Written and edited by Jack Helme

In April I sat down with Aayushi, a singer-song writer, fellow moment appreciator and above all, friend. Beyond our zoom screens birdsong played a Spring evening into dusk. Like Spring, our conversation opened towards notions of unfolding: unfolding lyrics, unfolding compositions, and unfolding selves. After such a deep Winter, listening to Aayushi’s music and hearing her reflections during the call was an enlivening and heart-opening experience. It left me feeling both inspired to write like her and grounded in my own approaches.

We began by exploring Aayushi’s writing process, ‘I definitely don’t sit down to write with the intention of making something. That just doesn’t work for me.’ Instead, Aayushi catches a phrase or image emerging from her mind before humming it variously and letting it rest until a melody gradually develops. She also writes electronically as it helps her to keep track of previous edits as time goes by and the songs incubate into existence. It’s a process that chooses to follow that which emerges in the moment; one can find echoes of this in her track Accidental Poetry:   

I was walking backwards
Through a foreign town
But I just closed my eyes 
Cause she knew where I was going

Here we can feel how Aayushi’s openness to experience imbues not only her subject matter but the very processes that lead to its generation.  The piece closes with the beautiful yet still withdrawn revelation: 

You know, I cannot help 
Staring carefully 
At the words falling out 
From your accident mouth - 
They're a strange type of poetry 
I've never felt.. 
But my god, this must be what it feels like 
To know yourself

This idea of free expression and surprise feels relatable for any creative who has caught themselves sitting back in their chair having haply uncovered and learned something new about themselves. 

Talking of learning, our talk then turned to university. Aayushi noted how her English degree had led her to over-analyse her own work, ‘It started getting in the way a lot. I was trying to already pin down what I was trying to say before I actually said it.’ Though, she also expressed her gratitude for vocabularic development and the pleasure of experiencing ‘a poignant moment and then feeling like you have the right words to describe it.’ She later would accredit this ‘respect for moments that happen’ as her strongest motivation to write. 

Aayushi’s ability to explore, appreciate, and then express these poignant moments runs throughout her work and finds itself mirrored by the appreciation of those listening along and having their very own experience. Aayushi is careful to leave space for the listener, she aims to provide images that ‘everyone can relate to in their own way’. There is little direction here. If we look to her 2020 release My Space is Overgrown, and the lines

Well my fingertips up close look like
the world from far away
and I'll make it so they always try
to reach and rest against a kind of light 

We find lines that bind together fingertips and planetary observations before melting into a statement of vulnerable yet determined intent to always reach towards the light. The invitation is there to make of that what you will.  Equally, a commitment from Aayushi to avoid needless lyrical or melodic intricacy allows this invitation to be heard clearly and effectively. It led me to think about the relationship between exploring the world and exploring myself and the importance of light and compassion during such searching moments. 

Elsewhere in the song, and throughout the end of our conversation themes of adulthood, responsibility, and again unfolding came to the fore. Aayushi spoke of her earlier experiences of writing and the space she once had ‘to feel all of those things and not really worry too much about what they meant.’ We acknowledged the loss of this naïve and playful approach and we expressed how our meditation practice allows us to maintain some of that space, but that it feels different now. Aayushi elaborated that she ‘almost [felt] like an older parent looking at a child, It’s nice to see someone playing, but it is different to actually playing.’ This led our conversation to a close, and I am entirely grateful to Aayushi for her time and for her music and for reminding me to be both the caring parent and the playing child.