ANI HAN TALKS COTTON SEAMS

Interviewed by Culture Coast Talks editor Daniel John. Interview transcripts might have been edited for length and clarity.

When did you write 'Cotton Seams'?

I remember writing 'Cotton Seams' on my living room floor. I was journaling about my experience in a new city, reflecting on my interactions with people. At the time, I was fed up with the pleasantries and the need to impress and all the small talk. I was imagining this "perfect girl" who always said and did the right things, but nobody knew what was really going on behind the facade. That girl was me. I found myself asking, who am I trying to impress when I go out. I'm in a stable and wonderful relationship, so there's no need for it, right. In that moment, I thought, “Whatever, I’m going to start wearing the most basic clothes”. But in choosing to wear "basic" clothes and saying that I don’t care, I realized I still cared about how others perceived me. 'Cotton Seams' is about that disconnection. Between our words, thoughts, and actions. It's beautiful that listeners interpret the song in different ways, so to avoid tainting their imaginations, I’ll leave it at that.

All of this music you're now sharing started with the loss of your mother, a sadness I would imagine unspeakable. Did music, in a way, become your way of expressing that ache despite the fact?

Absolutely. I have always been an optimistic person, generally positive, maybe to a fault. But grief does not care about your optimism or positivity. It is universal, yet deeply personal. We all experience it but the way it manifests is different for each of us. I’ve heard grief described as “love with no place to go”, and the love that I had, and still have, for my mother has found its expression in my music.

Is music something that you shared?

Yes it definitely was, my mom studied classical voice in undergrad and she was the one who instilled music into my life as well. I grew up watching her singing and directing the church-choir, she would sing certain hymns to me and my siblings as infants and she taught us how to harmonize in grad school, she also encouraged me to learn play the violin and piano from a young age even though she didn’t play the violin herself. I had the privilege of accompanying her on both instruments for solos at church. Even when I wasn’t releasing music, I’d create little beats in my room, and she was always my biggest supporter. Beyond our faith, music was the bond that brought us even closer.

So music was always this big part of your life but what was your relationship to songwriting before these songs. Was that, putting down your thoughts and feelings in such a direct way, an all new thing for you?

Yes and no, I've always seen myself as more of a musician by trade and a writer by nature. I started journaling at ten and became more consistent with it in high school. I've written bits of songs throughout my life, and I even remember crafting a snippet of a song in fifth grade, though it was heavily influenced by the pop-punk and the alt-rock I loved at the time, so the snippet was pretty depressing. (Laughs) The toughest part about songwriting, for me, is getting to a place of honesty, it might sound strange since my songs are so personal but to open up about difficult emotions does not come easily to me. In fact, I often shy away from it. But being honest with myself and in my writing is something I try to practice every day even if it doesn’t always turn into a song.

Both trained as a violinist and pianist, how does the foundation in classical inform your creative method?

My classical training shapes much of my approach to music. After years of playing most harmonic, and melodic, choices come naturally. I write intuitively without consciously focusing on progressions as much. However I like to set creative boundaries for myself as an exercise. Sometimes I will approach a writing session with a specific goal, like incorporating a Picardy third or writing a verse that stays over one chord. This helps push my creativity in new directions while strengthening my intuitive writing.

With your songs feeling so profoundly real and personal, what has the experience of sharing them been like for you?

It’s been an interesting journey. I’ve always been nervous about sharing my songs because they’re so vulnerable. I grew up in a culture where managing your image and behavior was the norm, so I would worry about how people would perceive me, wondering if they would think I had issues, and so on. But over time, I’ve realized that people are mostly focused on themselves, not me. That realization has created a sense of camaraderie not just for me but for everyone who connects with the music.

Do you think a big part of the catharsis comes from that?

For me, the catharsis comes from reaching a place of honesty and vulnerability with myself, embracing my humanness, and just being okay with it. What others take from it is a bonus! When I release a song or perform it on stage, I’ve usually already made peace with whatever moment I’m singing about.

How would you describe the moment you're in right now?

Right now, I am in a place of self-discovery and acceptance. As an artist I’m starting to find my sound. And while it is not what I expected, it feels true. For much of my life, I held back my feelings and thoughts, unsure they would be accepted. Some of it was self-imposed, but either way it led me to lose touch with who I truly am and who I was meant to be.

What about the acceptance part of it?

The acceptance part is twofold. Firstly it is about creating freely, like a child coloring outside the lines or drawing a blob of a dog if that’s what happens. The second part is embracing the truth that I was fearfully and wonderfully made. It’s about stepping into the world creatively with confidence and less second-guessing.

The music I have been working on for my next project is taking a different direction with the production. But it feels like me. I’m excited about it because it finally feels like an honest representation of me sonically.