertwine, and elude each other…

You recently performed with Ailefroide and Ivresse, along with Fanny Ménégoz, in a wind trio with drums. This isn’t your only group without a harmonic instrument, is it an esthetic choice for you?

It was a very beautiful moment! I had never played an entire program in this formation, and I felt very comfortable; everyone was exactly where they needed to be. And I was very grateful to play Fanny’s compositions!

Indeed, this is not the only project without a harmonic instrument that I play in.

I love the sound of these formations; there is something deep and dry that attracts me.

On the other hand, I have discovered a certain fondness for the counterpoint created by the voices of monodic instruments (between them and with the drums), and moreover, the absence of instruments that mark the harmony allows our ear to be less influenced when improvising in a tonal or modal context. We are therefore freer!

Do you still play the violin on stage, and if so, what are the differences in playing, improvisation, and expression between these two instruments?

Yes, more specifically, I started playing the violin on stage again; I had stopped for a few years. Apart from the different timbres when playing the trumpet and violin conventionally, I don’t make any distinctions between the two instruments in my improvisation style; I think in the same way. On the other hand, working with sounds using extended techniques allows me to create a bridge between the sounds I produce.

In general, the younger generations of musicians who graduate from the conservatory form bands. What is your band?

My band is called Mouvances (and it gives its name to the first album). I asked people I admire a lot to play with me: Vladimir Sekula on piano, Tom Boizot on double bass, and Antonio Barcelona on drums. Sometimes we invite Lou Ferrand, a singer who, in my opinion, has a very deep and touching understanding of music.

The #IWD project is a European initiative to give visibility to female musicians. We must continue to insist. What is your position as a female musician on the subject?

I am in favor of this kind of initiative, as long as it doesn’t divert attention from the organization that highlights the musician. Because sometimes these initiatives end up being pure pinkwashing, and that’s a bad thing.
We must continue to insist on including women and gender minorities, because it is only thru radical actions that we achieve results: better visibility, more women and gender minorities in orchestras/groups, etc…

The new generation seems much more sensitive to issues of gender, equality, and representation. Are you still confronted with sexist, discriminatory, or simply inappropriate attitudes?

Yes, the new generation is more sensitive to these issues. And obviously, like everyone, I am confronted with sexist attitudes. Certainly, progress has been made, but there is still a hostile climate for women. The world of jazz is not a bubble excluded from our sexist and patriarchal society, and there is still a lot of fundamental work to be done to change that.

Where can we hear you (album, website, concerts)?

The first album by Mouvances has been released on all platforms under the label l’Autre Records. I sometimes post concert recordings on my Soundcloud.
Regarding my upcoming dates, I post them on my Instagram account, and I think I’ll create a website soon to gather everything.

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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04

March, 2026

Text: Pedro Andrade
Photos: Alesander Peña

Curated by In&OutJazz Magazine
Director: Bega Villalobos

Sara Lilu: Voice, Intuition and the Future of European Jazz
In and Out Jazz Magazine/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | A new voice in European jazz

Voice, Intuition and the Future of European Jazz

At a historical moment in which jazz expands beyond the limits of its own semantics, Sara Lilu emerges as a voice that does not seek closed answers, but rather honest questions. Singer, composer, arranger, and vocal explorer, her work inhabits a fertile territory where intuition coexists with knowledge, and where song opens itself to improvisation as a form of living thought.

Her debut solo album, do we belong in confusion?, is not presented as a statement of certainties, but as a sensitive map of a life process: a collection of sounds, doubts, and discoveries born between late adolescence and early adulthood. Within it, the studio becomes an instrument, the voice a laboratory, and humor a philosophical tool for inhabiting uncertainty.

Far from labels, her music enters into dialogue with the legacy of jazz, contemporary song, and the hybrid aesthetics of the present, drawing nourishment from tradition as much as from an attentive listening to today’s world. For Sara Lilu, composing means observing how an idea takes shape on its own; improvising, a way of refining listening; and creating, a collective act sustained by trust and exchange.

In this interview, the artist reflects on confusion as a space of freedom, intuition as a form of knowledge, and the urgent need to protect the human in a time accelerated by technology. Her voice does not demand the spotlight, it offers itself as a meeting place. Perhaps that is where its strength lies.

In&Out Jazz Magazine: You have just released do we belong in confusion?, your first solo album. What does this record represent in your personal and artistic journey?

Sara Lilu: It’s basically a picture of the sounds I had in me during a period of time, more specifically during my late teens and early twenties. I made a compilation of the songs I liked the most from my original repertoire, arranged them, gave them names and materialized them in this album. I think experimenting with sound is one of my main drives in life, so I took the studio for an instrument and learned a lot during the process. This album also gave me an idea of the amount of work there really is behind a music production, and it’s helped me to form an idea of what kind of artist that I want to be.

The title poses an open, almost existential question. Where does it come from, and why did you feel the need to express it musically?

All my life I’ve felt this need for answers. Not just rational responses to the world that surrounds me, but also more spiritual ones. I took this title from one of the songs in the album. I made that song, taking inspiration from “Human Behavior” by Björk. I think my way of experiencing life has a lot to do with humor, which helps me a lot not to get too caught up in my own stuff. Even though I know it’s a long title and it might come across as pretentious, for me it’s like a little joke. Everyone wants certainties, answers (me included) but I’ve found that accepting confusion and laughing about yourself is also liberating.

The repertoire is almost entirely original. How does your compositional process usually begin: does it start from the voice, the text, harmony, or an overall concept?

It depends. Some songs come all at once, harmony, melody and text like a big waterfall from my body into sound. But that’s not the common case. In general, I’ll start by improvising, whether from the voice or with an instrument (mostly piano or guitar), and all of a sudden I’m getting tangled in an idea. The inner feeling is that a song has a life of its own, and I’m just observing and helping it to grow however it wants to. Sometimes this process takes months. Maybe there’s different pathways and I’m not sure of which direction to turn to. But eventually, an idea comes and takes over. I think part of it comes from the unconscious; sometimes I don’t know where the lyrics come from until one day I’m like “ah, I was processing this or that emotion or thought”. Other times I have somebody in mind when I write. I also like to write lyrics to existing songs, like I did with McCoy Tyner’s “Search for Peace” (in Spanish, “Volverte a Ver”) or Sam Rivers’ “Beatrice” in my previous duo album with guitarist Alesander Peña (My Blue Heaven, 2024). I like taking pre-existing melodies that I love and trying to figure out the words that may be in them, like a sort of puzzle.

Jazz, improvised music, song form and contemporary textures coexist throughout the album. Are you trying to break down labels, or do you simply work outside of them?

The truth is, I haven’t tried very hard to label this music. Through the process of arranging and mixing, as it’s a more rational task for me than composing, I came to realize more about my references. While looking for the exact sounds I heard in my head, I started finding songs that already had those sounds in them. Not so much for the composition itself, but more for its dressing (instrumentation, mix/effects). That’s how I learned that for example, some of my main references for sound are Screaming Headless Torsos, Erykah Badu or Beck. I love how some of their albums sound. Then, I guess my answer to your question would be that I simply work outside of them.

What role do arrangement and collective writing play in your music? How is the dialogue with the musicians involved in the album built?

I absolutely admire the musicians I’ve worked with on this album. When trying out a new song with one of my bands, most of the time I leave plenty of space for individual interpretation of their parts. After all, they know their instruments better than I do. When it comes to the song itself (harmony, melody, structure) I usually have my ideas pretty clear, but for choosing specific sounds or ways to play a bassline, chords or drum patterns, I rely on my musicians. The music is fed by everyone’s creativity, so I always learn something new and this makes me feel very full. It’s also part of my love for jazz and improvised music, where interplay is basic.

Beyond being a singer, you are also an arranger, composer and vocal explorer. How do you understand the voice within your creative universe?

The voice is my main vehicle of expression. I’m in love with this instrument, as it never ceases to amaze and liberate me. Even when I’m in those moments of the learning/creative process where I’m uncomfortable with my own sound, I still feel lucky to have chosen it as my main field of investigation.

In a context strongly shaped by technique and academic training, what place does intuition occupy in your creative process?

David Lynch once said that intuition is a thinking feeling, and this completely resonates with me. It seems to me that intuition and curiosity walk hand in hand in the creative process. In my case, I’ve realized that naming the things that I’m doing naturally, gives me a certain power to understand where I’ve stepped before; just as learning the theory gives me the power to widen my ears and hear the new possibilities that may be offered to me. So, for me, intuition is most important, but also the understanding and the use of theoretical knowledge.

You have studied and worked in different European contexts and maintain an active dialogue with scenes such as the Portuguese one. What do you think defines today’s new generation of European jazz, and how does your music engage with it?

It’s a complex question, because I don’t think there’s a single European jazz scene anymore. There are many different scenes happening simultaneously across the continent, and they’re all very rich. In cities like Barcelona or Lisbon, for example, you can find some of the finest bebop players I’ve heard, as well as very diverse and beautiful free improvisation scenes. I’d need to travel more to really understand what’s happening in other countries, but from what I’ve heard, Northern Europe tends to lean more towards contemporary classical music merged with jazz language and sound, while in places like Germany and Belgium there seems to be a stronger interest in electronics and hybrid formats. Also I think the word “jazz” has expanded a lot, and I’m not sure what it means anymore. There’s also the term “BLAM” (Black American Music), which for me offers a broader perspective on the roots of this music. In that sense, I think my music engages with my generation through both respect for what was created in past decades and the need to fearlessly combine one’s own individual influences.

In March 2025 you received the Best Soloist Award at the European Young Artists’ Jazz Award Burghausen. What did this recognition mean to you at this stage of your career?

To be a singer and receive this kind of recognition has made me understand better how people see and hear me. I love singing songs, but I’m also an improviser and I’m glad this is welcomed by the audience.

Alongside your solo career, you are involved in projects of very different genres and sonic sensibilities, such as Veus Lliures, your duo with Alesander Peña, and the trio Kimera. What creative need does each of these projects fulfil?

Veus Lliures is a project led by Celeste Alías. There’s 13 women in the group, and we’ve been investigating the human voice related to pure sound, collective free improvisation and conducting with signs for the past five years. Being able to share music with these wonderful people has made me learn a lot about the voice, and it’s also widened my ears as listening is most important in an improvisational situation (especially with so many people). Sander and I formed this duo back in 2019, just before the pandemic. Playing with somebody so consistently through the years makes you feel really confident, because you get to know each other’s sound so well, that music becomes a conversation with your best friend. Sander’s playing matches my singing perfectly, as we follow each other’s ideas in a way that’s really rare to find. It’s been almost a year since I started playing with Dani Artetxe (guitarist) and Dani Pimen (drummer). Our trio is basically a mix of progressive rock, post-punk, free improvisation and (sometimes) jazz. We’re finishing a bunch of original songs now, and I’m very excited because I get to be my weirdest, funniest, most extravagant self with them.

How do you imagine the evolution of your music and projects in the coming years?

Honestly, I have no idea. I only know I’m doing well now, because I’m currently working on music that’s got me thrilled, and playing with people I admire profoundly. I trust life to bring me as much music, experiences and joy as I’m open to receive.

In a context dominated by speed, digital platforms and artificial intelligence, what do you think we need to protect as artists?

I think I’m still trying to understand the direction things are taking in this regard. The logical thing for me would be to get the AI to do the work nobody wants to do, not to steal what brings us humans purpose and drive in life. I think technological progress is fantastic, but I’m afraid the people who decide how that technology is used are not always aligned with human and artistic values and rights. It makes me sad to see the direction our world may be taking in the upcoming years, so the only thing I can think of as an artist is to get together more and keep feeding the independent artistic communities that already exist. Humans will always be hungry for the real stuff, and that’s only created by other humans.

For someone listening to do we belong in confusion? for the first time, what would you like them to feel or take away from the experience?

Just a girl making some noises and sharing her passion for sound with some badass musicians onboard.

If you had to define this moment in your life with a single word, what would it be?

Pre-blossom.

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