WITH MATHIEU KARSENTI

London, 2026​

During this interview, I swap seats with another artist and ask the questions I wish I were asked. Today, I meet Franco-British composer Mathieu Karsenti following the release of When the Hummingbird Stops.

Mathieu, what has been happening for you recently?

When we spoke last year, I had just relocated to South of France, back to where it all started for me. It has been a great year of reconnecting with old friends, family and places of interest, nature etc. I also have a bigger space now to settle things and really paint more and more as well as compose new projects without having to up-and-go half way across the world — for a while at least! One thing I realised is that I did not need to be in a big city anymore in order to do what I do, people can find me where I am and that is great. Living in a place that is more conducive to your creative life is crucial and I am grateful for that. Work-wise I will delve into this further in your next questions, but basically I have now finished composing two new albums! I am more and more aware of the shortness and the gift of life that I want to make the most of my time here to create as much music and art as possible.

Tell us about your latest release, When the Hummingbird Stops?

After a three-year adventure living and working in Los Angeles, I took the hummingbird — an endemic species of California — as a direct source of inspiration. In these crazy times, like the hummingbird, we are always busy and always switched on. But what happens when the hummingbird stops? What do you see, and how do you feel? “When The Hummingbird Stops” is a poetic pause in time — a break from the day-to-day to take stock and simply observe life going by. I wanted to capture where I was at in my head at that time, reflecting on change, the impermanence of life and how things can shift one way or another. 

You often approach your works with unusual instrumentation, When the Hummingbird Stops is a work for three violins; tell us about that.

I had already explored that combination, the violin trio, in my previous release ‘Mirages’ and I had some ideas leftover from that exploration. One of them seemed to stand out and felt like it was begging to be re-recorded with my violinist Helena Maria Falk. When we recorded Mirages in Los Angeles, I was amazed by Helena’s sensitivity, artistry and attention to detail. My compositions are often seemingly simple but they are very exposed - I believe that sometimes a single, lingering melody can say so much more than a bunch of notes. In both projects, Helena captured the right mood, adding just enough vibrato but keeping the ‘drama’ in check. It’s about conveying a mood, an atmosphere. The challenge when writing for violin is that its range is not as wide as say a cello and so you have to convey the emotion differently. The three melody lines moved together as well as independently. They complement each other without one of them saying: listen to me! It’s a format that works for me and it allows me to explore textures, techniques and dynamics differently. Three is also a good balance of voices.

How do you develop your body of work overtime — do you keep a bigger picture in mind, connecting each project one after the other?

When you consider my body of work, there is variety in what instrument I compose for: solo piano, piano four hands, string quartet, solo cello, accompanied cello or violin, violin trio, strings and percussion, collage, woodwinds, guitar etc. I never want to stay within one lane because artistically I have so much to express. I also thought years ago that if I considered myself a composer, I should be able to compose for all instruments. Through working on film and TV projects, I certainly was able to explore and produce results that worked and that are playable by a musician. So to answer your question, the bigger picture is about expressing myself, whatever it takes. The projects are connected in that it is my composing voice throughout but I am mostly guided by my instinct and what I would like to explore next, or what I am ready to explore.

What are some of the most exciting projects you have not started yet?

This joins the last sentence from the previous question because this year I felt ready and eager to compose for solo cello. I had worked with Tristan Horne on my Cello Prayers in 2017 and I hired him a few times on film scores so I was keen to work with him again on a new project. I love his open-minded and flexible approach and of course his sensibility and expressiveness when it comes to my work. So I opened the “solo cello can of worms”! There are so many wonderful pieces from Bach being the obvious one to Tavener, Vasks, Britten or Glass, that it can be daunting to even consider composing for that instrument unaccompanied. But I put aside that pressure and decided to do my thing and find something in there that resonated. The range of the cello and its soul is what fascinated me and I found results I was happy with. So in essence, this project is in the works but most of the composing is done.

Reflect on your change of focus as an artist, and how you move from period to period.

I touched on this earlier. It is purely based on how I feel at the time and what I am influenced by. For instance, I might delve into string quartet music and decide I want to record that configuration again. Or I might explore more solo piano ideas. It really depends on what needs to come through. Because I am an independent artist, I have the luxury to record and release as much as I want and in whatever instrumentation that I want and that freedom is what I am keen to keep. Sometimes, I feel like exploring more ambient ideas, sometimes it is a solo instrument! My focus as an artist has largely not changed really. When I listen back to my earlier releases, I still stand by them. I definitely recognise myself in them and that is important to me. Musically, it does not matter where I experiment, I still have to feel something. If I explore dissonant stuff, it still has to have a purpose to me and make me feel or imagine something. At other times, I feel more melodic and less abstract. With age, ideas form quicker and easier than before and I am able to be bolder with my choice of instruments or the direction I want to go in.

So after When the Hummingbird Stops what’s next?

Well, the catalogue is building at a steady pace with plenty of new works waiting to be recorded. A while back, I started compiling a few solo piano ideas and bit by bit I have ended up with thirty tracks, then forty, then fifty. I decided to stop there and to keep reviewing them, tweaking and improving them over time. I also have a project for cello and piano which I am really excited about and itching to record. There is another violin trio that is ready to go and I just completed two new albums of collages. It is just a matter of deciding what I think I should release next. So there will be a few surprises!

Thanks very much Mathieu. As usual, a last one for the road — one book, one album, one film —, tell us about your latest cultural findings?

One book: my fascination for Japanese culture knows no bounds and recently I picked up two beautiful books of paintings from master artists of the Edo period. Specifically, one deals with ghosts and folklore and the other one with Samurais. The way scenes are depicted in incredible detail inspired me to paint some new series — all will be revealed in due course! One album: Not just one but a discography. I recently delved into The Cure’s back catalogue. I used to listen to them as a teenager who did not fit in the world around me and they were perfect for that. Re-discovering them, I found their songs amazing, so individual, so unlike anything else and Robert Smith still sounds like the same talented young man he once was! One film: Hayao Miyazaki and The Heron. This is a wonderful deep-dive into Miyazaki’s latest and potentially his ultimate film. It explains a lot about his vision of life, work and death. It is very moving as we see the boundaries of his life blurring with his dreams, visions and his work.

Bouncing on Karsenti’s words, When the Hummingbird Stops emerges as an invitation to embrace stillness; a quiet reflection on change, impermanence and the spaces between movement, where the composer's increasingly distinctive musical voice continues to unfold. Read my review of When the Hummingbird Stops.