Sasha Gefen

I’ve been making music since I was fourteen when my uncle gave me an acoustic guitar for my birthday. I didn’t know how to play, but I started writing songs, playing just one or two strings. Then, when I was sixteen and already knew some chords, I wrote a song for someone I was really in love with. He was a musician, and I wanted to speak his language.

I remember when I was nine, my mom gave me a kids' cassette player. It even had a mic so I could sing along with the music. One day during the Summer holidays, I found two cassettes in the attic of my grandparents’  countryside house. I didn’t know who was singing, but I really liked it. A mysterious voice was singing strange songs, and I was completely blown away by it. Many years later, I discovered that the singer’s name was Björk. Ever since she has been very special to me.

“Performance is an act of giving,” said John Cage. I’m a big fan of his interviews — he was incredibly generous in sharing his thoughts on music and, really, on everything. To me, performance is like a kaleidoscope -every time you shift your perspective, you see something new. I’ve been writing songs for a long time, but a song is not enough. I want to expand it into a larger form, one that requires movement and presence, where I can share the same space with the audience. I love performances where there is no stage, where we are all equal. I enjoy engaging people in the performance because that makes it a mutual journey. Performance is both sharing and a statement —something to be experienced at the moment. Then there’s the element of spontaneity, we never truly know what will happen, and that’s the most exciting part. If performance is a form, then sound is the main tool we use to fill it.

When my daughter was born, I experienced postnatal depression and spent a lot of time alone with her at home. To cope, I sang to her every day, almost all the time. At some point, I realized that singing helped me hold on, getting me through dark winter days and allowing me to keep smiling. That’s when I started wondering if there was a field of research that connected music, singing, emotions, and well-being. I googled it and discovered an entire profession called music therapy. I was thrilled. I immediately started looking for information and any educational courses I could take. At that time, I was living in a place where music therapy wasn’t yet recognized as a profession, but I was determined to learn. A year later, I returned to the children’s hospital where I had previously worked as a social worker. This time, I was placed in a burn unit, where children were recovering from severe injuries. Sometimes, I would simply open the playroom so we could play board games, read together, or sing songs with my ukulele. But the nurses weren’t happy about it — they would come in and say, "This isn’t a music club. Keep quiet." We’d wait until they closed the door, then burst into laughter. Other times, I visited children who couldn’t leave their beds.
I’ll never forget one fourteen-year-old girl who had suffered a severe accident and lost almost all of her skin. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since it happened. I sat beside her bed and, very quietly, started singing a song about forests and flowers. Suddenly, she whispered, "Very beautiful. Please continue." From that day on, I visited her every time I was in the hospital. Slowly, she started talking. I even gave her my ukulele so she could gently touch the strings. I owe a lot to Alisa Apreleva, a Doctor of Music Therapy now living in Oxford. She introduced me—and many others—to the world of music therapy, teaching us about kindness and devotion. Music therapy is a vast field of research, with different branches in neurology and psychotherapy. It is used with elderly people, children, teenagers, and adults. It all began after World War II when doctors noticed that injured soldiers recovered faster when musicians came to sing and play for them. Today, research on sites like Cochrane shows scientific evidence that music truly aids recovery. One of my favourite fun facts about music therapy: If a person with Alzheimer's listens to the music they loved between the ages of sixteen and twenty-three, they can become lucid for ten to fifteen minutes.

Yes, I was in the last-ever term of RBMA (Red Bull Music Academy) in 2018 in Berlin. Unfortunately, the residency no longer exists. That year, there were 6,000 applications, and I got in. I always imagined someone walking around with a huge pile of applications (yes, we had to print them, fill them out by hand, and send them by post), then accidentally dropping mine into the ‘chosen’ pile, hahaha. It was the longest application I had ever filled out—fifty-four or sixty questions—but I actually enjoyed it. It felt like a deep dive into my inner world of music, and in the end, it became one of the best musical experiences of my life. During the residency, we had 24-hour access to the legendary Funkhaus studios, and each participant performed a concert in Berlin. I made some amazing friends, and we still stay in touch. We even collaborated on a track after the residency. I’m incredibly grateful for that experience.
1Beat is a residency in the USA. I applied in 2019, but then COVID happened, and we had to wait for two years. It was postponed twice but finally took place in 2022. For three weeks, we stayed at an art centre with full facilities, working with twenty-three incredible musicians and artists from all over the world. The most valuable thing I took from it was the connections; it’s all about the people. We created several exciting projects, and soon, we’ll be releasing an album with musicians from New Orleans, Barbados, and Colombia. I’m beyond excited about this! Residencies are so important. They create a unique artistic environment, allowing creativity to flow freely. You become fully immersed in your work, and the sound in your head becomes clearer. It’s kind of like going into the forest or fishing—you never know what you’ll discover, but once you do, you can share it with others.

I love vocal improvisation, and I’m deeply passionate about Vocal River, a method invented and shared by my beloved singing guru, Rhiannon. Her teachings inspired me to think about how I could bring vocal improvisation into a performance or even a kind of musical play, where the improvisation remains at the heart of it, but there is still a plot that the audience can follow. I’ve always been drawn to stories; I believe the world is made up of them, the stories of people. Stories become history, and through them, we can look back at something and see that we exist in the mirror of time. The key to these stories is feelings, as they form the core of memory—our way of accessing the past. So I started wondering: What if we could sing people’s feelings and stories? What if we could move and transform those memories and emotions into sound and dance while the audience experiences it in real-time?
At the time I was reflecting on these ideas, the war in Ukraine began in February 2022, and many people were forced to flee, seeking refuge to save their lives. Others left Russia to escape imprisonment; some left as part of their act of resistance. As a result, many of these people came to our performances, seeking a place where they could share, be heard, and be seen. Pascol came to us accidentally as an immediate response to the deep grief shared by five women. Our alertness and sensitivity are part of the method. We truly believe every human story deserves to find itself in the form of art. In times of constant new releases, it is our aim to show that music can come and go, but the essence of it is in presence. I want to honour and mention the names of these wonderful people I worked with in the beginning: Kenia, Vera, Lina, and Ksusha. Now that I’m in the UK, I really miss them. But one great thing—Vera also moved here, and we continue to sing together.  Oh, and the name Pascol is very special. It’s a combination of two words from Hebrew: Pas means “line,” and Kol means “voice.”

I can’t say that I’m leading this project. I move it forward, yes, and I find opportunities, but we all lead together. That’s the point. We all contribute in a unique way, bringing something special that only each of us can offer. We work with forms and instructions, but everything we do is entirely improvised. Everyone has the freedom to suggest ideas, and we try them out. It’s all about connection and feeling, understanding each other. Without it, nothing will happen. We aim to make it feel natural, like a flow. Sometimes, it’s not about a specific thing or timbre; it’s about the energy -and we see how it fits together. All the vocalists are very different: Amazing Phoebe Osborne, singer, facilitator, and improviser; Claudia Marques, singer, who brings very soft warm sounds to Pascol; Natalia Gabrielczyk, an incredible dancer in Theatre of Dreams by Hofesh Shechter; and Vera Raskina, singer and songwriter, storyteller. We are very different but it sounds great. Also, my old friend, creative producer Alina Golubeva (Random Drama) helps us connect the dots, organise the events, and take care of everything that comes with them.

People come, sit down, and we begin with an introduction in a certain way. Then, we give instructions and invite everyone to share their stories. When you attend a Pascol performance, you don’t necessarily have to share your story; you can simply listen and decide later if you want to participate. I’ve noticed that, at the start, there is usually just one hand raised, but by the end, there are seven or eight. However, by that point, we often don't have enough time to sing all the stories. We usually tell seven stories in one performance. People get really inspired by others’ stories and suddenly find themselves in a mood to share.

We love the space; it’s so beautiful and special. Originally built in 1888 by architect James Cubitt, it served as a Presbyterian church until 1982. The Welsh community used it as a spiritual shelter to connect with their culture and roots, meeting friends and family. I think it’s very symbolic that now it is used for another kind of connection—connection through art. We are very honoured to perform there. We are also incredibly grateful for the support of the We Exist! Foundation, who were impressed by our first performance in London and have since become our partners.

We are really excited. We have a new participant, and it will be a new experience for us as a group. I try to slow down and allow the time to flow.

Well, first of all, the space will be very special this time. Usually, we perform in a small theatre, so I imagine the feeling will be different. We’re also thrilled to have a special guest: Namvula Rennie, who will be singing with us. Namvula is a remarkable artist, singer, and songwriter, known for blending traditional Zambian music with jazz, folk, and pop, she has a unique ability to fuse world music styles with emotional depth. This will be our first time performing together, and I’m really curious and excited to see how our collaboration unfolds.

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I hope we will have more shows with Pascol, and maybe even not just in London. My dream is to create a story album with recordings. It could have a strong social focus, drawing attention to people who are often unseen in our everyday lives. After all, that’s the purpose of art—it brings things into the spotlight.