#5 - A Conversation with Eydís Evensen
Introduction
This interview is part of The Sonic Atelier – Conversations with Contemporary Composers and Producers, a long-term project dedicated to exploring the evolving role of the composer in the twenty-first century. The series investigates how today’s creators inhabit hybrid identities at the intersection of composition, production, and performance, and how their artistic practices intertwine with technology, aesthetics, and the changing dynamics of the music industry.
In this conversation we meet Eydís Evensen, Icelandic composer and pianist, whose music is deeply rooted in the landscapes and atmospheres of her homeland. Evensen’s artistic voice merges classical training with a strong sense of improvisation, drawing inspiration from minimalism, post-classical aesthetics, and the immediacy of live performance. Her work embraces both tradition and experimentation, moving seamlessly between solo piano writing, choral textures, electronic sound design, and film scoring.
Over the course of the interview, Evensen reflects on the hybrid role of the composer today and the interplay between composition, production, and performance in her own practice. She retraces the influences that have shaped her language, from Icelandic nature to the music of Philip Glass, Arvo Pärt, and Nils Frahm, while also discussing her first experiences in scoring for film and her views on technology, collaboration, and the challenges posed by AI to the artistic community.
Her reflections provide a vivid portrait of a composer who navigates between intimacy and scale, between tradition and innovation, offering insight into what it means to create music in a constantly transforming artistic and cultural landscape.
Date of interview: 7 August 2025
Question: Do you identify with the hybrid figure of composer, producer, and performer? How do these three dimensions coexist in your musical practices?
Eydís Evensen: Absolutely. For me, these three dimensions are deeply connected, and they constantly feed into one another. Composing doesn’t only happen in the studio, it can also emerge while I’m on tour, performing. When you’re traveling, outside your comfort zone, you’re confronted with new experiences, and that often sparks a different kind of creativity.
At home, in the studio, the process is more about producing, recording, shaping ideas in a controlled environment. On the road, it’s about being challenged by the journey itself, something unexpected might come out of that, and I embrace it.
Sometimes inspiration strikes from the smallest things: just last night, for example, I was moved by a text someone wrote, and it immediately triggered ideas for the future. So there’s always this interplay between composing, producing, and performing.
At the same time, I try to allow myself to fully inhabit each phase. When I’m performing, I might get inspired and compose, but I also try to stay present in the act of performing. When I’m in the studio, I focus on recording and production. For me it’s about finding balance, being open to future ideas, while also giving myself permission to remain in the moment.
Question: What influences do you feel are most deeply rooted in your language? Are there composers, sound aesthetics, or even musical experiences that have shaped your way of thinking and writing music?
Eydís Evensen: My biggest source of inspiration is undoubtedly Icelandic nature. I always return to the present moment, rewinding in my mind to landscapes that moved me when I was a child in Iceland. That connection to place is fundamental, it shapes not only my music, but also the emotional state from which I allow myself to improvise.
In terms of artists, Nils Frahm has been a major influence. His way of improvising, both on stage and in the studio, is incredibly inspiring to me because it breaks boundaries, he creates something entirely new in the moment. Watching that process taught me a lot about flow: visiting past memories or visions in your mind, channeling them into the present, and asking yourself, how do I feel today?
Sometimes, if you don’t have the answer, you just start to play, and the piano tells you how you’re feeling. So for me it’s a combination of nature, memory, and the conscious state of being present, with improvisation, especially as I’ve seen it in Frahm’s work, as a guiding force.
Question: You also studied classical music. Are there composers from the past who feel close to your world?
Eydís Evensen: Yes. During my studies I specialized mainly in the Classical and Romantic eras, with a touch of Expressionism. I’ve always loved Debussy and Ravel, their textures and the way their music unfolds so freely, almost unpredictably, is incredibly beautiful to me.
At the same time, I was also immersed in the strictness of classical forms, the A–B--A–B--A into C structures. So it was a mix of very different influences, from formal precision to the more fluid, impressionistic language of Debussy and Ravel. In short, there’s a lot from that tradition that has stayed with me.
Question: Have you ever composed music for images, or would you like to? If so, how would you approach this kind of writing compared to your non-filmic music? Do you think the visual context would change your way of shaping sound and form?
Eydís Evensen: Definitely. Earlier this year, in January, I worked on my very first score: an Icelandic two-part documentary called Útkall (Rescue). It tells a true story through a mix of reenactments and interviews with the people who were directly involved in a tragic accident and rescue mission on Iceland’s glaciers. Three jeeps were crossing the ice when one of them fell into a massive crevasse, about thirty meters deep. One person lost their life, another survived, and the film explores both the rescue and its impact on the families and the wider community.
This project felt very close to home for me. My mother is a surgical nurse at the main hospital in Reykjavík, and my father used to be a volunteer with Iceland’s National Rescue Team in the North of Iceland, he would go out in the middle of the night to help people in these extreme situations. So composing music for this documentary was more than just a commission; it became personal. Of course, it’s very different from writing my own pieces at home, where I might start with a feeling or a fleeting notion and let it flow into music. Here, the task was to capture and amplify the emotions of people actually living through these experiences, while also weaving in my own personal connection to the story.
I composed most of the score with the Osmose by Expressive E, an incredible synthesizer, and worked in Ableton Live for the first time on my own. I ended up recording over sixty tracks, layering textures and sound worlds. It was a magical process, and it made me realize: this is exactly where I want to go.
Now I’m about to start working on a short Icelandic film, and hopefully later this year I’ll move on to a TV series. What I love most is the collaboration, the marriage between director and composer. When you write for yourself, you’re telling your own story. In film, you’re telling a story together. I worked with director Daníel Bjarnason, who specializes in true stories and documentaries, and his honesty deeply shaped the process. Being part of that dialogue, helping to sculpt the emotional arc through the edit and the music, opened up a whole new world for me. It’s incredibly exciting.
Question: Where does a piece usually begin for you, with a melody, a sonic texture, an abstract emotion, or an image?
Eydís Evensen: In recent years, it has always been different. There’s no set formula for me. Sometimes it starts with words, like a sentence that suddenly comes into my head without me even planning to write. That single line can spark a whole piece, telling a very specific story or emotion.
Other times it comes from a place or a moment in nature. For example, one of the new works on my upcoming album is a choir piece called Friðarglymur (The Echo of Peace), which is about the idea that humanity must unite when everything around us seems to be falling apart. The main melody didn’t come from the text, but while I was hiking at Glymur, the tallest waterfall in Iceland. Standing in the middle of a river on that hike, I suddenly heard the melody in my head. I thought, where did that come from? and quickly recorded it before it disappeared.
And then, of course, there are times when I simply sit at the piano. I’ll hit record on my phone and play for fifteen minutes. A week later, I’ll listen back and think: maybe this little fragment has potential. From there, I start developing it.
So yes, sometimes it’s a melody, sometimes an image, sometimes even a single word. It’s always different, and that’s what keeps the process alive for me.
Question: What is your relationship with music technology? For example, what role does the DAW play in your creative process? Is it a compositional space in itself, or mainly a tool to finalize ideas born elsewhere?
Eydís Evensen: For me it’s both a tool and a way of composing. Usually, once I’ve sketched an initial structure, maybe something I’ve recorded, I bring it into the DAW and start adding elements. At first it feels like a tool, but as I begin layering textures, mixing, and shaping the sound, new ideas often emerge. It becomes a compositional space in its own right.
That’s something I really discovered while working on the film score. I’ve never considered myself a technical person, I’ve always written my music on paper or simply recorded it on my phone. Until recently I didn’t use software at all. But about six months ago I learned how to work with Ableton Live, and it opened up a whole new world for me.
So now I’d say it’s both: still a tool, but also a space where I can actually compose and experiment. Being in the studio and opening up those possibilities feels like stepping into a completely new universe.
Question: Do you also take care of the mixing process?
Eydís Evensen: Definitely. I’m very hands-on when it comes to mixing, even though I haven’t formally learned how to do it myself. My producer, Valgeir Sigurðsson, has worked on all the music I’ve released as well as my first film score, and our collaboration is wonderful. I always come in with a very clear vision of how I want something to sound, and I’m able to articulate that to him. He then translates those ideas into the mix with incredible precision. So while I’m not the one turning the knobs, I’m deeply involved in shaping the final result.
Question: Do you consider production, such as timing choices, mixing, or sound design, as a separate phase from composition, or as an integral part of your compositional thinking?
Eydís Evensen: For me it’s absolutely part of the creative process. When I’m working with Valgeir, for example, I might start by recording something on the piano, and then we decide whether to develop it further in his studio or elsewhere. From there, we begin shaping the piece, listening back, layering textures, experimenting with ideas.
Even if we try something that doesn’t work out, it’s still valuable because it all happens within the same creative headspace. I don’t see recording, mixing, or sound design as separate steps after composition; they’re fully integrated into the moment of creating. That integration is very important to me.
Question: How do you communicate with your producer when you have a specific sonic quality in mind, especially when it’s difficult to articulate? Do you have a personal method to translate this into technical instructions?
Eydís Evensen: The beauty of working with Valgeir is that he understands me in ways I don’t always need to express, which is rare. We actually come from the same hometown, a tiny little place called Blönduós, and I think that shared background creates a kind of unspoken connection between us.
Often I’ll describe things in emotional terms, like saying, let’s make this part warmer, more flowing, more in a state of emotion. He immediately knows what I mean and translates it into the technical side. That sensitivity is what makes our collaboration so special.
Of course, there are moments when I’ll suggest something more concrete, like: I’ve recorded piano and strings, but let’s also try adding a synth. And he’ll respond right away: yes, let’s try it that way. It’s always a real conversation, built on mutual trust. That’s what makes working with Valgeir fantastic.
Question: Have you ever thought about spatialization in formats like Dolby Atmos as an extension of your compositional language? Do you feel it’s close to your world?
Eydís Evensen: So far, my music has never been mixed in Dolby Atmos during the creative process. It usually happens afterwards, once I’ve approved the stereo master, it’s then adapted for Atmos. Of course, when you listen back in that format it creates a completely different sonic resonance, which I find fascinating.
I’d really love to experience it directly in the studio, to compose and produce while already thinking in Atmos, but I haven’t had that opportunity yet. Up until now, my focus has always been on the regular stereo or vinyl master.
There are currently only three Dolby Atmos mixing studio in Reykjavík, and they are most of the time booked for months ahead, which can make the process tricky when you’re working with multiple deadlines. But I’m very curious, and I hope soon I’ll be able to dive into it and explore what it could mean for my music.
Question: What do you think about minimalism in music? Is it something you feel close to in your work?
Eydís Evensen: It really varies from piece to piece. In general, I find minimalism beautiful because sometimes less is more. You don’t always need to fill the sound or occupy every space, sometimes a simple motif or a single line of notation can say everything you want to express. I love that state of flow that comes from working with very simple ideas.
At the same time, I also enjoy creating multi-layered choral works, which are almost the opposite of minimalism. So for me it depends on the context. But I do love returning to minimalism every now and then, it has a purity that feels very powerful.
Question: Do you feel connected to the tradition of musical minimalism from the past—for example, to composers like Philip Glass, Arvo Pärt, or Steve Reich?
Eydís Evensen: Definitely. Arvo Pärt’s work is incredible, and Philip Glass has been a massive inspiration for me. His piano preludes are beautiful, but I think his most substantial work is the film score Koyaanisqatsi, it’s one of my absolute favorites.
When I first saw the film, I was completely blown away. Until then, I had mostly associated Glass with his piano works, and suddenly this whole other world opened up for me. It was transformative.
And of course, Steve Reich as well, his music is extraordinary. We are so lucky to have this body of work to be inspired by; it’s amazing that it was created then and continues to resonate so strongly today.
Question: What do you think about labels such as “modern classical” or “neoclassical”? Do you feel these terms are close to your artistic world?
Eydís Evensen: Definitely. I think they relate 100% to a different way of thinking, a different extension of classical music, almost like another arm or branch of the tradition. If you look at pioneers like John Adams or Philip Glass, for example, they opened up this path that feels very fitting to what we now call “neoclassical.”
Of course, it’s also a very broad umbrella. Some people are very opinionated about labels, whether it should be called neoclassical, modern classical, ambient, or something else entirely. Personally, I don’t mind. For me, it’s simply a broad and flexible term that can cover many different approaches. In that sense, I think it works perfectly.
Question: How do you see the current state of contemporary music, especially instrumental and experimental? Does it feel like a moment of transformation or more of continuity?
Eydís Evensen: I would say it’s both, a moment of transformation and of continuation. Contemporary music contains elements of each. On one hand, you have minimalist approaches, very simple gestures, like a string arrangement that can be incredibly effective while remaining extremely minimal. That simplicity can itself be transformative.
At the same time, there are artists who are highly experimental, pushing boundaries in their own unique ways. So it really varies from composer to composer. But overall, within the wide umbrella of contemporary music, I feel it embodies both: a continuation of certain traditions and an ongoing transformation.
Question: What direction do you hope for in the future of music and the artistic world?
Eydís Evensen: Above all, I hope for independence, and for a sense of community that allows us to stand together, especially in the face of challenges like AI. We need to unite. I believe every government should adopt clear legislation, as the UK has started doing, to protect artists’ copyrights against AI misuse. Artists must feel that their work and their role are still vital.
Sometimes I hear young people say, AI is going to take over anyway, so why bother? But that’s not the case, there are so many opportunities to push back, to defend creativity. I think concerts will play an essential role in this: live music, cultural events, screenings of independent films, theater, ballet and orchestral performances. These are experiences that technology can never replace, because they touch the soul in a way nothing else can.
So my hope is for more funding in the arts, more legal protection, and stronger networks of support. In the end, it’s about building a community where artists can thrive and continue to create meaning for humanity.
Question: Imagine you are scoring a scene where a figure walks across a snowy landscape. Where would you begin, what material, what compositional gesture, what production technique?
Eydís Evensen: The very first thing I hear when I picture this scene is the wind, the howling wind. The question is how to translate that into musical elements. Could it be woodwinds? Or perhaps the sound of the wind itself, gradually transforming into an icy arrangement for string quartet? Maybe even a solo violin playing over that backdrop. There are so many possible directions, and I always like to explore them.
Whether I’d use high or low registers would really depend on the visual mood. If the scene shows a bright winter’s day, minus ten degrees but with sunlight sparkling on the snow, I imagine something high and crystalline, a piece full of clarity. But if it’s a storm, with snow falling heavily and the wind howling, then I’d go for darker tones, closer, drier sounds.
In either case, I’d want the music to feel crisp and cold, almost like icy needles cutting through the air, airy, windy, sharp. That’s where I would begin.
Acknowledgements
I warmly thank Eydís Evensen for generously sharing his time, reflections, and creative process. His openness has been essential in shaping this conversation within The Sonic Atelier - Conversations with Contemporary Composers and Producers.
By Francesca Guccione