Rose Wollman and “Becoming America” – Five Composers, Five Stories, One Nation

Becoming America Album cover

With “Becoming America”, violist Rose Wollman brings together five composers and five distinct perspectives in an album that explores identity, heritage, belonging and the meaning of home.

Music has always been a way of telling stories that might otherwise go unheard. It carries the memories of families, the traditions of communities and the experiences of people whose lives rarely find their way into the grand narratives of history. It can speak across generations, preserve a sense of where we come from and, perhaps most importantly, help us understand the lives of people whose experiences are different from our own.

That very sense of connection runs through Becoming America, the new album from violist Rose Wollman, alongside soprano Maria Brea and pianist Dror Baitel. Bringing together five newly commissioned works, the album takes a subject as vast as the American experience and approaches it through something much more intimate: the individual stories of five composers and the histories, cultures and identities that have shaped them.

There is an interesting musical proposition at the heart of this project. Rather than asking a group of composers to write variations on a single theme, Wollman has given each of them the opportunity to explore what America means through their own background and perspective. The resulting works draw on African American, Asian American, Indigenous Cree, Jewish and Latin American experiences, creating a collection that moves between personal reflection, historical memory and the possibility of a different future.

What makes this particularly engaging is the variety of musical voices involved. Art song, opera, traditional music and jazz all find their place within the album, with the combination of viola, soprano and piano providing a common thread. There is an intimacy to this arrangement that suits the subject matter. The voice brings words and human expression to the foreground, the piano offers a changing musical landscape, while the viola moves between the roles of melodic companion, storyteller and expressive voice in its own right.

The five composers take the project in very different directions.

Nailah Nombeko, working with librettist Mary McCallum, explores the history of the African diaspora in the United States in Illumination Amidst the Darkness. It is a subject that demands an acknowledgement of suffering but also of the endurance, creativity and humanity of those who have lived through it. The work looks towards a history that cannot be comfortably separated from the present, while recognising the hope that has survived through generations.

Cris Derksen approaches the subject from another perspective in Declaration of Interdependence. A Cree composer from Ontario, she writes from the perspective of Mother Earth, turning the album’s questions of responsibility and belonging towards the natural world. It is a reminder that our relationship with home extends beyond borders and buildings. There is a much larger environment of which we are all a part, and one that requires care rather than exploitation.

In Our Collective Heart, Israeli-American jazz singer and composer Tamuz Nissim looks towards peace, drawing on English and Hebrew to express a longing for a better future. Her musical language brings jazz influences into the ensemble, adding another dimension to an album that is never content to remain within the boundaries of one tradition.

Rene Orth’s Today I Remember considers the complicated experience of immigration and assimilation. Drawing on poetry from the walls of Angel Island, a haiku by Murakami Kijo and writing created in response to anti-Asian violence during the pandemic, the work connects the experiences of people separated by generations but joined by questions of identity and belonging. It is a particularly thoughtful reminder that the journey towards a new life does not necessarily mean leaving the past behind.

Then there is Alabanza, composed by Francisco Cortés-Álvarez and inspired by Martín Espada’s poem remembering the Latin American kitchen workers who lost their lives at the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. The piece begins with the busy rhythmic energy of an ordinary working kitchen, before that familiar movement gives way to an eerie stillness. As the music develops, the pulse returns in a darker form, its earlier everyday rhythm transformed into something more ominous. It is a striking musical way of remembering the people whose lives existed beyond the historical event that would eventually define their final moments.

Across these five works, the voice is particularly important. This is music that has something to say, but it never feels as though the words are simply being placed over an instrumental accompaniment. The relationship between soprano, viola and piano allows the text and music to develop together, each contributing to the emotional character of the story. There is room for lyrical expression, rhythmic movement and moments of uncertainty, and that variety gives the album its sense of individuality.

Wollman’s own role in bringing these works into existence is central. As a performer and champion of contemporary composition, she has spent much of her career encouraging composers to explore the possibilities of the viola. Here, that commitment becomes part of a wider purpose. She has created the conditions for five different artistic voices to be heard, while allowing their differences to remain intact.

There is also a personal connection behind the project. Wollman’s family history encompasses different waves of European immigration, Jewish heritage and a marriage to an immigrant from Brazil. Her daughter’s identity brings together several generations of that story. It is easy to understand why the idea of America as a place continually shaped by the people who arrive, settle and make lives there would hold such significance for her.

But Becoming America is not simply a celebration of cultural diversity. It asks us to consider the distance between the ideals a country promotes and the experiences of the people living within it. The American Dream, the melting pot and the promise of freedom are familiar ideas, but they do not describe everyone’s reality equally. The album acknowledges that contradiction without allowing it to become the whole story.

What emerges instead is a belief in the importance of listening. Five composers have been invited to bring their own experiences into the room, and the result is not a single definition of America, but a much richer collection of perspectives. There are difficult histories here, questions that remain unresolved and memories that cannot be separated from the present. Yet there is also warmth, creativity and a genuine sense of possibility.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the title is that Becoming America describes an ongoing process rather than a finished identity. A country is never simply the sum of its founding principles or its official history. It is shaped every day by the people who live in it, the stories they tell, the traditions they carry and the futures they hope to build.

Music cannot solve the inequalities that this album brings into focus, but it can make us listen differently. It can give an individual story the attention it deserves and remind us that behind every broad description of a community there are people with their own memories, relationships and ambitions.

Rose

About Rose Wollman

Acclaimed violist Rose Wollman has built a career around championing new music and expanding the expressive possibilities of her instrument. Described as “innovative” and “stylish” by the Chicago Classical Review, she has performed at venues including Carnegie Hall, Suntory Hall and KKL Switzerland, and has commissioned and premiered more than 20 works for viola.

Her recordings include Loop: Ligeti’s Inspiration & Legacy, Partita Party and Breaking Glass Ceilings: Music by Unruly Women. She is Assistant Professor of Viola at Colorado State University and serves on the board of the American Viola Society.

Connect with Rose Wollman on her Website

VIDEO VOYAGEUR: 3 Q’s WITH MARIO MATTIA

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An improvisational pianist and composer, Mario Mattia lets instinct take the lead, creating music that takes shape in real time. In his new release “Parallax Field”, he gives us a closer look at the creative process behind that approach.

For most musicians, the process of creating a piece of music begins with an idea. There might be a melody, a chord sequence, a particular feeling or even a fragment of something that eventually develops into a finished composition. For Mario Mattia, the starting point is rather different. He sits at the piano without a predetermined structure, theme or destination, allowing the music to find its own direction as he plays. What emerges is impossible to plan in advance and, perhaps more importantly, impossible to recreate in exactly the same way.

An American pianist and composer with a background at New England Conservatory, Mario has built his musical practice around this freedom of expression. His improvisations move between lyrical, contemplative passages and more abstract explorations of harmony, texture and rhythm, often taking unexpected turns along the way. There is no fixed formula, only the instrument, the moment and the willingness to follow wherever the music leads.

His new video, “Parallax Field”, offers an opportunity to see this process at close quarters. Filmed during an uninterrupted piano improvisation, it brings the physical act of creating the music into focus, while four abstract images introduce an additional visual dimension. It is an invitation to look beyond the finished recording and consider the decisions, movements and moments of expression that make up a spontaneous performance.

We spoke to Mario about the thinking behind “Parallax Field”, his relationship with improvisation, and why he believes some of the most interesting musical discoveries happen when you have no idea what is coming next.

Tell us the story of this track. Why did you choose to visualize the song specifically in this way?

“Parallax Field” is an entirely spontaneous piano improvisation, created without a predetermined theme, structure, or musical destination. What unfolds is a reflection of my emotional and intellectual state at that particular moment, expressed through the instrument in real time.

I chose to film myself performing because I wanted listeners to experience something beyond the music itself: to witness the actual process of spontaneous creation. Seeing the hands move across the keyboard, the interplay of technical facility and lyrical expression, and the immediacy of musical decisions offers a perspective that listening alone cannot provide.

I also incorporated four abstract images at various points throughout the seven minute performance. These provide visual contrast, complement the character of the music, and introduce another dimension without distracting from the central experience of watching the improvisation unfold.

What was the inspiration behind this video? (Visual, storyline, etc.)

There was no specific external inspiration or preconceived storyline, either for the music or its visual presentation. In fact, that absence of preconception is fundamental to my approach to improvisation.

When I sit at the piano, I allow the music to develop organically, guided by what I’m feeling and thinking in that particular moment. The result is often a musical journey that I could neither anticipate nor reproduce exactly.

My visual approach follows much the same philosophy. Rather than attempting to illustrate a particular narrative, I selected abstract imagery that resonated with the music’s evolving character. The images suggest possibilities rather than dictate interpretations, leaving viewers free to discover their own associations.

Ultimately, I wanted the visual experience to preserve the freedom, immediacy, and unpredictability that characterize the music itself.

What was the process of making this video?

The process began with a live, uninterrupted improvisation at the piano. I filmed the performance using my iPhone with the Blackmagic Camera app, while simultaneously recording the music through my dedicated, high-quality audio recording system. The iPhone was used exclusively for the video, not the audio.

Afterward, I mastered the audio recording to preserve its dynamic range, tonal character, and expressive nuances. I then selected four abstract images that I felt complemented different moments in the improvisation, created the cover artwork, and assembled the visual elements.

Using DaVinci Resolve, I synchronized the mastered audio with the performance footage, incorporated the abstract imagery, and refined the transitions and overall presentation.

Although the production process involved considerable attention to detail, the underlying musical performance remained entirely spontaneous and unaltered. That distinction is important to me: the video is carefully produced, but the music itself is an unplanned, authentic expression of a single moment in time.

Watch “Parallax Field” here:

Connect with Mario Mattia on his Website

VIDEO VOYAGEUR: 3 Q’s WITH SIREN

SIREN February s Son

There is something darkly playful about SIREN’s latest release, “No More”. Exploring the complications of marriage, lifelong promises and the rather inconvenient matter of death, the song takes the familiar idea of “till death do us part” and gives it a decidedly different interpretation. Its accompanying music video, directed and edited by Wayne Joyner, takes the story into the afterlife, where unresolved relationship issues apparently have a habit of following you.

Featuring the band as skeletons, pumpkins and plenty of Halloween-inspired imagery, the video brings a healthy dose of dark humour to a song that is surprisingly uplifting musically. We caught up with SIREN to discuss the inspiration behind “No More”, the creative collaboration with Wayne Joyner, the making of the video and the ideas that brought this rather unusual love story to life.

1. Tell us the story of this song, why did you choose to visualize the song specifically in this way?

“No More” explores a Married couple questioning their vows and the meaning of “till death do us part” aspect. Wayne created the video and went straight to the afterlife and it really worked well for this song.

2. What was the inspiration behind this video? (visual, storyline, etc.)?

That was Wayne’s vision and He nailed it!!!

3. What was the process of making this video?

We went through about four drafts before it was completed. The band as skeletons, pumpkins and the smoking candle were all from input from Randy, Mike and I. We thought we might as well make a Halloween video. I believe it came out fantastic.

Watch the Official Music Video to “No More” here:

Connect with SIREN on the Website

David Diaz Reconnects With His Creative Freedom on “Are We Gonna Talk?”

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David Diaz’s latest single “Are We Gonna Talk?” is built around bright synths, an infectious rhythmic pulse and the kind of melodic immediacy that makes ’80s-inspired pop so enduring. Yet beneath that buoyant production lies a much more complicated story about disappointment, unanswered messages and the moment you realise a friendship may have run its course.

The song began with a falling out between Diaz and a close friend. Having repeatedly made himself available when the other person needed him, he eventually found himself asking for something relatively simple in return: time and company. When that never materialised, the frustration became impossible to ignore. One unanswered promise to call back, followed by weeks of silence, provided the unlikely starting point for a song that would eventually become one of his most immediately engaging releases.

Listen in:

Written and recorded on the very night of the incident, “Are We Gonna Talk?” captures the emotion before time had softened its edges. There is confusion, irritation and a growing recognition that sometimes another person’s silence tells you everything you need to know. Rather than getting lost in the details of one particular friendship, however, Diaz leaves room for listeners to bring their own experiences to the song. Its pronouns and phrasing allow the story to extend beyond friendship into the wider territory of relationships, family and the people we once expected to be there for us.

The track takes a very different route from its emotional subject matter. Driving drums, bright keyboard lines and a satisfyingly funky undercurrent give it a polished synth-pop character, drawing on the sounds of the 1980s while keeping its feet firmly in contemporary pop. Diaz’s affection for that era is genuine, extending beyond music into its films, visual culture and distinctive sense of atmosphere. The intention isn’t to recreate a particular moment in pop history but to take the elements he loves and make them his own.

Producer Luke Kondak proved an important part of that process, helping translate Diaz’s ideas into a fully realised arrangement. The production retains much of the original demo’s character, including the slightly gritty, distorted quality of the lead vocal. Layered harmonies and call-and-response passages add movement, while the contrast between the bright instrumental backdrop and the song’s more bruised lyrical perspective gives it much of its appeal.

There is also an interesting story behind the single’s accompanying visual campaign. Initially reluctant to make a music video, Diaz was persuaded by friends Kahlil Antonio and Abiesel Báez to take the concept in an altogether more theatrical direction. The result is an affectionate nod to B-movie slasher films, complete with a group of supposed David Diaz detractors, a scrapbook documenting their grievances and a masked figure determined to deal with the situation. The eventual revelation that the avenger is Diaz himself gives the video a knowingly ridiculous twist, turning the idea of removing toxic influences from your life into a wonderfully over-the-top horror-comedy premise.

It is an entertaining extension of the song’s themes, but there is a more significant change taking place behind the scenes. Are We Gonna Talk? marks Diaz’s first solo release since 2023, following a period in which he deliberately stepped away from the demands of regular releases and the expectation that an artist should constantly be generating content, chasing numbers and maintaining momentum. That time allowed him to reconsider what he wanted from music. He still wants people to hear his songs, but he is increasingly interested in the connection that can happen between an artist and a listener than in the pursuit of attention for its own sake.

That perspective gives the single an appealing sense of freedom. It is catchy, carefully produced and clearly designed to make an impression, but it also feels like the work of someone who has stopped worrying quite so much about what the industry expects. Even the original friendship that inspired the song has since been repaired, allowing Diaz to revisit the experience with a degree of distance and humour.

“Are We Gonna Talk?” succeeds because it brings together two seemingly opposing qualities: an immediately accessible pop sound and a story rooted in the uncomfortable realities of human relationships. David Diaz has turned a moment of personal frustration into something bright, playful and surprisingly universal.

More importantly, he seems to be enjoying the process again, and that enthusiasm comes through in every part of the record.

Website / Spotify / YouTube Music

Miriam Armonie Finds The Courage To Sit With Complicated Feelings On Latest Release “You Should Know”

There is something revealing about a song written from the perspective of someone who wants to be understood but cannot quite find the words to explain themselves. It is an emotional contradiction that sits at the heart of Miriam Armonie’s “You Should Know,” a single that explores the uncomfortable territory between attraction and avoidance, vulnerability and self-preservation, and the things we want from other people versus the things we feel equipped to give them.

Emerging from New York’s creative scene, Armonie is building a musical identity around atmosphere, and a willingness to let different influences inform her songwriting. Her latest single draws on personal experience, revisiting a relationship in which someone wanted more from her than she felt able to offer.

At the time, she was focused on establishing her career and lacked the emotional maturity and experience to navigate the situation with the sensitivity it deserved. The person in question was someone she cared about deeply, which only made the decision to distance herself more difficult. Rather than risk leading him on, she chose to cut contact altogether, a decision she now recognises could have been handled differently.

That backstory gives “You Should Know” its weight. This is a song shaped by hindsight, by the realisation that protecting yourself from a situation you do not know how to manage can leave another person hurt and unanswered questions lingering long after the moment has passed. There is an important distinction here between not wanting someone and not knowing how to make room for them in your life. Armonie is interested in exploring the possibility that feelings can be genuine even when the person experiencing them is unable to act on them in a healthy or constructive way.

The song also touches on the complicated relationship between avoidance and vulnerability. Sometimes, withdrawing feels easier than explaining yourself, particularly when you are still learning how to articulate your own insecurities. The difficulty is that silence can communicate something very different from what you intended. In looking back at her own behaviour, Armonie allows herself to acknowledge the hurt she may have caused without dismissing the reasons behind her decision. It is an honest, recognisable form of reflection, and one that gives the song more nuance than a straightforward tale of missed romantic opportunity.

Musically, “You Should Know” carries the kind of soft and ambient rock landscape that is shaping Armonie’s forthcoming Blue Hour EP. The project takes its name from that fleeting period between day and night, a space that seems particularly suited to songs concerned with uncertainty, memory and emotional states. Armonie’s interest in combining genres also suggests an artist who sees sound as something to explore rather than a formula to repeat.

That curiosity is central to her approach. While Blue Hour leans towards softer, atmospheric rock, Armonie has already written material that moves into funk, groove, disco and punk. Her musical influences include Sade, Lana Del Rey, Anita Baker, Willow and Olivia Rodrigo, artists whose work demonstrates different ways of balancing a distinctive identity with an appetite for experimentation. Sade, in particular, represents an ideal for Armonie: a performer whose understated vocal delivery can convey enormous feeling without relying on theatrical excess. It is a useful reference point for an artist interested in the subtleties of emotional expression.

Beyond her own releases, Armonie is developing her work as a songwriter and producer with ambitions to create music for other artists. She is also outspoken about the importance of retaining creative control, particularly for women working in an industry where experience and authority can too easily be used to undermine their instincts. That determination to trust her own perspective is reflected in the personal nature of her writing. She is willing to revisit decisions she regrets, examine the less flattering parts of her own behaviour and consider what those experiences have taught her.

With “You Should Know,” Miriam Armonie turns an uncomfortable personal memory into an opportunity for understanding. The song’s tension lies in the gap between feeling something and knowing what to do with it, a space where good intentions can become tangled in fear, uncertainty and the inability to communicate.

As the Blue Hour project continues to take shape ahead of its 2027 release, “You Should Know” offers a compelling introduction to an artist whose songwriting is as interested in the questions we leave unanswered as it is in the emotions we find the courage to express.

Keep up with everything Miriam Armonie on her Website

SulkyMan’s “The Things I Said” – Chris Pascoe Exhumes Four Long Lost Recordings that Capture the Restless Spirit of Indie Rock at its Most Inventive

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Three decades is a long time for a song to wait to be heard. Somewhere between the hiss of an old four-track recorder and the shifting currents of London’s underground music scene, Chris Pascoe captured a handful of ideas that would eventually slip out of view, leaving four recordings to gather dust while life took him in other directions. Now, as SulkyMan, he has brought them back into the light, and the results are a fascinating glimpse into a period when guitar music could be gloriously wayward, instinctive and unconcerned with staying in its lane.

Recorded around 1995 on a Yamaha MT50 four track analogue recorder, these songs have survived without losing the curious energy that made them worth recording in the first place. There are wiry guitars, restless rhythms, unexpected melodic turns and an appealing roughness that feels inseparable from their character. Rather than sounding like relics retrieved for nostalgia’s sake, the four tracks reveal a songwriter already comfortable following an idea wherever it leads. What emerges is not simply a document of Pascoe’s musical past, but a reminder that some songs can outlive the circumstances in which they were created and still have a few surprises left.

Listen here:

The title track opens the collection with shimmering jangling guitars and a beautifully measured bass part that gives the arrangement warmth and movement. There is a natural swing to the music, an ease in the way the melodic elements find their places, and spaciousness that allows the song to unfold without losing its infectious quality. It has the DNA of classic nineties indie, when guitar bands could be melodic without becoming predictable and atmospheric without disappearing into their own introspection. Yet there is something appealingly timeless about it, too. Had “The Things I Said” emerged during the original heyday of the Britpop era, it would not have sounded out of place. Heard now, it carries the pleasure of discovering a song that has somehow escaped the usual boundaries of its time.

“I Wonder Why” takes a more unsettled route. The guitars have a nervous, slightly careering quality, moving between melodic passages and rougher, more insistent textures. There are shadows of post punk in the atmosphere, with something of Echo & the Bunnymen’s brooding musicality and the ragged charm associated with Nikki Sudden. The bass deserves particular attention here, providing a fluid counterpoint to the guitars and giving the song much of its distinctive character. It is an arrangement that thrives on the interplay between its parts, with tension and melody pulling against one another in a way that keeps the listener engaged.

“Nothing Is Easy” brings a sharper edge to the collection. Its angular guitar work and snarling delivery suggest a song with little patience for easy answers, while unexpected melodic turns lend it a more playful character than the title might imply. There is a hint of the Beatles in the way the melody seems to emerge from within the song’s rougher exterior, a reminder that memorable pop instincts can survive even the most unconventional arrangements. Pascoe seems comfortable allowing these contrasting elements to coexist.

“Never Change” completes the quartet with a nod towards the more restless end of new wave and post-punk. There is a tautness to the song, a sense of unresolved movement that suits the material, while its melodic instincts keep it from becoming overly austere. Across these four recordings, that balance between accessibility and eccentricity becomes one of SulkyMan’s defining qualities. Pascoe understands that a song can be catchy without being obvious, and rough around the edges without sacrificing musical detail.

What makes the collection particularly interesting is the knowledge that these recordings represent an earlier stage in an ongoing creative life. Pascoe has travelled an unusual musical road, from his teenage years playing bass in London anarcho-punk band Part 1 to his later involvement in the underground tech-house scene, before developing SulkyMan into a solo project in which he writes, performs, records and produces his own material. Across those different worlds, he has consistently followed his own instincts rather than settling into one recognisable musical identity.

The songs collected here reveal the foundations of that independence. There is an instinctive understanding of arrangement, a willingness to let contrasting moods sit alongside one another, and a melodic sensibility that prevents the music from becoming an exercise in obscurity. The analogue limitations may have influenced the way these recordings were made, but they have not diminished their character. Instead, the music retains the sense of discovery that comes from an artist working things out for himself, following a line of thought wherever it happens to lead.

There is also something quietly moving about hearing music return after so much time. Thirty years can change the meaning of a song, even when the recording itself remains untouched. Lines written in one period of life inevitably acquire different shades of meaning when heard from another, while the sound of a younger self can become an unexpected conversation between past and present. Pascoe has spoken of his amazement at finding these recordings again, and it is easy to understand the appeal of bringing them into the world after believing they had disappeared from view.

The beauty of “The Things I Said” and its companion tracks is that they do not need their history to justify their existence. The story behind their recovery adds interest, certainly, but the music stands on its own merits. The guitars have character, the bass lines reward attention, and the melodies linger long after the songs have finished. More than anything, there is a sense of artistic freedom running through the collection, the sound of someone making music because the ideas are there and need to be followed.

Plenty of recordings from the nineties survive as nostalgic souvenirs of a particular scene or sound. SulkyMan’s rediscovered material offers something more satisfying. These four songs feel like fragments of an unfinished conversation, recovered from the past and given another chance to be heard. They are reminders that good songwriting does not necessarily come with an expiry date, and that the passage of time can occasionally turn a forgotten recording into a new beginning.

For Chris Pascoe, the past has proved to be a surprisingly fertile place to start again. With “The Things I Said”, SulkyMan brings a long-lost piece of musical history back into circulation, and finds that the songs still have plenty of life left in them.

About SulkyMan

SulkyMan is the solo project of London musician Chris Pascoe, a songwriter and multi-instrumentalist whose musical journey spans the worlds of anarcho-punk, underground electronic music and alternative guitar rock. Beginning his musical life as a teenage bass player in London anarcho-punk band Part 1, Pascoe went on to explore the underground tech house scene before developing SulkyMan as a space for his own songwriting, recording and production.

His music brings together melodic instinct, restless guitar work and a willingness to explore the space between indie rock, post-punk and pop. Unconcerned with genre boundaries, Pascoe follows his ideas wherever they lead, balancing angular arrangements and rough edged textures with memorable melodies.

SulkyMan’s latest release, The Things I Said, brings four recordings made around 1995 on a Yamaha MT50 four-track analogue recorder back into circulation. Rediscovered decades after their original creation, the tracks offer a glimpse into Pascoe’s earlier creative life, preserving the spontaneity and independent spirit of the era while revealing a songwriter whose musical instincts have stood the test of time. Rather than simply revisiting the past, SulkyMan gives these long-lost recordings a new life, allowing their distinctive character to find an audience in the present.

Connect with SulkyMan:

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