Uršula Jašovec

If January was about the magic of a winter fairytale, February was a testament to the sheer will of a creator.

This month, my symphonic piece "Noa" was performed at the Slovenian Philharmonic in Ljubljana as part of the Slovenski skladatelji mladim concert series, conducted by Simon Dvoršak. It was a monumental milestone, but the story of how that score came to be is one I haven’t shared until now.

The "Mama Brain" Challenge
I received the invitation to write this piece in June, just days after giving birth. In the haze of the summer heat and "mama brain," I was so honored that I immediately said yes. I didn't yet realize how much my creative process was about to change.
Normally, my ideas are born on long walks where I sing melodies to myself in the open air. But as a new mother, those long walks were replaced by the immediate needs of a baby. With my husband doing his absolute best to support me, I had to find a new way to work. Writing a 12-minute piece for a full symphonic orchestra while mostly alone with a newborn was, quite frankly, a miracle.

Technical Hurdles and Quiet Victories
The universe seemed to test my resolve at every turn:
• The Score: I had to compose fast, often in the tiny windows of silence between my son's cries.
• The Computer: My laptop, unused since the birth, decided its battery was finished exactly when I needed to transcribe my handwritten sketches.
• The Software: To top it off, my notation license expired, forcing me to navigate tech support and new purchases while exhausted.
I had to turn the final score in by October. In those rare moments when I could find a small space for myself to write, I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness and contentment. It was my anchor.

The Performance
Seeing the piece come to life under Simon Dvoršak’s baton was emotional. A highlight was the interactive element where the conductor invited the audience in—watching the children participate turned the hall into a space of pure joy.

I know there is always room for improvement, but I am deeply proud that I managed to do it. "Noa" is proof that even when the battery dies and the baby cries, the music finds a way out.

My mother originally signed me up for ballet because, according to her, I walked like a duck with my feet turned inward. Little did she know that those classes would spark a love for an art form that would stay with me for over 15 years. As a girl, ballet was my sanctuary—a place to relax, focus, and be myself. I would often hear new music in my head and visualize choreography.
Back then, I never imagined I would one day be the one writing the music for the stage.

One of the most fulfilling roles of my career was serving as a ballet accompanist. While life’s path eventually led me toward composition, that deep physical understanding of dance has shaped my work. This January, that journey reached a new milestone: the premiere of my 4th ballet.

The Magic of "Zimska baletna pravljica"
While my first ballet taught me to stand up for myself as an artist, and my second and third allowed me to advocate for nature and conservation, this 4th production felt like a return to pure wonder.

The story follows Miia, a girl watching snowflakes fall from her window. She sees the Snow Queen and a Little Prince, who take her to a ballet school where she learns that with effort and a little magic, she too can dance beautifully. It is a story about the dreams of what can be.

Composing in a New Rhythm
Interestingly, this was the fastest I have ever written a score. Much of the music came to life while I was resting or breastfeeding my newborn son. The melodies would form in my mind during those quiet moments of connection, proving that creativity doesn't stop for motherhood—it simply finds a new tempo.

We all need a little magic in our lives from time to time, and seeing these dancers bring my "nursery-born" melodies to life was the perfect start to 2026.

They say that as a composer, your works are your children. But in June 2025, I experienced the literal and musical version of that sentiment all at once.

The Performance I Missed
I was supposed to be on stage at the Studenec Open Summer Theatre for the 10th-anniversary gala of the Radomlje musical productions. I was slated to perform as a soloist, singing two of my favorite pieces from my time in Cinderella and The Sound of Music.
While the ensemble was on stage singing "Climb Ev’ry Mountain" and "Impossible; It's Quite Possible," I was back home, quite literally climbing my own mountain. That night, I did the "impossible" and gave birth to my beautiful son. Instead of hitting high notes in the open-air theater, I was welcoming a new life into the world.

The Premiere in Novo Mesto
Just a few days later, on June 5, 2025, another "birth" took place at the Kozina Hall in Novo mesto. My new composition, "AVES," was premiered during the Noč slovenskih skladateljev (Night of Slovenian Composers).
Because of my new arrival, I couldn’t be there in person to hear the Ansambel za sodobno glasbo MD7 bring it to life. While I would have loved to hear the ensemble—featuring Matej Zupan, Jože Kotar, Franci Krevh, Luca Ferrini, Maja Rome, and Igor Mitrović—perform it, you simply cannot force nature.

About "AVES" (Program Note)
I wrote this piece as a deeply personal farewell and a new beginning. Here is what I wrote about its inspiration:
"I wrote the piece AVES upon the death of my grandmother at the end of last year, just before my birthday. My grandmother loved singing and nature. Her father used to say, when someone sang beautifully, that they sang as beautifully as a 'thrush' (drouz). For inspiration, I took bird singing, which begins the piece, and later derived a melody from that motive, like a sort of 'Ave Maria'—a greeting and my way of saying goodbye to her."

The Circle of Life
There is a strange, beautiful symmetry in this. AVES was written to honor the passing of my grandmother. It was premiered just as I was celebrating the arrival of my son.

In the end, the music served as the bridge between them—a melody born from the memory of one generation to welcome the next.

In my career as a composer, I’ve sat in plenty of professional studios—RTV, ARS, and various magazine offices. But if you really want to know what I think about music, don't put me under a spotlight. Put me in a field of corn or on my own living room sofa.

The Interview I Didn't Know I Was Giving
Years ago, the musicologist Neža asked to interview me. I told her that as a child, I loved walking through cornfields—the sound of the stalks, the hidden paths, the quiet. She simply said, "Then that's where we should go."
We walked and talked for what felt like a random, beautiful afternoon. I spoke freely, without the "filter" we usually put on when a microphone is present. It wasn't until we reached the end that she revealed she had been recording the whole time.
"Are you okay with me publishing this?" she asked.
I’m so glad I said yes. To this day, I don't think any studio session could outdo the honesty of that walk. It wasn't a "performance" of a composer; it was just me.

The Couch Session: A Deep Dive into the Score
More recently, I had a very different, but equally profound experience in the coziness of my own home. I was a guest for the Inštitut Abeceda series, and the interviewer arrived with a level of preparation that took my breath away.
She hadn't just "skimmed" my bio. She had lived with my musical scores and recordings. We sat on my couch and stayed there for a long time—if there hadn't been a time limit, we might still be talking now!
It was more than an interview; it was a mirror. Her questions made me stop and reflect on my own composition style in ways I hadn't articulated before. I think what Inštitut Abeceda is doing is incredibly precious. They give composers and performers a space to share their thinking, not just their finished products.

Why the "Setting" Matters
As a composer, my work is often solitary. When someone takes the time to meet me in my own world—whether that's a childhood memory or my living room—the conversation changes. It stops being about "career highlights" and starts being about the why behind the notes.

October was a month of two extremes for me as a composer. It began in a cozy, quiet room where words were everything, and it ended on a grand stage where music became movement.

Part I: The Warmth of "Utrip stihov"
There is a specific kind of magic that happens when you strip everything away except poetry and a few notes. I recently had the joy of collaborating with the young poet Maja Podgoršek for the presentation of her book, Utrip stihov (The Pulse of Verses).
What made this evening truly special was my "partner in crime" on stage—a dear old friend and a brilliant violinist from the Slovenian Philharmonic. We haven't played together in years, but as we began to weave music around Maja’s poems, that old connection felt as fresh as ever.
I haven’t felt that level of "cosiness" and warmth at an event in a long time. Listening to Maja’s words when I wasn't playing made me reminiscent; her work has a way of leaving a lasting impact, reminding us why we turn to art to capture life's small, pulsing moments.

Part II: Five Years of Movement with Baletna šola Ana
From that intimate literary evening, the energy shifted to the grand stage of Dom kulture Kamnik. We were celebrating the 5th Anniversary of Baletna šola Ana.

I have been collaborating with Ana since the school’s beginning in 2019. It is a rare and beautiful thing for a composer to find a partner who trusts your vision so completely. Over these five years, we have brought three original ballets to life.

Seeing my music used as the heartbeat for this anniversary celebration was a moment of immense pride. Watching the dancers—some of whom I've seen grow from children into stunning performers—move to my scores was a powerful reminder of how music can travel from a solitary desk to a stage full of life.

The Reflection
Whether it’s the rhythm of a spoken verse or the rhythm of a dancer’s leap, the goal is the same: to make the audience feel. I’m heading into late 2026 with a full heart and a pen ready for the next challenge.

In 2023, I stepped into a role that was both a great honor and a heavy burden: taking over the children’s choir at the Music Conservatory in Ljubljana. We began with only a handful of singers, and I knew my task was to build a sound, a voicing, and a culture of determination from the ground up.

A Milestone Celebration: 10 Years of Voice (2025)
One of the most significant moments of my tenure was leading the 10th Anniversary Concert of the choir in 2025. I designed the evening as a thematic journey that connected the choir’s past to its present. We honored all previous conductors, and I invited alumni—former singers who are now accomplished musicians—to return and perform as soloists alongside our current choir. It was a massive event that celebrated a decade of musical lineage, and you can still find the story of that night featured on the Conservatory's website.

Building a Legacy in Ljubljana
Throughout my time there, I used the choir as a "living laboratory." It was a privilege to have the children perform world premieres of several of my pieces. We proved what determined children can achieve across many stages:
• Modern Voices: Presenting new works at the ŽivŽav event, first performed pieces written by Katarina Pustinek Rakar.
• Sacred Spaces: Performing my own compositions at St. James’s Church (Šentjakobska cerkev) alongside Ambrož Čopi.
• Festival Stages: Opening the Srečanje mladinskih zborov in Celje and performing at the Pomladna prepevanja festival.
• Orchestral Power: Recording with the brass section of the Slovenian Philharmonic and performing with a full string and wind orchestra.

By 2024, the choir had grown to 30 singers. We were accepted into a major competition, but because of the timing of my maternity leave, the law prevented me from conducting. Since no one else felt brave enough to step in, that year of preparation simply dissolved. It was heartbreaking, but it didn't take away from the growth we achieved.

Small Voices, Big Hearts: GŠ Franca Šturma
In that same year, I took over a new choir at GŠ Franca Šturma. Though the group was smaller, their dedication was immense. By the end of the year, these children were singing beautiful three-part harmonies. They too premiered several of my works, bringing "little voices" to the most prestigious halls in Ljubljana:
• The historic Križanke.
• The Slovenian Philharmonic.
• The Betetova dvorana in the Kazina building (Academy of Music).
Watching them stand in those grand halls, singing with pride and precision, was the ultimate reward. I am so proud of how they grew into true artists.

The years 2024 and 2025 were a whirlwind of composition and conducting. While many of my new works were being performed by other ensembles across Slovenia, my heart was deeply invested in the journey of MePZ Cantemus, a choir I have had the joy of leading since 2021.

Broadening Our Horizons
Beyond our traditional repertoire, we spent this season exploring new musical languages. One of the absolute highlights was our collaboration with the a cappella gospel choir BeeGesus. Preparing a Gospel concert together was an incredible experience—it required a different kind of energy and rhythmic precision, and seeing our singers embrace that soulful "groove" was a joy. Alongside this, we kept our calendar full, performing at various festivals across the region and sharing our music with new audiences.

The Road to Bratislava
Our first major competitive milestone was the Sozvičenja festival in Škofja Loka—a beautiful platform for the choir to present itself. But the true test came when we traveled to Slovakia for Bratislava Cantat. There is a unique pride in taking our Slovenian folklore legacy abroad. The singers shared our heritage with such conviction that the jury awarded us a Golden Medal. Their positive feedback confirmed the growth I’ve seen in this group over the last six years.

A Test of Persistence
Our next challenge was the regional competition in Škofja Loka, and this preparation was different from any I had done before. I was balancing the technical demands of the score with the 24/7 reality of caring for my three-month-old baby.
I prepared the choir for this event with everything I had, despite the exhaustion that comes with early motherhood. Looking back, I realized that I didn't need to be a "drill sergeant" to get results; the connection and happiness we built in our rehearsals were enough. The singers rose to the occasion beautifully, and we were honored with another Golden Medal.

The Story of "Črni muc" (The Black Cat)
One of the pieces we performed during this journey was my own composition, Črni muc. Hearing my own singers bring this characterful piece to life on the competition stage was a highlight of the season. You can hear that performance and feel the energy of the choir on YouTube.

The Strength of the Journey
Looking back at these two years, I am reminded that "the more you do, the easier it gets"—even when "the more" includes a newborn and two major gold medals. I am so proud of how far Cantemus has come since 2020. We proved that with heart, a bit of gospel soul, and true persistence, we can achieve something truly golden.

Since 2013, it has been my immense privilege to be the conductor of the Female Choir Rozka Usenik. We often talk about the joy and the music, but in 2025, as we celebrated our 50th anniversary, I found myself reflecting deeply on the name we carry.

The Girl from Stanežiče
Our choir is named after Rozka Usenik, a young woman from Stanežiče whose life was cut tragically short during the Second World War. Rozka was more than just a local name; she was a symbol of courage who sacrificed her life during the occupation. By carrying her name, our singers don't just perform notes—they carry forward the memory of her spirit and the history of the village.
For 50 years, this choir has grown from a group of young enthusiasts into a seasoned, award-winning ensemble. We have recorded CDs and earned golden plaques at home and abroad, but at our core, we remain a community bound by the soil of Stanežiče and the legacy of Rozka.

From Šentvid to the Competition Stage
Our anniversary year in 2025 was filled with moments of connection. We gathered at the annual Šentvid Festival, a beautiful tradition where choirs from every "Šentvid" in Slovenia reunite. It felt like a massive family gathering, a "cozy" reminder of our shared roots.
That warmth carried us into the Ljubljana Choir Competition, where the positive feedback from conductor Helena Fojkar Zupančič gave my singers the perfect momentum. It prepared them for the most significant honor in our choir's history.

A Triumph at Ljubljana Castle
The pinnacle of our 50th year took place at Ljubljanski grad. In a room filled with Slovenia's most respected artists and leaders, the Municipality of Ljubljana presented our choir with a prestigious award.
Standing on that stage alongside luminaries like the legendary actress Milena Zupančič and the former President of Slovenia, Danilo Türk, was a profound honor. To see our choir—named for a brave girl from their village—recognized at the same event as such monumental figures was a moment of pure triumph.

The Heartbeat of the Choir
We finished our singing year with a beautiful 50th anniversary concert that I will remember for a long time. Through the ups and downs of the last decade, it is the spirit and the "fun" of these women that has held me up. We are more than a choir; we are a living bridge between the sacrifice of the past and the music of the future.

Some of my favorite musical memories aren't about the pressure of a deadline, but the quiet joy of the process.

When I was asked to arrange "Lepa Anka" and "Igraj kolo" for a performance in Bela Krajina, I found myself in a state of perfect calm. I remember sitting at my friend’s kitchen table, drafting the music while feeling completely content. The morning was very peaceful; we rehearsed the parts together with friends during breakfast, simply singing through the lines as we ate. There was a sense of ease in the room that I think stayed within the music itself.

The Heart of Bela Krajina
Bela Krajina is the home of these songs, so the stakes were naturally high. Performing "Lepa Anka" in its own birthplace is a delicate task. In our folk tradition, a simple melody often repeats for ten or more stanzas, and the real challenge is to keep the "story" alive so it never feels repetitive.
When we stood to perform, the energy in the hall was so warm that any nerves simply faded away. We focused on the narrative of the songs, and the connection with the audience was immediate.

The Ultimate Compliment
After the concert, many people came to congratulate us. Their words meant the world to me: they said the music felt alive, like they were listening to a story. For the people of Bela Krajina to feel that these arrangements captured the true spirit of their heritage was the highest praise I could have asked for.
From the Kitchen to the Philharmonic

It is a joy to see how this piece, born from such a peaceful morning, has traveled:
• Published by Astrum: It is now available for other choirs to share and explore.
• The Philharmonic Stage: Most recently, it was chosen for the final concert of the Ljubljana Music Schools United Choir.
• A Shared Moment: Seeing my fellow composer and conductor Tine Bec lead the choir through this piece at the Slovenian Philharmonic was a beautiful "full circle" moment.

It serves as a gentle reminder that when we create from a place of happiness and presence—even at a simple kitchen table—the music finds its own way to the most prestigious stages.

I often feel like just a small human being in a very big, changing world. I do what I can—I recycle, I live mindfully, and I teach my children and my students to respect the nature that surrounds us. But like many of you, I often look at what we have done to our environment and wish I could simply wave a magic wand to fix it. While I don’t have a wand, I do have music, and I believe art has the power to reach people where words fail.

The Heart of the Story: Folklore and the Environment
For me, the environment and our folklore are deeply connected; they are both part of the "soul" of our land that we must preserve. In my third ballet, Odčarani letni časi (The Disenchanted Seasons), I wanted to weave these two passions together. The story, beautifully written by Karolina Graj, follows a group of children who realize the natural world is losing its "magic." The seasons are out of balance—the snow doesn't fall when it should, and the flowers struggle to bloom because the natural cycle has been disrupted. By using my own musical voice to tell this story, I wanted to remind the audience that our heritage and our earth are treasures that require our protection.

A Total Work of Art
To make this vision truly mine, I stepped beyond the manuscript paper. I personally drew the posters and the background projections, ensuring that every visual detail reflected the "disenchanted" world I heard in the music. Bringing this world to the stage was a massive collaborative effort. Ana Trojnar’s choreography captured the tension between nature and destruction with incredible grace, while the dancers—from the seasoned professionals to the very smallest children—poured their entire souls into every movement.
A particularly proud moment was our performance at a major event in Domžale. For this occasion, I wrote a full orchestral version of the score so the music could be played live. Hearing the orchestra breathe life into the notes while the dancers moved under the projections I had drawn was a moment of pure, collaborative magic.

The Persistent Drop
There is a Latin saying: "Gutta cavat lapidem"—a drop hollows the stone, not by force, but by falling often. I know that one ballet cannot stop a global crisis, but art is my way of "falling often." If my music, Karolina's story, and the passion of those dancers reached even one person in that audience—if it made them look at a tree or a folk song with a bit more love the next morning—then we have achieved something. We are the drops of water, and together, we can eventually change the stone.

There are performances that stay with you because of the acoustics, and then there are performances that stay with you because of the purpose. Recently, I had the honor of contributing to a project that was as much about medicine and heart as it was about melody.

A Mission of Awareness

The project, titled Ovita zanjo (Wrapped for Her), was led by the remarkable Mateja Lasič—a woman who balances the precision of a surgeon with the soul of a pianist. Her goal was to raise vital awareness for patients battling cervical cancer.

A Note on the Cause: > Cervical cancer remains a significant health challenge, but with early screening (like the ZORA program in Slovenia) and HPV vaccination, it is one of the most preventable forms of cancer. Events like Ovita zanjo are crucial for breaking the silence and encouraging women to prioritize their health.

View from the Top

My role in this evening was behind the scenes and on the stage. I helped bring performers on board and prepared two special arrangements for our vocal group, Muze.

I have performed at Cankarjev dom many times in my career, but this evening felt different. We were the opening act, standing at the very top of a fully booked hall. When the lights hit us, looking out at a sea of people gathered not just for music, but for solidarity, the atmosphere was electric.

A Tapestry of Voices: The Heart of "Ovita zanjo"

The stage that night was a beautiful, crowded tapestry of Slovenian talent, all woven together by Mateja’s vision. While I was focused on the opening arrangements for our vocal group Muze, the energy in Cankarjev dom was amplified by an incredible lineup of artists. From the soulful harmonies of the Katrinas and the powerful presence of Nuška Drašček and Alenka Godec, to the instrumental mastery of Goce Stevkovski, Jaka Kopač, Anže Vrabec, and Blaž Jurjevčič, every note felt intentional. With Jani Hace and Žiga Kožar grounding the sound, and Mateja Lasič herself moving between the roles of surgeon and pianist, it felt less like a concert and more like a massive, melodic embrace. Standing there at the start of the evening, I realized we weren't just a sequence of acts; we were a single, harmonious 'wrap' of support for every woman in that room.

Music as a Shield

The name "Ovita zanjo" suggests being wrapped in support, and that is exactly how the music felt. As the voices of Muze filled the space, it felt like we were weaving a safety net of sound for every woman in that room.

Sometimes, as a composer and performer, you realize your work isn't just about the "fine line" of a composition—it’s about being a part of a much larger, life-saving conversation.

I have always loved the opera. There is something about the scale of it—the raw power of a human voice pushed to its limit, combined with the drama of the stage—that feels like the ultimate form of storytelling. But I also know that for many, especially children, "Opera" can feel like something distant, serious, or even a bit "stiff."
My mission for a recent workshop I led was simple: to break those walls down. I wanted to take this grand, complex genre and bring it close enough for children to touch, play with, and own.
The Workshop: Mali operni raziskovalci
I had the privilege of being the composer-leader for a workshop titled Mali operni raziskovalci (Little Opera Explorers). We gathered a group of children—from the very small to the teenagers—at the music school in Murska Sobota for a full day of discovery.
We didn’t just sit and talk about music; we dived into the "how" and "why" of the stage:
• The Power of Voice: We explored how an opera singer is heard without a microphone and how our own voices can change to tell a story.
• Emotions in Motion: We used games, dance, and instruments to show how joy, anger, or fear can be "painted" through movement and sound.
• The "Behind-the-Scenes" Magic: We learned that a production isn't just a singer—it’s a massive team effort involving puppets, scenography, lyrics, and music.
Building a World in a Day
It was a whirlwind of creativity. Together, we built a story from scratch. The kids made their own puppets and stenography, wrote their own music and lyrics, and practiced how to portray their characters.
They realized that to be heard in a big opera house, a singer needs more than just a loud voice; they need a big heart to portray what is happening. They saw that opera isn’t "old"—it’s a playground.
The Final Curtain
At the end of the day, our "Little Explorers" performed their creations for their parents. The applause was huge, but the look on the kids' faces was even bigger. They were completely intrigued, invested, and full of energy.
I headed home exhausted, but seeing that spark of curiosity made every ounce of effort worth it. If one of those kids walks into an opera house now and feels like they "belong" there, then we have truly succeeded.
A Question for You:
What was the first musical experience that made you feel like you truly "belonged" in the audience? Was it a concert, a teacher, or a moment of discovery? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments!

As composers, we spend most of our lives in a monologue—a private conversation between our thoughts and the manuscript paper. But every so often, someone asks us to turn that monologue into a dialogue.

A Moment with "Glasna"
Recently, I had the honor of being interviewed by Aleksandra Gartnar Kastelic for Glasna, Slovenia’s premier music magazine. There is something deeply grounding about sitting down with a reporter who truly understands the craft.
These conversations are more than just "press." For me, they are a rare chance to:
• Reflect: To look back at the milestones of 2024 and 2025 and realize just how much ground has been covered.
• Acknowledge Progress: To stop thinking about "what’s next" for a moment and appreciate what is.
• Speak Out Loud: To take those internal struggles—like finding the "fine line" in folk music—and give them a voice.

The Ghosts of Interviews Past
This session with Glasna made me think back to the many interviews I’ve done for RTV over the years. I remember those conversations being so precious, so full of the energy I had in those specific moments of my career.
But I have a small confession: I didn’t save them. At the time, I didn't think to record the broadcasts or screenshot the features. Now, I find myself wishing I had that "proof"—not for the sake of vanity, but to have a window into my own past. I want to hear how Uršula from five or ten years ago talked about music. Was she as nervous? What were her dreams then? How does her "then" compare to my "now"?

Capturing the Present
If there is one thing this interview for Glasna taught me, it’s that the archive is just as important as the endeavor. We are so busy building the future that we sometimes forget to save the sketches of who we used to be.
This time, I’m holding onto the record. Not just as a piece of "media," but as a marker of where I am today—before I move on to the next infinite idea.

The Day I Didn’t Recognize My Own Music

We composers spend so much time obsessing over every note that, eventually, we can lose the forest for the trees. But sometimes, if we are lucky, the music comes back to surprise us.

The Mystery Composer

In 2024, my piece Jmfi was selected as an obligatory piece for oboe at the TEMSIG competition. I remember sitting in the audience for a performance, not having a program in front of me. As the music began, I found myself completely swept away.

I thought to myself, "This is such a beautiful piece... it must be by some American composer." I was trying to scan my memory, wondering which of my pieces was coming up next, because none of the music I was hearing sounded like "mine."

When the realization finally hit that I was listening to Jmfi—the music I had labored over—it was both a shock and a delight. It was a rare moment where I could appreciate the music as a listener, free from the "baggage" of the composing process.

The First Breath: Žan and Božena

The life of Jmfi started with two people I trust deeply. The very first performance was by my talented friend, the oboist Žan Avbelj, and my former piano teacher, Božena Hrup.

There is something full-circle about having a former teacher bring your music to life. They were the ones who taught me the language of music, and now, they were helping me speak it.

The Ultimate Test

Having the piece picked for TEMSIG was a huge honor. There is a specific responsibility in writing an "obligatory piece." You aren't just writing for a concert; you are writing a hurdle for young musicians to clear. You are testing their technique, their breath, and their expression.

Looking back on that day in the audience, I realize that if I could confuse my own work for that of a "mysterious American composer," it meant the piece had taken on a life of its own. It didn't belong to my desk anymore; it belonged to the oboists now.

https://soundcloud.com/ursula-jasovec/jmfi-1?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Neskončnost: When the Music Never Truly Ends

There is a specific kind of "creative vertigo" that comes with a blank page—especially when that page is meant for two instruments you’ve never touched yourself.

For the Noč slovenskih skladateljev (Night of Slovene Composers) at Festival Ljubljana, I wrote a piece titled Neskončnost (Infinity) for harp and guitar. It was a project born of equal parts curiosity and, quite honestly, fear.

The Concept: Finding "Infinity" in Math and Music

The inspiration for this piece came from a feeling I think many of us share lately: the "infinity" of everything. The infinity of work, of thoughts, and that feeling that just when you think you can finally sit down and be still, something else comes along.

To translate this into sound, I turned to the infinite nature of parameters. I played with ideas stemming from physical and mathematical formulas:

• The Phrygian Scale: I used this as a harmonic base because its tonal center often feels like it has "no end."

• The Ending: I chose to end the piece with just one possibility out of the infinite thoughts that surfaced during the process.

The Struggle: Plucked vs. Plucked

Writing for harp and guitar is a unique challenge. They are both plucked instruments with colors that can bleed into one another. My mind was racing with questions:

• Should I stay classical or push into the contemporary?

• How do I blend them without them getting lost in each other?

• How do I write for instruments that seem so physically difficult to master?

I haven't played them, and at times, the technicality seemed daunting. But this was a vital lesson for me: The more you write, the easier it gets. You have to dive into the fear to find the music.

The Reward

Seeing the piece performed at the prestigious Festival Ljubljana was an incredible honor. The performers were spectacular—they took my "infinite" questions and turned them into a singular, beautiful reality.

The Reality Check: When the Pen Outruns the Fingers

"The truth? The performance wasn’t perfect.

But here is the 'Composer’s Confession': the imperfections weren't on the performers. They were on me.

In my pursuit of Neskončnost—of that mathematical infinity and the shimmering colors of the Phrygian scale—I wrote passages that were, quite simply, incredibly difficult to execute. When you are sitting at your desk, a flurry of plucked notes looks like a beautiful geometric pattern. In the concert hall, those same notes are a physical battle for the musicians.

I’m still learning how to write for the harp and the guitar. They are complex, sensitive machines, and I am still figuring out how to translate my 'infinite' ideas into their specific language.

This was my biggest lesson of the 2024 season: The more you write, the more you realize that a score isn't just a set of instructions—it's a relationship. Next time, I’ll find a better way to balance the 'Infinity' of the idea with the 'Finite' reality of the human hand. And that’s the beauty of this craft: you never stop being a student."

There is a famous painting by Saša Šantl that hangs on the wall of the Slovenian Philharmonic. It is a formal, dignified capture of our musical forefathers. For a long time, that was my mental image of "The Composer"—stately, silent, and framed in gold.
But history looks a little different when it’s being made in 2025.

The View from Above
To celebrate the 80th anniversary of the DSS (Society of Slovene Composers), we didn’t sit for a silent oil portrait. Instead, we gathered outside for a modern photoshoot—complete with a drone buzzing overhead like a giant mechanical insect.
There is something inherently funny about a group of composers, people who usually work in the quiet solitude of their own heads, trying to coordinate for a drone shot.

The "Composer Jokes" & Rare Moments
The best part of the day wasn't the camera itself; it was the rare chance to stand on the grass and talk. As composers, we are often "ships passing in the night," busy with our own commissions and premieres.
The photoshoot became a rare bridge. Between shots, the air was filled with:
• Catching up: Hearing about projects from colleagues I haven't seen in years.
• Composer Jokes: The kind of nerdy, technical humor that only another person who obsesses over a "fine line" in a score would understand.
• A Shared Mission: Acknowledging that while our styles are vastly different, we are all part of this 80-year-old living organism called the DSS.

A New Kind of Honor
As the drone soared up to capture us all from a bird's-eye view, I couldn't help but smile. It was a stark contrast to Šantl’s painting, but the feeling was the same: belonging. One of my pieces was performed as part of this anniversary season, but standing there, laughing with my peers, I realized that the music is only half the story. The other half is the community. We aren't just names on a program; we are a living, breathing, joking collective of creators.
What an honor to be in the frame—even if the "painter" this time was a remote-controlled drone!

Folk songs are the ghosts of our collective past, but they only stay alive if we keep singing them. This past year, I had the privilege of working on a project that felt like a deep dive into the roots of our identity: Pravljice in bajke v ljudski pesmi (Fairy Tales and Fables in Folk Song) with the Chamber Choir De profundis.

The Visionary Behind the Music
None of this would be possible without the conductor, Branka Potočnik Krajnik. She is the heart and soul of these projects. Branka spends an incredible amount of time and effort scouring archives to find ancient, lost melodies that have nearly slipped through the cracks of history.
She doesn’t just want to "save" these songs; she wants them to live again. By commissioning Slovenian composers to rework these themes, she creates a bridge between our ancestors and the modern stage. Her commitment to our local composing community is a rare and vital gift.

Walking the "Fine Line"
As a composer, my challenge was to find the delicate balance between two worlds:
1. The Creative Voice: I wanted to engage in a true dialogue with these folk themes—not just "arrange" them, but weave my own modern language into their DNA.
2. The Practical Reality: Choirs often have to master complex new repertoire at an incredible pace. I had to find that "fine line" where the music remains authentic and challenging, yet "singable" enough for the ensemble to embrace it quickly.

The Moment of Truth
Standing in the Pavšlar House atrium in Kranj, my heart was pounding the entire way through the performance. There is a specific kind of adrenaline that comes when you hear your voice merging with voices from centuries ago.
Seeing the choir perform so brilliantly—bringing those "lost" melodies into the light—reminded me why I do this. It isn’t just about the notes on the page; it’s about the heartbeat behind them.

How a twist of fate turned a trio into a creative duo at the Odsev-Napev competition.

The Art of the Pivot
Folk music has always been a pillar of my work as a composer and conductor. There is a raw, honest geometry in a folk tune that invites you to reshape it. So, when the opportunity arose to create new arrangements for the Odsev-Napev folk revival competition, I jumped at it.

However, life—as it often does—had other plans. Our original group of three was suddenly reduced to two due to illness and travel. But in music, constraints are often the mother of invention. My friend Martin joined me with his guitar, and we decided to embrace the challenge of the "minimalist" ensemble.

Two Voices, Two Instruments, Infinite Contexts
With just the two of us, we had to get creative. We weren't just singing; we were building a soundscape. I integrated the recorder flute into some of the arrangements, allowing us to weave between:
• Two-part vocal harmonies.
• Guitar and flute dialogues.
• Voice accompanied by the rhythmic pulse of the guitar.
By stripping the arrangements back, we found new "creative solutions" to the traditional tunes. We explored every texture we could find, looking for the balance between the history of the song and our own modern musical language. The result was something intimate, transparent, and—dare I say—beautiful.

A Venue with a Story: Slamnikarski Muzej
Performing at the Slamnikarski muzej in Domžale (the Straw Hat Museum) added another layer to the experience. The venue is steeped in the history of local craft and industry. Singing folk songs—music born from the people and their work—amongst the heritage of Domžale felt like the perfect alignment of time and place.

Odsev-Napev is all about reviving and reflecting on our folk heritage, and doing so in such a historical venue made every note feel grounded in tradition, even as we rearranged those traditions into something new.

What’s Next?
This project reminded me that sometimes, less truly is more. Martin and I enjoyed this "minimalist" approach so much that we are already talking about developing the idea further. Perhaps a recording is in our future?

The "For Real" Feeling
I have been working with children since 2005. I’ve coached them for big musicals like The Sound of Music and Annie, and I’ve led the youngest spirits in Kamnik. But when I stepped into the Music Conservatory in Ljubljana in 2024, it felt different. It felt, for lack of a better word, "for real."
There is a unique weight to teaching kids who are already musicians—children who are there to balance the joy of play with the discipline of an artist.

Starting from Nine
When I took over, the choir was at a crossroads. Because school choirs naturally cycle as children grow and move on, I found myself standing in front of just nine singers.
In an institution that houses world-class ensembles under the baton of Ambrož Čopi, the pressure was on. I didn't just want to "keep the seat warm"; I wanted to build. We started from scratch. We worked on the fundamentals of breath and listening. Slowly, those nine voices grew into a full choir. We pushed through the challenge of teaching young children three-part harmonies—a task that requires immense focus—and they rose to it beautifully.

The Sound of Growth
Our progress wasn't just measured in numbers, but in moments:
• St. Jakob Church: Performing at the Christmas concert alongside Ambrož Čopi. Even as a smaller group at the time, their voices filled the church with a clarity that was purely "for real."
• Baba Yetu & Strings: Performing with the string orchestra allowed the kids to feel the power of a larger ensemble. Hearing them tackle the complex rhythms of Baba Yetu showed me just how much their "vocal muscles" had grown.
• The Festival Circuit: From the local Pomladna prepevanja in Ljubljana to the prestigious Youth Choir Festival in Celje (Mladinski pevski festival Celje), where we had the distinct honor of opening an evening—a stage that has hosted the best young voices in the region for decades.

Pushing Boundaries: New Music & Brass
Perhaps the most exciting part of 2024 was being part of the living history of Slovenian music. We gave the first performances of new works by the wonderful Katarina Pustinek Rakar.
And to top it off? We stepped into the studio to record a new piece with the Slovenian Philharmonic Brass section. Seeing my students stand tall and hold their own alongside professional musicians from the Philharmonic was a "full circle" moment for me.

The Lesson
They say a conductor leads the music, but in 2024, these kids led me. They reminded me that it doesn’t matter if you start with nine or ninety—what matters is the willingness to build, harmony by harmony.

The Year of the Batons
If my previous years were defined by the quiet solitude of the composer’s desk, 2024 was defined by the breath of the choir and the movement of the baton. It was a year of immense growth, marked by a deep honor: taking over the Children’s Choir at the Music Conservatory in Ljubljana. Guiding these young voices in the heart of our musical capital has been a profound responsibility and a daily inspiration.
From the rehearsals with MePZ Svoboda Mengeš and the elegant strength of ŽePZ Rozka Usenik, my calendar was a map of Slovenia’s rich choral tradition.

Seeing Maister Through a New Lens
As a composer, I have often looked at Rudolf Maister through his lyrics, setting his words to my own music. But 2024—the Year of Rudolf Maister—offered a different perspective. I found myself as the interpreter, conducting his works composed by masters like Emil Adamič and Andrej Misson.
In Kamnik, where his legacy is everywhere, looking through "another lens" at his art felt like a masterclass in history. We brought that spirit to the 1st Kodrovi dnevi in Radomlje, honoring Anton Koder in my own hometown. It was a beautiful moment of homecoming—connecting folk songs and local poetry to the community that raised me.

The Artistic Narrative: Sozvočenja 2024
A major highlight of the year was our participation in the Sozvočenja 2024 competition. This isn't just a contest of "who sings loudest"; it’s a platform for thematic programming. It pushed us to think about the narrative of our music. Performing there allowed us to showcase our artistic identity and refine the stories we wanted to tell before taking them to the international stage.

A Golden Milestone: MePZ Cantemus at 45
The "crescendo" of the year belonged to MePZ Cantemus. We celebrated our 45th anniversary with incredible collaborations alongside groups like Ljubljanski madrigalisti and Vox Annae.
But the crowning moment came in Slovakia. We traveled to the Slovakia Cantat in Bratislava, where we performed a program of Slovenian folk songs. Bringing our heritage to an international jury is always a nerve-wracking joy, but walking away with a Golden Medal was the perfect 45th-birthday gift for the choir.

Closing the Score
2024 taught me that a conductor is a bridge—between the composer and the singer, between the past (Maister/Koder) and the future (the Conservatory kids). It was a year of hard work, long tours, and beautiful harmonies.
What a year.

The Arrival
There is a specific kind of magic that happens in a room full of children before the first note is even played. in 2023 I hosted a workshop called "S pesmijo okoli sveta" (With Song Around the World). The goal was simple: to introduce young ears to the folk traditions of different cultures.
But as any teacher knows, the "lesson plan" is just the starting point. What actually happened was a five-day journey of discovery—not just for them, but for me.

More Than Just Notes
We didn't just "learn songs." We explored the mechanics of human expression. We worked on:
• The Breath: Understanding how our bodies become the instrument.
• Vocal Texture: How a lullaby from one continent requires a different "color" than a celebratory dance from another.
• Movement: We danced. Because folk music isn't a museum piece; it’s a living, breathing pulse that lives in the feet as much as the throat.

The "Stay Late" Metric
In the corporate world, people measure success with KPIs and spreadsheets. In my world, I measure it by how early the students arrive and how late they stay.
By mid-week, the kids were showing up before the doors were officially open. They didn't want to miss a single warm-up. They stayed late to ask about the meaning of a specific lyric or to show me a new way they’d found to move to a rhythm. They "sucked up" the knowledge like sponges—not because they had to, but because they were genuinely hungry for the connection music provides.

The Final Chord
The week culminated in a performance for the parents. Watching these children stand tall, sharing songs from sides of the world they’ve never visited, was a powerful reminder.
Music is the ultimate bridge. We explored the differences in scales and languages, but we found the similarities in the feeling. Whether a song is about joy, sorrow, or a silly animal, the human heart reacts the same way in every corner of the globe.

Reflection for the Week
As a composer and pedagogue, these workshops are my "research." They remind me that music should always be, first and foremost, play.

Life has a way of returning us to where we began, but with a new song in our hearts. In 2023, I had the immense honor of being featured in the Vocal Abonma of the Slovenian Philharmonic Choir.

As I stood in the prestigious hall of the Slovenian Philharmonic, I was suddenly transported back to when I was five years old. I remembered standing on that same stage for the very first time, a small child in a choir singing the folk song "Barčica po morju plava." To return decades later—not just to perform, but to hear my own composition brought to life by one of the finest choirs in the country—was overwhelming. Even after many years of performing there, this felt different. My heart was pounding as the first notes began.

The Story of "Tu-Ji-Na"
The piece performed that night, "Tu-Ji-Na," was born from a deep personal connection. The lyrics were written by my former colleague from my very first job at GSŠRM Kamnik, Katarina Galič van der Linden.
Katarina moved to Australia years ago, where she now works at a Slovenian radio station in Melbourne and teaches music. Her poetry perfectly captures the ache of "tujina"—the longing and missing of one’s motherland. I felt a responsibility to externalize her words into music, to bridge the distance between Slovenia and Australia through sound.

The Ultimate Reward
When I sent the recording to Katarina in Melbourne, she told me the music brought tears to her eyes. As a composer, that is all I ever need to hear. It meant I didn't just write notes; I felt her words truly and deeply.
A massive thank you to the Slovenian Philharmonic Choir and conductor Gregor Klančič for making this "little dream" come true and for treating my music with such care.

Sometimes, as musicians, we don’t just find music; we find a mirror. In 2023, I was invited to participate in a project marking the 50th anniversary of the passing of Cvetana Priol. Before this project, I didn’t even know she existed. Today, I feel as though I’ve found a part of myself in her story.

Cvetana was a true daughter of Maribor—a pedagogue, a talented organist, and a composer. Though her life was defined by the physical suffering of a grave illness, she transformed that pain into a "Spiritual Diary" and a legacy of profound faith.

When I sat down to set five of her lyrical poems to music, I expected a challenge. Instead, I found a miraculous ease. It was as if the melodies were already there, waiting in her words; the music flowed out of me effortlessly, a natural conversation between two women who speak the same language of the soul.

These pieces weren't just personal experiments. They were brought to life in the most sacred of settings:
• Performance: Part of the Sacral Abonma in the iconic Ursuline Church in Ljubljana and in her home city of Maribor.
• Publication: I am incredibly proud that these works, including the piece "Kesanje" (Repentance), have been published by Edicije DSS (Slovenian Composers' Association).

Cvetana is currently in the process of beatification, a testament to her extraordinary life. Her story has inspired me to launch a Women Composers Project on my Patreon. I want to ensure that voices like hers—and the voices of other underappreciated women in music—are no longer hidden in the archives.

In Slovenia, we carry our history in our songs. As we gathered to celebrate our Independence Day, I had the honor of performing with the Vocal Group Muze at the local celebration gala in the Kamnik municipality.

For us, folk music is more than just tradition—it is a living, breathing aspect of our identity. We wanted to bring that heritage to life on stage, but the evening took an unexpected, creative turn. With one of our members absent, we decided to "spice things up" by integrating the piano into our arrangements.
What started as a necessity turned into something truly magical. The piano added a fresh, lyrical layer to our folk roots, creating a bridge into the more symphonic works that followed later in the evening. It was a night of deep connection—to our culture, to our town, and to our history.

Happy Birthday, Slovenia! 🇸🇮

Over the past few years, I’ve had the privilege of leading several of Slovenia’s most spirited choirs through their major anniversaries. From the tiny rehearsals where it all began to the grand stage of Križanke, these moments define my life as a conductor and educator.

The Heart of My Journey: DROUZ (10th Anniversary, 2021)
DROUZ is my project, my "everything." What started with just a few girls grew into a powerful mixed choir that has consistently earned golden plaques at competitions. This project eventually expanded into Radomlje, and I am so proud of the musical community we built from the ground up.

The Waldorf Spirit: OŠ Waldorf (30th Anniversary, 2022)
Teaching at the Waldorf schools in Ljubljana and Naklo was a joy. These children are overflowing with a love for the arts. Preparing a performance using Orff instruments for the massive, historic hall of Križanke was both a challenge and a highlight—a true celebration of creative freedom.

A Standard of Excellence: GŠ Matije Tomca (25th Anniversary, 2022)
It was a distinct honor to conduct the Children’s Choir at Zavod Sv. Stanislava (ŠKG). Leading such proud singers in one of the most prestigious choral schools in Slovenia was a deeply rewarding professional peak.

Continuing the Legacy: GŠ Kamnik (70th Anniversary, 2023)
A major milestone for the Kamnik community! In 2023, I conducted the Children’s Choir for the school’s 70th anniversary. It was a "full circle" moment where I was able to honor the school’s long-standing legacy while also performing my own original compositions.

The Soul of Mengeš: MePZ Svoboda (70th Anniversary, 2024)
I have been with Svoboda Mengeš since 2019. These are "people with soul"—full of determination, love for music, and a sense of adventure. Our 70th-anniversary concert in 2024 was a massive event, made even more special by our collaboration with the folklore group.

History in the Hall: MePZ Cantemus (45th Anniversary, 2024)
Performing in the historic and beautiful hall of Castle Zaprice with Cantemus was magical. Having led them since 2021, this anniversary felt like the perfect culmination of our work together in a setting that breathed history.

A Golden Bond: ŽePZ Rozka Usenik (50th Anniversary)
I have been the 5th conductor of these wonderful women since 2013. Our 50th-anniversary event was breathtaking, and receiving an award from the Ljubljana Municipality (MOL) was a proud moment for all of us. I truly love these singers; their connection with the audience is something special.

A Decade of Excellence: KGBL Children’s Choir (10th Anniversary, 2025)
Celebrating ten years with the choir at the Ljubljana Conservatory of Music and Ballet (KGBL) was a highlight of my 2025. On April 11th, we filled the Great Hall on Vegova with music that represented a decade of growth and artistic dedication. It was particularly special to share the stage with our musical guests from abroad, making the anniversary a truly international celebration of young talent.

It was a profound honor to serve as a teacher and conductor for the Children’s Choir at the 70th-anniversary celebration of Glasbena šola Kamnik. For seven decades, this school has been a cornerstone of our community’s soul, and being part of this milestone felt like stepping into a living history.

What made this evening truly unforgettable was the opportunity to not only uphold our school's rich legacy but to contribute to it directly. Conducting the choir as they performed my own original music was a 'full circle' moment I will always cherish. Seeing my students breathe life into my compositions on such a historic stage reminded me why we teach: to pass on the flame of tradition while sparking the fire of new creation.

Pesem iz vira moči (The Song from the Source of Strenght/The Power of the Swamp) is a musical theatre play, a fairy tale for children. It was written on the initiative and in cooperation with the Terra Anima society, with which we raise awareness of the importance of the swamp ecosystem for our environment.

We are losing wetlands faster than rainforest - we have lost nearly 90% of wetlands globally since 1700. These earth's most vulnerable ecosystems are important as air conditioners in managing climate change, providing drinking water and purifying and enriching groundwater. Wetlands are the kidneys of the landscape and a treasure trove of biodiversity, the most biotically diverse ecosystems.
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Our goal was to show how to stand up for it, how to become its guardian or just someone who lets the power of the place through themselves and thus becomes much more.

In April KUD Franc Kotar Trzin celebrated their anniversary and performed two of the theatre plays and showcased the music I wrote for them in the chain of events during the whole month. Was very honoured to see it being performed again.

Later, in May they attended a theatre play competition and got an award for their performance. Cheers to Blaznost igre and Salto mortale crew.

At the beginning of January I wrote a the piece "Hrepenenje" (Longing) for choir SATB, which has been premiered in February by Pedagoška Fakulteta Choir and also successfully performed at a competition in March. A piece is an ode to longing for some peace in this ever hurrying world.

Was also nice to see my pieces Coprnica Zofka and Nekaj je v zraku be performed by various choirs at regional competition Sozvočenja, to see people enjoy performing it.

I am honoured that I was interviewed and was able to present a piece of my works at a Slovenian Radio ARS in the show "Izpod peresa slovenskih skladateljev". It was such a pleasure speaking with Katarina Radaljac about my work, although at first it was quite hard for me to talk about it, since I usually just let people listen to it, but over a time it was such fun to discuss it that I forgot I was actually interviewed. Still haven't mustered time to listen to it, but I am sure Katarina prepared it well. Here is the link to the podcast, if you are interested, but unfortunately it is only in Slovenian.

https://ars.rtvslo.si/podkast/izpod-peresa-slovenskih-skladateljev/173250848/174931814

How the donkey who defeated the monster is a therapeutic musical story to help children cope with fear. It was inspired by a real donkey named Bard. Bard is such a character and Špela Kaplja felt that for his birthday she will write a story inspired by Bard. It is a lovely story about how we make the fears ourselves and how the donkey deals with it, showing townspeople how to get through it. It was such a pleasure to write music for this lovely story, which came alive with illustrations by Jana Fak.
The book was published and presented in December 2022 by Terra Anima and can be purchased by Chiara publishing house. Since Špela is also a storyteller we started touring with this book around and I am looking forward performing pieces live with her throughout Slovenia, helping kids realise fear is but a big fluffy furry friendly "monster".

It is funny that though I write a lot of pieces, especially for kids, and I also teach kids from 5 years and above, I tend not to sing and perform my pieces with them, but last year I was encouraged by school to prepare something and we started with this little piece about the upcoming winter. The children loved singing it so much they begged me to repeat and repeat singing it so many times I had to stop them and continue with other topics. Since then I started teaching kids some of my songs and I am so happy when I see them enjoy singing it. Although it is mostly classroom performances to me it feels like we are on a big stage and just seeing them shine like little rays of happiness when they sing it, it makes it all worthwhile.

The performance of a piece "Zima bo" took place on big stage in Kamnik with 50 of my little students singing it. What a blast!

At the begging of 2022 we started with the performances of ballet for kids with an environmental note to it, to start preserving and taking care of our surroundings. Everything starts with a small gesture. In December we successfully finished our tour with 25 fully packed performances. I am so proud of all the dancers, seeing them develop from performance to performance, enjoy every second of it each time they were on stage, and really grateful to all the moms who took time to help out with organising such big children corpus of dancers. And in the end the biggest thanks goes to a wonderful choreographer and ballet dancer, Ana Trojnar who made this ballet come to life.

I enjoyed writing music myself and hearing all the positive feedback from the dancers, organisers to the kids and other listeners who came to see ballet just made me so blessed and thankful I was able to be part of this project. Thank you all for making this become live and thriving.

A piece that was written over the night, literally.
When things are tight in schedule, more new things need cram into, but when you have time, there's silence. And so it was also the case this time. I got a call from a conductor of De Profundins choir to write a new piece on a lyric from old Slovenian folktales about castle life of medieval Slovenia. Mine was about a lady and a beggar. A story is quite bitter so I will not explain it here, but the process of writing a piece for choir on these story was a one where music became to be quickly. I loved how the conductor had a clear vision of a concept, how she explained the story and background to me in detail and her enthusiasm came all over me so it was quite easy to write the piece "Grajska gospa in berač" (A court lady and a beggar).
Seeing and hearing a piece performed by beautiful voices of this choir in beautiful castle settings all over Slovenia, despite driving in narrow roads on a rainy night, was an experience one doesn't forget.

When they asked me to write music on a text by Nebojša Pop-Tasić I couldn't resist but say yes, although my concert and teaching schedule was crazily packed. This time I loved the story even more than the previous one, as well written as always, so the music just followed the pace of the work itself. Unfortunately due to some other events I wasn't able to come see the premiere, but was enjoying every second of it when I finally got to see it a couple of performances later. Actors played the part as brilliant as always and the show was thrilling from the beginning to the end. Thank you Hlodi for inviting me to be a part of this amazing theatre piece once again.

https://www.kud-trzin.si/salto-mortale/

Amongst many other songs I have written in 2022 is a piece called "Ljubim" dedicated to a dear friend of mine and her husband. I wrote it in Brela, a beautiful town in Croatian coastline in a shed with a view to the sea. It somehow reminded me of a shed that Grieg has made for himself to compose and with this thought in my mind I felt inspired writing the piece whilst looking to the clear waters down below.
Ljubim is a first piece in a long time for which I have also written lyrics, not only the music and arranged it for three female voices with piano accompaniment. At the beginning it was a bit of a struggle, but more I have dedicated to it, more the lyric and music poured out. I wish a couple to live a long and prosperous life with abundance of love.

Not only my piece Ave Maria was recorded and produced by a publishing house last year but was also performed on a tour by Petra Vrh Vrezec and Gregor Klančič throughout Slovenia, starting with a concert in Ljubljana. On a day when it was performed I just flew back home and I took off from a very long flight, forced myself not to go directly home to sleep but to go to the concert and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed it. Listening pieces from Caccini, Mozart, Verdi, Saint-Saëns etc. my soul was lifted up and the fact that on a same concert where all those big names were performed I heard my piece it just made my heart full of happiness. A beautiful sound coming from above filling the space of the Ursuline church was so special I felt better when the concert was finished, although I had to hurry back to the bus station not to miss my last bus home. Worth every second of it. Thank you Petra and Gregor for that!

Night of Slovenian music days 2022. Uroš Vegelj and Lovorka Nemeš Dular tackle my new piece for tuba and piano, a piece called "Nič na kvadrat", translated to Zero squared. What a nonsense of a statement! This piece is my reaction to what is currently happening in this world in different areas of life. I love that both instrumentalists really enjoyed performing the piece and I also enjoyed collaborating with them, seeing it develop and be performed. Am very grateful to collaborate with musicians like Uroš and Lovorka and I thank them for bringing my piece to life as they did.

In a season of 2022 Gaja Sorč, Sabina Gruden, Mojca Lavrenčič and Tina Sapundžić have prepared a project on which amongst all the great female composers throughout history have been presented and on this concert cycle they also performed a couple of my works, what an honour to be in a presence of such calibre! Throughout art song and painting they dedicated the night in the honour of all that a woman is. Was glad that my music could be a part of this beautiful project.

Photo by Tamara Bizjak

Happy to announce my second ballet was finally performed. Premiere was on 4th of February in Kulturni dom Kamnik and since then we already had 14 repeats. There will be more from April on, touring around Slovenia.
Story that I wrote 50 minutes of music on was written by young ballerina Karolina Graj who is also performing as a mermaid in the show and choreographed by Ana Trojnar whose ballet class is performing the whole ballet.
Besides writing the music I had a privilege to illustrate the story background and posters as well. Had such fun doing that. Sharing a snippet of it here.

In January an award was given and my piece Ocean breath was finally performed by male choir of AG Ljubljana, conducted by Sebastjan Vrhovnik and broadcasted by RTV Slovenia.

At the Regional competition of choirs we received 3rd place and golden award and a special award for best performed folk song. I feel very proud of where we have come with Drouz and feel very happy on going forward with them.

https://domzalec.si/zlato-priznanje-in-posebno-priznanje-zirije-za-kulturno-prosvetno-drustvo-drouz/

Ever since I can remember I loved folk songs and had a wish to reach out to people with them. This weekend I had a chance to transcend this to all the people who came and enjoyed, sang with us and gave us the best applause ever. Thank you KUD Franca Kotarja for making us a part of your St Martin’s Holiday concert.

I had an honor to be picked as a participant of Enoa to be part of an amazing experience at the Queen Elizabeth music chapel in Belgium. Very inspiring place and people make you full of new ideas and energy, so got home with new aspirations.

At Viteška dvorana in Križanke my new and recycled old pieces just got performed by two amazing artists, Zala Hodnik [soprano] and Ana Semič Bursać [piano].

Theatre show Blaznost igre for which I wrote music for based on text of Nebojša Pop-Tasič and one of the actors as well just got a Matiček award at Linhartovo srečanje in Postojna. Feeling very proud of what we did.

As a child I loved these magazines and now I had an honor to write new pieces for that same publication. For me these kind of things are the most rewarding!

I just got this batch right out of print from Astrum publication. Two new works I did for children’s choir and one for high voices. 🎶

We had a privilege to participate at the 1st gospel festival in Novo mesto arranged by MePZ Pomlad and Alenka Podpečan, where we performed at two different venues and I even had a chance to lead a bit at a workshop and conduct to united choir made out of three amazing choirs (Pomlad, Bee Geesus). It really was a joyous moment.

When you have the best audience and best musicians you could wish for to make one of the most rewarding evenings where you could perform your own works as well.

This year I was a part of a wonderful experience, where I had a chance to write a short opera and work with amazing musicians under Anthony Heidweiller.

Here is a short video about it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ysv7cJhpYHQ

A link to the website: https://academie.festival-aix.com/en/workshop/voice/opera-de-ci-de-la-residency
and official festival site: https://festival-aix.com/en/event/opera-de-ci-de-la

And a link to an online journal: https://www.journalzibeline.fr/critique/de-ci-de-la/

I've already written a blog about Aguilera's little copy-paste and we all know about some famous plagiarisms like the most famous Bizet's aria from Carmen and Celine's Dion All By Myself, so I won't be writing about these, but about the latest discovery I've come across with.
I've been studying Caccini's Ave Maria and thinking of what song does it remind me of. I've changed rhythm a bit and took few notes out and got a completely different genre of music out of it.
Here is a sheet music example. If you play yourself on a piano harmonies and take orchestral melody when it comes out and take last 2 notes from it (if you listen to the Sumi Jo's performance it comes out at 1:17) you get a melody from a song we probably all know: Fly Me To The Moon. Here is sheet music from Fly Me, so you can compare, but look at it from where main theme comes out. Maybe in this performance you could hear the developing harmonies from Ave Maria better.
I know these are completely different genres of music and I'm not saying B. Howard stole it from Caccini, but if he did he camouflaged it brilliantly!
So, if you think you can make a better song from a previous one, take the part of music you like the most, progressing hamonies, which you spice or transpose a bit, maybe change the rhythm and you've got a completely new song out of it! But basically it's the same music ...
But all in all, one can get similar melodies to the existing ones really quickly these days, so who blames it? Some even say they did it because they thought that way they would do music its justice. Well, at least they admit.
In this case I think that there are a bit too many similarities (excluding the main voice melody) to the orchestral part for me to say he didn't copy it, but who knows-I don't. I think he and Caccini are the only ones to know ... Both songs are huge "hits" even till now, so I think it doesn't matter if it was copied or not, because both are artistically and musically very good and listenable and both served their justice.
What do you think, was it copied or not? :)

Music Academy in Ljubljana prepared and performed Monteverdi's opera L'Orfeo/Orfeo (info about the opera itself). Thus I think they did a very decent performance of it I'm posting here their performance from Ptuj.
If you like it, you can still see it in Ljubljana and in Venice. All the details about performances and performers etc. you can find on this site.
Enjoy!

List of my compositions, performed from november 2011 till may 2012 (that I know of):
 
November:
Črni muc (mixed choir; performed by MePZ Slamnik)
December:
Orhideja (voice&piano; first performance, performed by Klemen Torkar)
March:
Trobentice II (mixed choir; first performance by MePZ Slamnik)
May:
Črni muc (mixed choir; performed by vocal group Krila and my MePZ Slamnik)
Trobentice (voice&piano; first performance; performed by Eva Černe&Uršula Jašovec)
Deček in sonce (female choir&piano; performed by vocal group Sončnice)
Asha (2 flutes&piano; first performance by Medeja Unuk&Andreja Marčun&Mateja Lasič)
Trobentice II (mixed choir; performed by MePZ Slamnik)
Kelih (voice&piano; performed by Eva Černe&Uršula Jašovec)
Pomladni dan (voice; performed by Matej)