Cha Wilde – Lose Myself in the Song (Interview)

March 29, 2021

Hello, hello
good morning
welcome to my studio
it's 5am approximately
May I tell you I love you
May I tell you I love you
May I tell you I love you
I love you
May I tell you I love you a thousand times a day
and only one of those times will be in words I say
Words I say
I sing so loud I get lost in my song
I sing so loud lose myself in my song
Mischief in the moonlight
dancing in between
holding space for someone
even when they're mean
lonely scrolling numbers
thousand miles away
holding space for someone
hearing what they say
I sing so loud I get lost in my song
I sing so loud lose myself in my song
A long time ago I wrote a song to get something off of my chest
I could be a little time in and get it off of my desk
I could be a little time in
I could be a little time in
I could be a little time in
I could be a little time in
Wrote a song
Wrote a song
A long time ago I wrote a song, it's still sitting on my desk
Their air is warm, the breeze is soft
I play a song, in my loft
See a sky, sip some tea
Paintings all surrounding me
I sing so loud I get lost in my song
I sing so loud lose myself in my song
Lose myself in the song
I sing so loud lose myself in my song

Cha Wilde - Lose Myself in the Song (Interview)


Thank you Cha Wilde for being here today. We think your music is super creative. And we like it very much.

Tell us about yourself.

I’m living in my Seattle studio spending my time practicing yoga, producing music, writing poetry and painting. They all influence each other. I’ll do yoga to my own music, which is a great way to see if the music feels good in the body — exploring if I want to move and float to it, if it inspires dance moves. I use a lot of yoga philosophy and spirituality to influence the music that I’m creating.

If I am experiencing difficult emotions, rather than writing music about those feelings, right now I’m really excited about how to take that feeling and actually transform them into something new, something bigger, more expansive and soothing. For example, instead of just writing a sad song about being sad, I’ll drop into my yoga practice and feel the feeling fully. When I give them attention, the feelings and emotions pass. Watching this process happening within me, I grow personally and I gain a deeper understanding of what’s possible for humans. Yoga and healing is a central part of my creative process. I’m always turning upwards. My music is a spiritual experience, a journey. It’s playing with expansive energy, vulnerability and freedom. When I’m creating music I slip into imaginary worlds and epic adventures. I’m always longing to feel more open and alive and I explore this desire, always striving to create this experience for myself through sounds. Smells trigger memories of the past and sounds trigger imagination. I love to play with this power. It requires me to be fully inside my human body and yet I’m playing inside my mind and awakening enormous feelings in my spirit. I love making music because it requires all of me to do this. Nothing can hide or be suppressed so it’s very liberating.

I’m also learning how to DJ. Finally, I’m able to perform my electronic songs and throw a dance party! It’s so fun. I’m looking forward to all the beautiful places I’ll be able to play soon; festivals, ecstatic dance gatherings, yoga conferences, amphitheaters, out in the wilderness. I’m really just excited to travel around this beautiful world and bring my DJ controller with me so I can throw a dance party anywhere. On top of a mountain, deep in the woods, at the beach or in the desert, I dream of playing music out there under a wide open sky at sunset. I feel inspired when I visualize the vibrations leaving my body and my speakers and traveling up into the air, outwards towards the universe. I’m sending sounds out into space as far as they can travel and it all starts with a thought in my mind, a sensation in my body. We’re so connected.

We would like to know your history as an artist.

Apparently, when I was 3 years old I would stand in front of the fireplace, clasp my hands together and sing for my family like a little opera singer. I loved singing and I was taking singing lessons at my preschool. But then mysteriously, I went silent. My family moved to a new state and I’m guessing I was traumatized by the big change. I stopped singing in public and my parents didn’t hear me sing again until I was 26. As I was growing up, I kept singing passionately in the privacy of my bedroom or my car but if I knew someone was listening, my throat would close up.

I spent my childhood playing alone in the forest, writing poems and stories and listening to music. Everywhere I went I was wearing my headphones, holding my CD player and carefully selecting the perfect soundtrack for life.

When I was in high school, I started going to a church. A friend kept inviting me and I was drawn in by the music and community. I sang in the sanctuary and the youth choir. I liked that I could sing loud and with other people but my voice would just blend in with everybody. It felt safer because no one could hear me. I got to express that without having to be really vulnerable. I always loved the sound of my voice and I would sing in church wondering if the people beside me could recognize my talent. It was a strange blend of wanting to hide and wanting to be seen. I also have a memory of the youth choir direction asking someone to volunteer to sing a solo.

I gulped. I had that feeling in my chest that was like – “I want to do that!” but I didn’t have the guts to volunteer. I was too afraid and I just felt like I died a little bit inside. Something in me wanted it. I saw the opportunity and didn’t take it. This was a pattern in my early life. I felt a pain in my chest, a longing to create and perform music, to sing on a stage, to feel so free to express myself in front of the whole world and yet, I stayed quiet and hiding.

My earliest memory of that was at ten years old. I went to audition for the elementary school musical. I wanted to sing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ but I totally chickened out and self sabotaged. I sang a pitiful rendition of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ and was assigned to the stage crew. This kind of thing happened all the way through college. In my early twenties I started gravitating towards music, buying a guitar and learning how to play Taylor Swift songs. By the time I was 26, I was sick of hiding and holding back. In my early

At that time, as part of a yoga teacher training program, I was asked to dig deep into past trauma and buried emotions. My singing dreams rose to the surface and I had to speak some truth and publicly admit that I love singing. I stood in front of a group of 30 people and they patiently waited for me to sing. I stood there shaking and crying for 45 minutes, barely squeaking out a sound. Enough was enough and I finally sang. I belted with all my lungs and the whole room silently watched as I used my full voice for the first time as an adult. I received a standing ovation and everyone came up afterwards and encouraged me to be the singer I am.

After that, I started singing for my yoga students. I would chant for them when they were laying in savasana at the end of class. My voice was shaky for the first months but I kept doing it because I had broken free and I wanted to keep the momentum going. My yoga students started asking me when I was going to release an album. I kept insisting I was only going to sing for yoga classes but eventually I gave in to this music adventure.

When I turned 27, I challenged myself to write 27 songs on guitar. When I was 28, I challenged myself to do 28 performances. When I was 29, I decided to start recording the songs because everyone wanted that album. Learning how to use recording equipment was frustrating for me and I cried a lot in the process. I realized I needed help so I recorded my first acoustic EP live in a professional studio. While I learned how to record I was performing often in yoga classes and on yoga retreats.

In my late twenties, I started enjoying music festivals, raves and huge concerts. My life was full of dance music. I started to feel disconnected from the guitar songs I was writing. I wasn’t feeling the acoustic vibes anymore. So I dove head first into electronic music production in Ableton so I could play with unlimited sounds. I was completely drawn in, experimenting with the blend of spiritual poetry, beautiful vocals and EDM beats. I started researching chakras, neurology, human behavior and music therapy. I was curious about how sound waves affected the human body and the movement of crowds. I was asking questions like What sound can I make that would unite 10,000 people in movement? How does the human body react to different frequencies, both consciously and subconsciously? How can I use sound to guide someone from a state of depression into a state of peace and joy? I shared this vision with some other producers in the music industry. They didn’t get it. I realized I would have to show them rather than tell them. This really lit a fire under me to create freely inside my own unfolding genre. My desire was to become a sophisticated music creation; someone who could wield this mysterious force for beauty and pleasure as well as for medicinal and peacemaking purposes.

Tell us the story of this song.

This song was born in the summer of 2020, right in the middle of COVID quarantine. I was staying with my parents, losing my mind, longing to be free, dreaming of music festivals. So I made a song about it. I would put on my headphones and disappear into my imagination. I used sounds to create the feelings I wanted to feel. The working title of this song was “I Love Music Festivals”. It was my escape.

It was so challenging to create any music while living with my parents. It took me back to those childhood days when I was hiding my voice. My family loves hearing me sing and yet my throat still closed up. Even with support, the creative process is vulnerable and intimate. It often requires solitude. All the music I made that summer was slightly strained and full of longing. I would record whenever I was home alone (which was rare). My microphone was set up in the corner of the guest room, dark and cramped. I was so afraid of being overheard and I was hard on myself for regressing. This clutter in the mind inhibited me from enjoying deep flow states. I was pretty desperate to sing, desperate to escape into the world of sound, my voice was weak but I recorded anyway. I just had to do the best I could with that whole album, even if it felt raw. Perhaps it wasn’t my best work but it was brave and necessary work. I had to keep going even if it felt like crawling. So I have a soft spot in my heart for these songs I wrote in 2020. This song is probably the best or most powerful song on that album because it was the beautiful escape that brought me life in dark times.

Tell us a funny story from your career.

As I mentioned earlier, when I was 28 I challenged myself to do 28 performances. At that stage in my journey, I was still terrified of singing in public. I took baby steps. Performance #1 was on the side of the quiet road. No pedestrians, no buildings. Just trees and sunshine. Maybe 20 cars drove by in 1hr. I had even dressed up for this performance. I had on cute teal pumps and a mini skirt. I played my guitar songs, nervous the whole time, embarrassed to be seen but also excited by my unusual behavior. I didn’t even have my lyrics memorized! They were all printed out on paper. I had to pin them to the ground with rocks and sticks so they wind wouldn’t chase them away. People driving by slowed down to listen but thankfully no one fully stopped. Some people cheered at me out their window. Some people looked very confused. After that, I tried to make each performance bigger than the one before. My second performance was on a street with pedestrians. I just kept taking little steps until I was up on a stage in a music venue and people were buying tickets.

Also tell a story of overcoming.

I think my biggest overcoming story was the one from the yoga class. It was terrifying for me to say the words “I want to be a professional musician. I love singing.” I had imposter syndrome and a lot of fear around claiming what I most deeply wanted. People told me how hard it would be. I was also really afraid that I would harshly realize I wasn’t as good as I thought I was or as talented as I hoped I was. I wanted to be amazing and that put a lot of pressure on me. I had a big dream and I was terrified that if I actually went for it, I might be told I wasn’t good enough for it. My fear was huge because my passion was huge. In those first couple years, I had to be really bold and build my mind up to go after it. I played scales to get better and I played mind games to keep going.

The first big moment of overcoming was taking the leap to declare what I wanted. Then it was taking the steps on a daily basis to make progress and bring the dream into reality. I feed the dream to keep it vivid. It took about 5 years of intensive discipline and refocusing to build my commitment to music, to develop new skills, to find courage to publish and perform my early body of work, and to redesign my lifestyle around music. I got through all of that by staying obsessed with my dream, the sparkling vision in my head.

A couple years ago though, I realized it no longer felt so good to be living in a dream world. I needed to come back to the present moment. This is when my yoga practice started creeping back in. I reconnected with the pleasure of being alive in the present moment. Instead of creating music to be in the dream, I reoriented myself to create music to be in this moment. That shift allowed me to enjoy myself fully. I was afraid that taking my eyes off of the dream would make the dream disappear but it actually helped me move faster. The pressure to be great went away. Instead of daydreaming, my day is a dream. I’m deeply enjoying the process of creating music, regardless of whether I’m in my living room or on a big stage. I love playing alone in nature and I delight in playing for audience. In nature, I feel my relationship with music growing. When I’m with an audience I feel lights turn on inside me and I watch myself travel deeper within layers of myself. With an audience, I can explore father to new frontiers than I can when I’m creating alone.

Leave a message for your fans.

Just this morning I was reading through my phone memos. I found a little paragraph I’d written about my current thoughts on music. I said that it’s not important to me anymore that I perform on a stage. What’s really important to me now is that I become part of people’s lives; that our lives interweave in oneness. If you come to see me perform on a stage, I want you to be excited to come to my show because you hang out with me all the time on Spotify. We’re part of each other’s lives. When I do a show, we’re excited to see each other! I know you’re out there listening to my music when you’re driving your car, in the shower, dancing in your living room, walking in the park. I’m thinking about daily life, the human body, what’s out there, and how I can create sounds that balance our energy, bring us into flow, set us free, reawaken our love, and get us playing with magic. We are the expanding universe. Let’s remember that and breathe.

Cha Wilde we wish you much success.

And we’ll see you in the next interview. Bye!

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