Colin Self

First and foremost, it’s a great honour to be welcomed back. I had such a phenomenal time the last time I was there. It was actually the first daytime performance I had ever done, and I wasn’t sure how it would go, but it turned out to be a wonderful experience. One of the things that made it so special was the presence of children in the audience. Since it was a daytime show, a lot of kids were there, dancing and having fun. I found myself thinking: Wow, a bunch of them must be teenagers now. That made me reflect on what it means to return, not just to be invited back, but to encounter a place and its people again at a different moment in time. Being in Gijón was such a spectacular and moving experience. So for me, being invited back carries a deep sense of warmth and gratitude.

That’s a really good question. My previous performance, Siblings, explored my relationship with non-biological family, chosen family. ¡Gasp! builds on that, but it shifts the focus toward my connection with communities of the dead. It’s about friends and strangers who have passed away, and how all of us are spiritually connected to people who are no longer here, whether we’re aware of it or not.
I do think there’s continuity between the two works. Over the past five or six years, I’ve been exploring similar ideas — placing relationships at the heart of my artistic practice. Both Siblings and ¡Gasp! aim to create a shared circumstance, a temporary assembly where a group of people comes together for a performance. It becomes an opportunity for everyone involved to bring their own meaning to the themes I introduce.

The album is titled Respite ∞ Levity for the Nameless Ghost in Crisis, and that title itself reflects a desire for people to experience relief and joy, to feel lightness and even laughter. When we performed the show here in Berlin, many people were surprised by how funny it was. It’s interesting because, in most concerts, there’s a more serious tone. In ¡Gasp!, we leave space for serious moments, but also for the audience to feel inspired and moved. You know, we’re never truly alone in time. Whenever we’re struggling or going through difficult moments, we’re connected to those who came before us and those who will come after us.

From a very young age, I was inspired by the DIY feminist movements of the Pacific Northwest. Many of the artists I looked up to didn’t follow conventional paths when it came to music or art. For them, it wasn’t about asking for permission or seeking approval from a dominant culture; it was about liberation, and the freedom to move from one genre or medium to another. I’m really grateful for that because it allows me to create freely. I don’t overthink it. I just make the art that I make, and people often ask, wait, what? Puppets, opera, and music?
I want to show people that we’re all free, and we all have the ability to try new things. Even if we fail, it’s better than not trying at all. The process of learning and discovering something new is such a rewarding and communal experience. None of us had ever made an opera before, but we all came together, researched, and explored what excited and inspired us about the art form.

I don’t know much about this building, but I understand it has historical significance as a theatre. My main thought is about the spirits that might inhabit this space. Thinking about those who have performed here in the past, and how we might respond to their energy.

Yes, I pray before each show. I also like to have a grounding ritual with the ensemble. We stand in a circle, breathe together, use our voices, and make sound. Additionally, I like to set up an altar on stage, a small part of the sound stage where people can come and create a temporary shrine.

Absolutely. I definitely feel that my art is for others. When I’m making performances, I try to remind the ensemble that it's not just a performance for the audience, but also for them as performers. It's almost like we are performing for and with each other, and then there's an audience. It's about creating a shared experience. As I mentioned earlier, I believe there’s this potential to learn and understand more deeply, realising that we can do things we never thought possible when we come together.

Oh my goodness, I feel like there are so many people I love. What can I say? I have my friends, Vila and Marci, who are part of Amnesia Scanner. We’ve made music together before, and I absolutely love Amnesia Scanner, they’re some of my favourite artists in the world. And Freeka Tet — I love Freeka Tet! Let me see who else is performing… Ah, Mun Sing! We did a show together here in Berlin, and he is incredible.

The most dramatic thing for me is that we’re still so recently out of pandemic lockdown. The world has changed so much, and there’s so much to grieve, so much loss. I don’t think we fully comprehend yet how deeply we've been affected by this period, not just the loss of lives, but also the loss of how the world used to be before the pandemic. What I often feel is that it’s a miracle that I still get to step on stage in a room full of people. The fact that we're able to gather together again feels significant. When I'm performing, I sense this incredible joy in the room, a genuine happiness to be together.
But it wasn't just a pandemic. It was also a time of the largest transfer of wealth to the richest thirty people on the planet. Over seventy per cent of the world’s wealth during the pandemic was concentrated in the hands of these billionaires. So, it’s not just about the loss caused by the pandemic; it’s also about class war. We don’t have the resources we once had, and things are only getting worse. I constantly think about this politically, wherever I am, always considering the people affected by these realities.

I envision a future where collectively authored, horizontal, or circular forms of composition make a comeback, returning to more analogue ways of performing. I believe we’re going to see a burnout of AI as both an aesthetic and a style, with highly polished, professional AI-generated music losing its appeal. People will crave something different, and I see a significant shift towards physical, visceral, in-person performances that are messy, challenging, and transgressive. It will be a movement toward presenting an alternative to what corporations dictate we want or claim to want. At least, that’s my hope.

Amazing, I think you'll have such a great time, it’s such a good festival. For my show there are puppets and it’s very theatrical, there are costumes, group choreography… I’d say it’s more like a theatre production in many ways, more than just a music set.

Awesome, see you soon (laughs)!