Winner of Female* Producer Prize 2024 /
Musician, Producer
Thank you so much. For me, this award felt like more than just recognition. It was the first time I felt officially recognized and seen as a producer. I had been creating music for a long time, but I struggled with what to call myself. My work as a drummer was always front and center, and I saw production as something secondary, something that simply came along with it.
This prize was the beginning of a change. For the first time, I could call myself a producer with real conviction. And that shift wasn’t just internal — it also changed how others saw me. I started getting invitations to co-produce, and more opportunities opened up. More importantly, I began to feel a deeper sense of both responsibility and joy in shaping music with my own hands.
Moving forward, I want to focus on producing work that’s a direct expression of my vision and instincts. This award gave me the push I needed to take that next step with clarity and confidence.
To be honest, applying wasn’t something I had even considered at first.
Up until then, I had been mostly playing drums in my musical work. I had done some production work, but I still saw myself more in a supporting role, and I didn’t have the confidence to fully claim the title of “producer”. Looking back now, though, submitting that application became a major turning point. What started as the smallest step — a quiet thought of maybe I’ll give it a try — ended up opening doors I never imagined. That’s what this award gave me: the experience of how even the tiniest leap can lead to something so much bigger.
Back when I was touring as a drummer, I gradually began to feel that simply performing other people’s music wasn’t enough. I wasn’t fully expressing what I needed to say. One day, I found myself on the stage of a massive concert. The moment the curtain rose, everything was flawless – the roar of the crowd, the lighting, the staging. And yet, I felt nothing. That moment hit me hard. It came as a shock, but also a moment of clarity. I didn’t want to echo someone else’s song. I wanted to build my own from the ground up, and to take ownership of the creative process and shape my music with intention.
During the pandemic, I finally had time to explore Ableton, both the music production software and the hardware, and that marked the real beginning of my path as a producer.
Musically, I’ve been deeply inspired by UK producers like Fred again.., Joy Orbison, and Overmono. Their work flows between genres without being tied down, but every detail is still carefully crafted. That balance between freedom and precision is something I really admire.
I also saw Kraftwerk live recently, and it left a huge impression on me. Their commitment to their own aesthetic, without bending to external expectations – that’s exactly the kind of integrity I aspire to. I guess I’m drawn to people who go against the grain – who break the rules and end up creating a whole new language of their own.
For me, it’s never just about the technology itself. I always focus on how we use it, and why. No matter how advanced AI or other high-powered tools become, without clear intent, they carry little meaning. In fact, I’ve seen time and again how limitations actually bring out the most distinctive creative voices.
When I’m on tour, I usually work with just a laptop and a few essential plugins. Later, back home, I’ll run those tracks through a tape machine to add texture. I enjoy that kind of process, moving between the digital and the physical. Even when it comes to AI, I’m less interested in generating melodies or synthetic vocals. I’d rather record my own voice and layer in noise or moments of chance. That approach just feels more in tune with who I am.
First and foremost, I want to release my own music. Whether it ends up as an EP or a full album, I’m determined to put something out under my own name.
Right now, I’m exploring how to fuse the precision of electronic sounds with something grittier and more physical, like unpolished acoustic drums. That tension, between punk-like urgency and the constructed nature of electronic sound, is what I want to capture in my work.
Eventually, I’d love to take on more collaborations as a producer and work with other artists. For now, I’m pushing the limits of my own voice, eager to see how far it can go on its own. Still, the thought of it eventually merging with another’s and finding harmony in that is something I look forward to.
For me, inspiration often comes from outside the world of music. Lately, I’ve been drawn to skate videos from the ’90s and early 2000s – those grainy clips where music plays over tricks and cruising scenes. There’s something compelling about the rough edits and raw sound, the way mistakes and imperfections are left in. I think it’s that sense of realness that strikes a chord with me.
There’s a certain creative sensibility in those videos that embraces flaws, and it’s something I’ve drawn a lot of inspiration from. That spirit of “just making something with whatever’s at hand,” no matter the environment, has become a core part of how I create as well.
Inspiration, for me, isn’t something that strikes only in rare, special moments. I see it as something that quietly lives in our day to day lives. Even something as simple as opening my laptop and launching an Ableton template – that small act already feels like the beginning of creation. It’s not about waiting for some grand idea to arrive. It’s more about laying down sounds, moving your hands, and watching as unexpected forms slowly take shape.
For me, creativity is often tied to boredom and stillness. A day with no plans, or time spent without speaking to anyone – those empty hours can suddenly give form to unexpected sounds. In a way, creation is born from those quiet moments when you’re simply staring up at the ceiling, and I feel that there’s a reason why some of the best ideas often show up in the shower.
Creation isn’t so much about willing something into existence, but rather about listening closely to what’s already there. For me, making art is a way to express who I am, but also a way to spark new moments of connection with others.
Don’t be afraid to start before you have all the answers. When I first opened Ableton, I honestly didn’t understand much at all. I began by experimenting and improvising with the sounds and tools, not because I had a clear goal, but simply because I was genuinely intrigued by the process. And over time, through that trial and error, I gradually began to discover my own style. So before you dive into 20 tutorial videos on YouTube, I encourage you to trust your own ears and hands.
And most importantly, remember that slow moments and failures are also part of creating. Making something new doesn’t always begin with certainty. More often, it’s that brief, grounding moment you stumble upon in the chaos – when something finally feels right – that matters the most.
There’s a pull inside me. A quiet, restless urge to try, to shape, to bring something into being. It doesn’t come from logic, but from something closer to instinct, or even muscle memory. Sometimes, the moment I wake up, I’m already brimming with the need to create, like a child on the night before her sixth birthday, too thrilled to sleep, too alive to stay still.
I think listening to that “voice” is where my music truly begins. I don’t create because I should, but because something in me insists on it. It’s a feeling that’s hard to put into words. That urgency, that unshakable drive, is what gives my music its tone, its weight, its pulse.
A drummer, percussionist, and music producer based in Berlin. Holding a master’s degree in jazz drums and pop music from music universities in Munich and Mannheim, she has performed alongside renowned artists such as Moses Sumney and Omar Rodríguez-López. In recent years, she joined The Mars Volta on tour as a performer and was awarded the Female* Producer Prize in 2024 for her work as a music producer.
