We caught up with the fascinating Yasmin Radbod to delve into the inspiration behind her music, her diverse background, and the raw, authentic sound that defines the album “Ménager La Chèvre Et Le Chou“, her latest release that has touched us deeply.
Join us as we explore the depths of her creativity and passion.
Cougar Microbes: Describe your music to someone who has yet to hear it…
Raw, rare, real.
CM: Out of your own tracks, which is your current favourite and why?
I don’t have a favourite on this album. Each of these songs was crafted with my touch of magic–inspired by astrology, mythos, my dreamlife, my own story and my imagination. The album is a fairytale-like journey of one woman who lived without regrets and lived with her whole heart. Despite all the pain and suffering, she survives and thrives in love. There are themes that run through the album, like the symbolism of a window. I see a young woman who is trapped by things outside of her control, looking out, and she wonders how she will endure, and how will she find freedom? Her life is waiting out there. Metaphorically, this is also the struggle inside herself. How will she free herself, in mind and spirit, and break free from the control of others, so that when she does reach the outside, she will be truly liberated inside and out?
CM: Can you share a bit about your musical background? How did you first get into music, and when did you realise it was your passion?
I’ve been playing piano and writing music all my life. I begged my mother as a toddler to put me in piano lessons. By kindergarten, I studied piano with my first teacher and continued my classical training through part of college, before studying in China. In elementary school, I began playing the violin as well, but piano was always my passion. At one point, I was practising six to eight hours a day in college, memorizing classical pieces and performing recitals. I was too shy back then and never thought I was good enough, so I didn’t talk about it much, but I was fantastic.
Growing up, I participated in our school plays, musicals, pit orchestra, county choir, dance classes, talent shows and contests, you name it. When I could have some alone time, I would work on these intense thousand-piece puzzles on the floor in my room and have John Mayer’s ‘Continuum‘ and P!nk’s ‘Missundaztood‘ playing on repeat (my mother was OK with buying me this kind of music). I would be in the zone, at peace and focused, trying out different harmonies, ad-libs and variations of the background vocals on every song. I’d cry listening to “Stop this train…” and “In our family portrait…”
Even in her formative years, Yasmin‘s creativity knew no bounds. From composing songs in the margins of her papers to choreographing dances in front of the mirror, she embraced music as a means of expression and escape.
I wrote my own songs all the time, whenever the muse visited me. In the margins of my papers, in the shower, in the car on the way to violin lessons, whenever I had a burst of inspiration—and at night I would draw and write many poems in my journal, processing the things happening in my home environment. Music has always been my medicine. This got me through the worst of times and still does. I grew up listening to 97.1 WASH FM, which is what my mother would play in the car. And I’d find my older siblings’ hip-hop and rock CDs and would jam out to those when they weren’t around. I knew very young that I loved all kinds of music. I would dance for hours in front of the mirror creating choreography to my favourite songs (and I was on the dance floor at every school dance). City High’s 2001 self-titled album…Crime Mob’s ‘Hated on Mostly’ featuring “Circles“ was one of my top tracks to dance to when it came out in high school…I was also on the step team and took hip-hop classes…I remember a friend burning me a CD of 50 Cent in middle school and that was a big deal then. She put “Yazzy” on it in purple and it had a pink cover…I would play it when my mother wasn’t around.
I wrote these really sad ballads and love songs as a kid. There was one called “Silhouette” that was about a young man who died in a car accident and his experience with angels. Or another song about leaving the love of your life behind. The chorus goes: “What can I do without you / I love you so but I must go / And even though you love me too / just always know my love for you will grow.” Fast forward, to my freshman year in college, I was the recipient of a Music Performance Fellowship in Piano and Voice, still studying and performing classical music, meanwhile continuing to develop and hone my own writing. I can remember off the top of my head a reggae song I had worked on one day on the way to class: “Heal the world / you are my brother, my mother, my father, my sister / Heal the world / oh yeah, oh yeah…”
Despite facing setbacks and criticism, Yasmin remained steadfast in her pursuit of artistic expression. From winning spoken word contests to experimenting with rap, she continued to push the boundaries of her creativity.
I started performing more spoken word my senior year and would spend hours writing and memorizing my pieces. That spring I won a spoken word contest in Baltimore. I was starting to do more pop and hip-hop as well. I really wanted to try rapping. My last semester I did a series of videos on YouTube that were hilarious versions of classic hip-hop records using my raps instead. In them, I would spit on campus life. They were super goofy, and it was a test run for me.
After I returned from working abroad for a while and was living in DC, I was so excited to finally work on my first real EP in the studio. That’s a long story, but I grinded every day after work in the booth trying to get the best takes with the most passion and emotion. I cried quite a bit in that lil cubby. I knew exactly what I wanted each song to sound like and worked meticulously alongside my producer. “Add a clip of birds sweetly chirping here in the intro like this…” and “Pause it, I want to add a harmony here…” We were a good team because he seemed to respect my craft, and I absolutely respected him. That project was inspired by the 90s hip-hop and R&B that I grew up with. I sang about my family, I rapped about abuse and things I’ve been through in life, womyn empowerment, going to the club–I had no inhibitions. I was really exploring myself, and my identity. And I was having so much fun and healing, too! I was ostracized by both friends and family, humiliated and put down, because of the EP. I went through a lot of inner turmoil due to this. I let doubt creep in, listening to what others said about me and my art. Looking back, I get that people will always find some way to put you down, laugh and belittle you, and make you question whether you’re worthy. Whether it’s making fun of my vibrato, my rapping, my dress, my dancing, you name it…I didn’t see it then, I was so worried about being less than, but I understand it now.
An artist is someone who isn’t afraid to venture into the unknown. If they are afraid, they do it anyway. An artist is fluid. An inner-explorer. And the more genres, styles and mediums one uses, the better they are! It’s all about gaining more experience and furthering personal development. Pushing boundaries. Creative freedom.
Yasmin‘s resilience was put to the test as she navigated the challenges of the music industry. Despite setbacks and disappointments, she remained committed to her vision and the power of collaboration in the studio.
When it came down to it, unfortunately, the studio I used for my first EP was a scam, and after that, I had a series of difficult lessons I went through in the music industry. I performed quite a bit through the DC area and won a contest to open for Young Thug on the road. That one’s a fun story.
I opened with a great set and a very receptive audience at this massive college show. I used to always start my set with a spoken word piece about femininity and empowerment. I got through only a few lines when I saw the president of the university in the audience, standing close to the stage, making a gesture with his hands to security. His eyes were so wide and glued to me. I could see he was not a happy camper. Before I knew it, a man rushed me on stage, (how should I put this…) telling me forcefully that I can’t mention a woman’s reproductive organs. I was shocked. Mind you, I was allowed to curse…This is a college show with Young Thug performing, who is most definitely using profanity and expletives, it’s in all his music, rapping about women… I shrugged off the security, continued my set, and the crowd cheered. I began my first song, “That’s Me.” Without warning, I was suddenly dragged off stage, even though I was silent on where I normally rap that word in the song. I still have the video of all this. The security grabbed me, physically assaulting me. I fought to return to the stage but was overpowered. The crowd booed loudly. The audience called me to come back but I wasn’t allowed. I was the only female performer of the night, and I’m not allowed to rap freely? About my own body? I saw later that night the president of the school posing on Instagram with his adolescent grandson, smiling ear to ear, next to Young Thug. And what do you think Young Thug was rapping about in his set? Exactly. I never forgot that one.
I’ve worked with several engineers and producers. Most were morons. Talented with potential, but no follow through. Focused on the wrong things. I’ve recorded in studios from DC to New Mexico to Jamaica. I had always hoped to have a professional partnership with an engineer/producer similar to Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s relationship. The idea was that I would write my songs, give the context and vision to my engineer, and we would make everything together. I can hear the music in my mind, all the pieces I want to put together, but I’m really not interested in sitting in front of a computer for hours on end doing that kind of tedious work all on my own. At the end of the day, I’d rather just write my songs at my piano and let them be.
CM: Your Persian-American background is a unique aspect of your identity. How has your Persian heritage influenced the melodies or themes in your music, especially in the context of “Ménager La Chèvre Et Le Chou“?
If you’re familiar at all with Persian culture and our heritage, you’ll hear it echoed in my words and my voice. There’s a longing, a resilience, and a deep passion for life that you just can’t make up. Think of the Sufi-inspired music of Azam Ali and Niyaz, Shirin Neshat’s visual art, or the well-known stories of Marjane Satrapi. Even in my English lyrics, my Persian depth of experience shines. There are things we all go through that unite us. In this case, heartbreak and its trauma, and then reaching the other side, is one of those things. There’s faith. And love. Our connection to the mystical, the otherworldly, to All There Is and that ancient part of ourselves that forever lives on. We welcome, feel, and relish it all. All of what makes us human and inherently godly, too. That is the old Persian way.
The title of the album is an old French idiom about a wolf, and needing to bring a goat and cabbage across the river in a boat, without either getting eaten. Today, it’s used as an expression meaning having to play two sides of an issue or appease two parties. Life has been a balancing act, how to survive amidst adversity, especially as a young person. Man, high school was so tough. French is important for its legacy in Iran (my father), and the fact that my mother (American) also studied French in high school. I also chose the idiom for the album title because I grew up on a road called Cabbage Spring; cabbages were always a theme in my life, Cabbage Patch Kids, etc. My rising sign (ascendant) is Capricorn, the sea goat, and Wolf has shaped my life in many ways, more ways than I can write here. The idiom was too perfect, and accurately reflects how I had to fight and survive growing up.
CM: Femme Fatale DC began as a response to degrading remarks in the music industry. How has this initiative shaped your own artistic resilience, and have you noticed changes in the industry since?
During COVID, I started working with an established Iranian engineer and producer. I thought I had finally found my place. Maybe I just needed to work with another Persian artist, and that was what was missing all along. I worked on many songs, writing and singing hooks in English, and another artist on our team rapped in Farsi on the verses. I expressed how serious this was to me, to make this my future, and we agreed to make it happen. He said he was my brother.
Despite initial optimism, Yasmin‘s collaboration took an unexpected turn when her artistic autonomy was challenged.
One day, out of the blue, he turned to me and said I was going to have to start listening to his demands and follow his orders, like wearing high heels and dresses he prefers. I laughed out loud thinking he must be kidding; we had already spent months working together, he knew what kind of artist I am, and certainly, I am too independent and self-motivated to participate in this tomfoolery. No, he was serious and just looked at me blankly, awaiting my agreement. I get where he’s coming from…this is how it goes. I did learn a lot and it was a good experience…and I’m very happy I’m not playing the bimbo in some obscure music video right now lmao.
I am so tired of men in the music business telling me I’m not good enough, “suggesting” what I “should” work on instead of my own passions, and only encouraging whatever they want to hear, whatever they think will make money. Riding my coattails and taking advantage of my successes. You can imagine I got fed up and welcomed the opportunity to work on my own music without any outside influence. I’m not selling an image. This is me and my work, that’s it. This and my last album were my way of telling the world “What you see is what you get,” don’t get it twisted. I don’t know anyone who has released such moving music, so real and raw. I know I’m unique and my art is special. I make genuine art from my heart, and will solely work with people who support my creativity. Pretty simple.
CM: Alaska is known for its breathtaking landscapes. How has the shift from the urban environment of DC to the vastness of Alaska influenced your creative process, especially when working on such an intimate album?
All these songs were written around COVID times. I have something like two hundred songs on my phone that I wrote over a three year period. It wasn’t until moving to Alaska that I could listen back to them and find order, formulating a plan to release a selection of them. This album and my prior release both still bring me to tears. When I was deciding how to publish them, originally I thought I would go back to the piano and re-record them thoroughly polished and professionally done. I’m very happy I chose to release them as is instead. What you’re listening to on this album is me as I was writing and singing these songs for the very first time at my piano, when the energy is most intense.
I’m going to take my time towards working in the studio again. I’m in no rush. But I do want these songs to live and breathe in the world, not be trapped on my phone like a genie in a lamp. Who knows what I’ll be inspired to create next? I’m getting an upright piano next month and will be working towards a recital of original songs. I’m sure living in Alaska will inspire new work.
Yasmin’s anticipation of future creative endeavours in Alaska hints at the transformative power of nature and personal experiences in shaping her musical expression.
The magpies and ravens are most special. Then there’s the moose casually in your driveway just hanging out. I’ve had the great pleasure of travelling throughout the state and am mesmerized by her natural beauty.
I came to Alaska after having a dream that rocked my world. My grandmother was ill, I knew she would be passing soon, and I had also started dreaming about my grandfather who had helped build the ALCAN in WWII. He was also stationed along the Aleutians with the Army Corps of Engineers. The dream I had was of myself and this giant, mythical White Wolf together in the tundra. I use this dream now in my dream-work course. I’ll briefly share the summary.
In the dream, my character was reminiscent of Kore (post-Underworld, known as Persephone) holding a fresh cornucopia of fruits and vegetables. I gave it to the wolf. We bowed to each other, and in exchange, he offered me his heart. It emerged from his chest with these beautiful red and black geometric pieces. I accepted, and we parted ways, with him bowing to me once more, then quickly running into a hole in the ice. Then I woke up.
Yasmin‘s interpretation of her dream reveals layers of personal symbolism and emotional resonance, enriching her creative narrative with depth and complexity.
There are many ways to interpret this dream. I usually start with the Greek myth of Persephone and Hades, myself representing Spring and youth, and the wolf representing Winter and death. These two parts of myself were coming into union. This was an incredibly powerful dream.
I knew I would be moving to Alaska, and when the opportunity presented itself, I did not hesitate. I share all this with you to say, that being here in Alaska is very special to me. I have a deep respect for Alaska Native Peoples and how they have cared for and preserved their homeland and cultures, and I am so grateful to be here.
CM: Can you walk us through your typical songwriting process? Do you have a specific routine or approach?
Sometimes I start with the chords, choosing the key first and then finding a melody at the piano, seeing what I come up with. Other times I’ll wake up from a dream with a melody, or be inspired by something on a walk outside, and suddenly a song comes to me as if I downloaded it from the earth. Then, I’ll sit at the piano and figure out the rest of the music. In my previous album, ‘Mettre Son Cœur À Nu‘, I included the song “Save Her.” In my current release, I share the piano music I wrote to “Save Her” (under the same title).
She elaborates…
Sometimes I have so many records in my head to write down, I quickly record several songs with their corresponding chords, as skeletons, then later return to each song to write the rest of the music. In this process, I found that I actually enjoy the bare-bones versions immensely. I’d listen to them on repeat over and over. The songs on this album feel more visceral in their raw, unedited form. Sometimes when a song isn’t polished, the deeper emotions come through effortlessly, and it’s much easier to feel what the artist is communicating. Or like the accidental dog barking in the background at exactly the right moment. I adore it. I also wanted to sprinkle some piano solos throughout the album as well, hence “Gone,” “Not a Myth” and “A Wish.” These three songs are actually full verse melodies, I just chose to include a taste of the piano instead. “Gone” goes something like this: “A real man knows when it’s time to cry / he feels his emotions and he ain’t afraid to die / Where have all the real men gone? / A grown man knows when he’s had enough / He’d never let his pride destroy his love / Where have all the grown men gone?”
CM: How do you find inspiration for your lyrics and melodies? Are there any specific sources or experiences that influence your songwriting?
It took a long time to find the love of my life. A lot of my music revolves around my search to find my life partner. I suppose Ferdowsi, Rumi and Hafez influenced that. Other songs are about my experiences in life, from my childhood to the passing of my grandmother last year. And some songs take a more story-like approach inspired by authors who have impacted my growth tremendously as a human being and as a woman. Think Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Joseph Campbell and Michael Meade, as a few examples. In my dream-work classes, I explore universal archetypes and relate those to the dreams we have at night. I place readers in the stories of myths and fairytales, and we explore what each character represents inside us. It is the same with understanding the characters in our dreams. We dig deep into metaphors and symbolism. All over the planet, children grow up with the stories of their people, educating them about the dangers of the world and the ways of the psyche, how our inner and outer worlds reflect one another. My love for storytelling and my passion for writing music are inexplicably related.
Yasmin‘s reflections on her musical influences and personal experiences offer a profound insight into the transformative power of music as a vehicle for self-expression and introspection.
A close friend of mine recently asked me to share some tips on songwriting for beginners, and I thought this would be a great opportunity to share with you all as well. First, get relaxed. Be open. Make sure your environment is conducive to exploring yourself through music and writing. Turn on your Voice Memo or audio recorder app. Start singing whatever you feel. It’s like free-writing but with your voice instead. Don’t judge! Let out whatever you need to. Chances are, you’ll stumble on a melody you really love, and you’ll find yourself humming it over and over. Or, start talking slowly out loud into the recorder about something in your life that is meaningful or pressing. Is there an issue you’re struggling with? Try singing some of the words you feel deeply. If there’s something you said that struck you– turn it into song. Make it a melody and don’t stop, keep going. I always tell folks, we are ALL artists. We are all vocalists. All our ancestors sang in their traditional ways. Don’t limit yourself to the standards of what society says singing is today. After a good cry, when you’ve had a deep release, try writing and singing about it. See what happens. Why not? It will be healing.
The next time you go on a walk in nature, really pay attention to your surroundings. When you see something striking, sing about it. Just make it up! That’s all there is to it. It feels so amazing when I finish a song and reflect on what inspired it, and now I have this beautiful piece of art. That’s a really empowering moment.
CM: You’ve explored various genres of music, how has this diverse musical background influenced your approach to creating the raw, honest sound we hear in your recent album?
I love exploring different genres and challenging myself. When COVID happened and I was isolated like everyone else, I really dove into my musical world and let myself write whatever I was feeling in that moment. I’ve had so many personas, so many different jobs, I’ve lived among many cultures–with this music, it’s like I dropped all the masks, all the layers, and got right down to the core of my emotion. I went back to the beginning. To my childhood. To the difficult things that have shaped who I am. I wanted this album to have a child-like quality, that eerie black-and-white juxtaposition and princess-like surrealness…I know this stuff so well and always have since I was very small. I know how to get to the heart of things; this was my whole world as a kid. Understanding and reflecting on why my family and society were the way it was. What was left to find as an adult when I’ve travelled the world already? Back to the source of it all.
As a dream worker and Usui Reiki Master, how do dreams and spiritual practices intersect with your music creation? Are there instances where dreams have directly influenced a song or its atmosphere?
Music and spirituality are interconnected, one does not exist without the other. When I get feedback from a friend who put a video of themselves in nature to one of my songs… these little things mean the world to me. I can’t explain it so well in words, it’s the feeling. People who feel, they get it. People who aren’t afraid of their own depths, of where their emotions might take them, where their dreams at night lead them, they get it. There’s an authenticity that comes with combining one’s spirituality and creating art. I revel in the centre of its beautiful tangles. This is true artistry. There’s nothing wrong, absolutely, with trying to make the next hit single and studying all the formulas, learning the ropes, and all that. But when you listen back to it alone at night, it’s hollow. And it will eat away at you. Some part of you will cry to express itself genuinely, and the more you ignore that voice, the louder it will get. When you practice inner knowing, and continue to find yourself, the art will come out all on its own.
Can you share an anecdote or challenge you faced during the recording process that ultimately contributed to the album’s uniqueness?
These songs were all recorded live on my phone’s Voice Memo app, propped up beside me on my piano. It meant so much to me to create this album raw and real. No b.s., no politics, no one telling me to change this or that, no unsolicited advice, no prejudice–it was liberating. I wanted my true, inner voice to shine through without any fluff. The simplicity of the recording process mirrors the music: the spaces between the chords, the emptiness filled with emotion. On the song “Little Bird,” for example, you can hear me starting to cry. I wrote that song for a dear friend’s birthday. Another good friend of mine, Bill Palmer, mixed and mastered the songs to add that final touch of glue, bringing the album together masterfully.
CM: How would you describe the energy and atmosphere of your live performances? What do you hope audiences take away from your shows?
I haven’t done a live performance in a while, but I’ll tell you I always make folks cry. I have a collection of short songs, I call them “prayer songs,” and I love performing those. A few years ago I had done this Buddhist silent meditation retreat, but I was surprised that at the end, they held a talent show/sharing. My heart was beating so fast, I remember it so well. The monks were asking if anyone else wanted to share, it was winding down. I finally raised my hand. I was called to present. I sang “Heart Song,” about a minute long, and had my eyes closed the whole time:
In the sound of silence, I find myself awaiting the call to love
But when I look a little deeper within, what I call my heart, I see I didn’t honor her truth
There were things in my childhood that I never really understood but now I see them in my own life
Come on just wear a mask and smile, don’t ask any questions, and you’ll be loved
Don’t show yourself, don’t let them see
There’s so much more than what you think you could be
But don’t let them in, what if they see something wrong?
Will they love you anyway?
This is my Heart Song
When I opened my eyes, my voice still echoed throughout the hall, and I was surprised to see everyone in tears. Afterwards, several people passed me notes thanking me for the song. That was so incredible. It meant so much for me to share such a personal song with this group. Out of all the performances I’ve done in my life, this was my favourite of all. So intimate, I hope you feel that same genuine love and self-expression personified in this album, too.
CM: Can you share a sneak peek or hint about any upcoming projects or surprises that we can anticipate?
I plan to release some short stories, poetry and lyrics to unpublished songs sometime soon. I hope to have a recital of new original music this summer or the fall.
That was a fascinating discussion, where we discovered the raw, rare, and real essence of Yasmin Radbod‘s music, deeply influenced by her Persian heritage, personal experiences, and creative resilience.
Don’t forget to check out her previous album, ‘Mettre Son Cœur À Nu‘, exclusively on vinyl and signed by her, available at Mammoth Music and Obsession Records in Anchorage, Alaska.
“Ménager La Chèvre Et Le Chou” is out now on all streaming platforms.
TRACKS:
