Irene Bianco is a percussionist and performer, active mainly in the fields of experimental music, contemporary music, and free improvisation. Originally from Italy, Irene started her musical training playing the drum set before shifting her focus to classical percussion.
She studied percussion performance at music academies in Italy and Denmark, where she is now based. At the same time, her experimental nature, curiosity, and versatility have led her to explore her instrument in new ways, both acoustically and through the use of electronics. Her music has been described as “sound poetry”, inviting listeners to delve into the spontaneous and unconventional. Irene´s debut solo album will be released in the fall of 2024 by Permanent Draft (London, UK). Currently, her main chamber activities are with the Damkapellet Collective and the Wolfskin Ensemble.
“She thinks of life and music as one thing, and she is trying to further explore this synchronic oneness when she performs and in her everyday life.” This is written in your bio, and it’s a beautiful idea, the oneness with one’s creation and works of art. Can you elaborate on what this has meant for you personally?
I think I started thinking about this shortly after high school—a few years ago—when, instead of enrolling in other fields of study, I decided to focus on music. At that point, I was pretty obsessed with percussion training in general and spent most of my time in the practice room or listening to music. In my teens, music was my way of escaping reality and expressing myself. Then, after high school, it suddenly became my only reality. At first, I thought this was the best thing ever. But before long, the routine began to diminish my enjoyment and imposed a sense of regulation on my creativity, as though it was something to be measured, scaled, or made productive—and that approach didn’t really work for me.
So, I began giving myself permission to engage more with life outside of my music studies: composing, writing, dancing, swimming. I started to stop putting up a barrier between the musician I was inside the rehearsal room and the person I was outside of it. Because before it was my job, music had always been my favorite way to view the world—and it couldn’t really be confined to a box—I didn’t need one anymore.
That said, I was still a little obsessed with the idea of becoming the best musician/percussionist I could be. So, I began translating the rules and practices of music into other aspects of my life, finding inspiration in things I would never have considered before. This practice still makes a lot of sense to me. In a way, I don’t have to wait to be on stage, have an instrument, or listen to a record—I can find musicality in anything.
You’ve undergone academic musical training, besides music and pedagogy. How did this shape your career?
I think in the beginning it came from my family. They noticed my interest in music from a young age, so they tried to find the best way they could to support my training and provide opportunities for me. I don’t think that an academy is the only place where you can learn about music and art. Often, when exciting things happen, they’re already a bit too fixed by the time they arrive there, and I find authority can also be limiting at times. But academies do have some really good aspects that I appreciate and that have shaped me: they’re places where music is taken seriously. For example, if you play percussion, you’re surrounded by a vast array of instruments—it’s like a paradise. They also allow you to spend hours practicing, in close contact with your instrument, while learning from the experiences of others. This gives you discipline and fosters a deep relationship with your craft, which is something truly precious. My parents are not musicians (though they’re true music lovers), and I come from a small place, so having academic training also connected me with a lot of people and made inspiring opportunities much more accessible.
You’ve also started learning tabla and Indian music. What led you to this?
Yes, I started around three or four years ago, but I haven’t had much time or many opportunities to continue recently, so it’s on standby for now.
My goal wasn’t necessarily to play tabla live. I wanted a different approach to percussion to what I was used to. In classical drum training, you don’t use your hands as much (although I’ve had some lessons and practice on djembe and congas). But the sounds and rhythms of the tabla have always fascinated me.
With most other instruments, there’s a direct connection and physical contact, but with drums, that connection often has to pass through the sticks. This was something I missed, especially because I was in love with a piece by Giacinto Scelsi (Ko-tha). While practicing it, I thought tabla training could help me dive deeper into the piece. I would love to record it one day… it’s been on the back burner for a few years now.
Can you talk about the concept of sound poetry and how you craft your sound worlds?
I like this term because I think it helps explain how I choose the sounds I work with and how I shape different harmonies and melodies. Sometimes, I try to create the same evocative effect, and other times, I focus on putting them into some kind of rhyme or rhythm. I also like to think about composition as having different verses (or metrics).
I’m usually telling some kind of story in my music, but I’ve always found it difficult to give it a prose narrative shape. I think my brain works better with associations and images, much like poetry does.
You started playing drums at an early age. What led you to it?
I started pretty early because music was a shared interest in my family. Both my brother (who played classical guitar) and my aunt (who played piano and percussion) were professional musicians and served as significant inspirations to me at that time.
The choice of instrument came in a similar way. I remember being around seven years old, sitting in the car with my mother on the way home from school. At that age, my siblings had also started learning music, and my mother told me that they had opened drum classes at the local school. So, I decided to give it a try. I liked it and stuck with it until I was 13. Around then, I started thinking about going to the conservatory, where I could learn other percussion instruments and dive deeper into music studies.
Can you talk about your current projects and what has inspired you lately?
I released my first solo album, Kronblade, for percussion and electronics (Permanent Draft, London, UK) last October. I’m really looking forward to performing it live in the spring and summer. I have a little tour planned, so I’m very excited about it.
I’m also busy playing live and composing with Damkapellet, a collective that focus on performing music by artists who define themselves as women, non-binary or transgender.
Another ensemble I’m working with at the moment is Wolfskin. It’s a seven-member group, and we have a lot of new ideas in the making.
It’s a period in which I’m not listening to a lot of new music, but I still attend plenty of live concerts because I really enjoy the energy they bring. Lately, I’ve started playing more piano and reading scores again in the practice room—mainly baroque music written for lute or harpsichord, which I play on marimba or vibraphone. This is always a source of inspiration for me.
When I’m not working on music, I usually try to spend my time moving. I live in the city, but try to reach a bit of nature during long walks. I love that I live close to water, for example. It’s probably through movement and what I observe—both inside and outside—during those walks that I get most of my inspiration these days.