Hi Sacha!
Hello! Thank you for having me!
How did your journey in the music industry begin, and what motivated you to pursue a music career?
I officially became a “recording artist” as a teenager when I stumbled into an opportunity to telecommute vocals to a couple Japanese music houses. Along the way, I went to music schools, sang for backup for people, did session vocals and arranging, was in a few bands… Eventually, I released my first real solo album in 2013. I think about my motivation a lot, and it always comes down to an obsession with voice, chords, production, and expression. I like the idea of painting with sound, and in the space of my career where I’m able to focus on making, recording, and resonating off of others—that’s one of the places in my life where I feel happiest.
What role has your upbringing played in shaping your musical style and artistic identity?
My mother and paternal grandmother get a lot of credit for encouraging me towards pursuing music as a craft, and I felt really supported by many teachers during school. When you’re young, things seldom have definition. It’s sort of like you just experience things thrown at you, rather than directing them. When I sang in choirs or played the piano, or even just listened to music to figure out what was happening in a song, it always felt like something I excelled at, and there wasn’t really anything more to it than that. I think my naïveté and aloofness allowed me to be goofy and creative, and to build worlds and characters and all sorts of things that if you don’t have that permission to create without borders as a child, it can be really difficult to color outside the lines later on.
How do you stay inspired and motivated to create music throughout your career?
For how solitary a person I can be, I’m pretty influenced by the human condition. So I talk with people about their day, my day, and read a lot of books. Fiction, memoirs, cookbooks, instructional manuals. Music and life are often like puzzle games to survive, but for me, in that survival comes a need to create new work or inhabit music from any angle.
Can you share the inspiration behind your latest album “Casino Wilderness Period,” and the creative process involved in its production?
Years ago, I attended a concert at a casino where I was struck by a collection of headshots featuring musicians and comedians locked into the casino circuit, many of whom were legends. While part of me acknowledges that “a gig’s a gig,” and performing and sharing one’s work is valuable regardless of the venue, I couldn’t shake the feeling of sadness at seeing these talented individuals reduced to mere entertainment. Having experienced the industry from various angles – as an artist, educator, press relations consultant, and talent scout – I’ve witnessed many people feeling lost, used, and adrift. My goal in this life is to offer support and validation to those who take the risk of putting themselves out there. Amidst the chaos of the industry, I wanted my own album to be a significant artistic statement, reflecting my journey towards my own self-realization.
Collaborating with Todd Rittmann as my producer was crucial, as his confidence in his own music inspired me to trust my own ideas. I owe so much to him for helping me feel brave. This all sounds so serious, and in many ways it is, but there was a lot of laughter, coffee, and sandwiches along the way. Todd makes the whole experience of making music feel so good. His drumming, his bass playing, and his friendship. Just a super cool guy. It was a very trusting time. I wrote a lot of songs, demoed many of them with my very talented friend Gabriel Riccio, and then Todd and I would sift through what would be the best for a body of work. Life sometimes got in the way, so we had a few starts and stops in the actual making of the record. But it was all for the better because then we could stand back in those gap times and really think about what was working in a song. Any rare moment of clashing was because we wanted the best out of the music and each other. I couldn’t be more proud of the results and ourselves, truly.
What themes or concepts do you explore in the album, and how does “Window Out” contribute to those themes?
I can be pretty existential, and like I said, I think a lot about people. I think a lot about connection, disconnection, life transitions, clarity, and what it means to love. For “Window Out”, I think the chorus where I allude to feeling like dying on a hardwood kind of summarizes all of that. (laughs)
How did the creative process for “Window Out” unfold, from the initial idea to the final recording?
Some songs come so quickly, and others take time. “Window Out” came in a moment that felt like possession, honestly. Almost like automatic writing. I had a very long day of teaching, and then as I was packing things up in my classroom, I felt the need to go back to the piano, and suddenly these chords and words started coming out. I decided to just leave most of the song as-is, but it’s interesting what the subconscious can do. After I recorded it into my phone and scrawled the lyrics down, I went to Aldi to go buy groceries. (laughs) After that, when it came time years later to revisit the song, I felt like it was shaping up as the only thing that could close out the record. My songs are seldom strictly about one person or one situation, but I think because of the way the song was written, the lyrics ended up touching base on everything I wanted to say.
How would you describe the overall sound and atmosphere of “Window Out” in comparison to the rest of the album?
It’s hard to say, isn’t it? It feels somewhat declarative but mysterious. There are these strong pulses throughout, but then these beautiful floating things that run concurrent. The great Mem Nahadr guests with me on this song, and her voice is haunting and integral. She pops in and out with bite in some moments, and ghostly whistles in others. The whole album feels cinematic, but to me, this feels like the conclusion as well as a beginning.
Can you share a memorable or impactful moment in your career that has stayed with you throughout the years?
Thankfully there are so many. I feel charmed in that way. Because we’re honed in on “Window Out”, the one that comes to mind right now is Mem calling me on the phone to say that I was a cosmic gift, a sentiment I easily reciprocate towards her tenfold. Mem holds a special place in my heart, and our occasional phone conversations still resonate deeply with me. Her words always seem to arrive at just the right moment, straight from the depths of her soul. Mem’s music and life embody adventure and authenticity, making her friendship even more profound. When someone you admire extends not only their presence in your work but also genuine reciprocal kindness, it’s a feeling that transcends words, leaving me deeply moved and grateful.
What is the most fulfilling aspect of being a musician for you?
Singing in harmony and/or taking a nap. (laughs)
How do you handle criticism and feedback, both positive and negative, in your journey as an artist?
It’s dependent on how it’s delivered, but I do my best to take everything in stride. And you can tell when someone is genuine in their praise. Most people are very kind, and because I’m a fan of so many musicians, it’s pretty great to be on the receiving end of people thinking great things about you and your work. I will admit that because my music borrows from so many elements, I’ve found my music to be a bit of a Rorschach test for listeners. So when someone is effusive, and they give a point of comparison I might find …unsettling, (laughs) I try my best to take the compliment wholeheartedly, because to them, a reference point might be their favorite thing. So in that way, really in any way, I’m honored to be thought of so highly!
I don’t think too much about feedback that could be construed as negative so much as I think about it constructively. A majority of the reviews have been glowing, which is great, but sometimes you actually want to hear something that didn’t work for that individual writer, because then you can choose to consider their perspective as a listener and see if you can hear a path to better your output. That sort of thing isn’t personal, it’s about wanting to make better and better music. A few reviews over the years have been really helpful in that way.
In situations where someone is pointed, which has happened, then that’s unfortunate. I’m only human, and don’t appreciate being insulted. I’ll likely ruminate on that, which I try not to—but hey, I’m doing the best I can. And ultimately, if someone feels like they need to use their column space to project their own insecurities by belittling others, then that’s for them to have to think about why they’d be doing that, rather than trying to see the best in what they’re supposed to be constructively critiquing, while possibly suggesting what they wish they were hearing.
How do you connect with your audience on a personal level, and what role do your fans play in your career?
I don’t do nearly as much social media as I “should”, but Instagram or email is the best place to reach out to me for the time being. I get some very lovely emails and messages from fans, many abroad, which is revealing in a way about music taste and distribution, but also I’m kind of in awe that I’ve been able to connect and move people across the globe. When you’re writing music largely for yourself, it’s only later that you have to contend with the fear that it might not be well received outside your own brain. I try to write back to as many messages I get, and when I talk to a supporter in person, as long as I’m being respected, I try to make them feel as welcomed and validated as they do for me. I’m so grateful that there are real people who appreciate my work, whether that’s because of my voice, or my writing, or the soundscapes, or whatever it is—the fact that someone has taken the time out of their day to think of you means everything.
I don’t do nearly as much social media as I “should”, but Instagram or email is the best place to reach out to me for the time being. I get some very lovely emails and messages from fans, many abroad, which is revealing in a way about music taste and distribution, but also I’m kind of in awe that I’ve been able to connect and move people across the globe. When you’re writing music largely for yourself, it’s only later that you have to contend with the fear that it might not be well received outside your own brain. I try to write back to as many messages I get, and when I talk to a supporter in person, as long as I’m being respected, I try to make them feel as welcomed and validated as they do for me. I’m so grateful that there are real people who appreciate my work, whether that’s because of my voice, or my writing, or the soundscapes, or whatever it is—the fact that someone has taken the time out of their day to think of you means everything.
