At first glance, Marie Awadis and Snorri Hallgrímsson don’t have much in common. Awadis was born in Lebanon and grew up amidst civil war before moving to Germany and beginning a career in Europe, while Snorri grew up in a suburb of Reykjavik and was schooled in the Icelandic choral tradition. Awadis was influenced by Armenian folk harmonies and melodies during her youth, while the teenage Snorri learned classical guitar and fell in love with film soundtracks. Awadis studied at the Lebanese National Conservatory in Beirut and Hanover’s Hochschule für Musik und Theater; Snorri learned his craft at the Iceland Academy of the Arts and the USA’s Berklee College of Music.
Yet a closer look reveals how these two musicians from very different parts of the world are connected by a shared love of classical music and a passion for creating compositions that have touched listeners and live audiences across the globe. As they release their debut recordings for the Deutsche Grammophon label—the Études Mélodiques album for Awadis, the Longer Shadows, Softer Stones EP for Snorri—we brought the pair together to compare and contrast their respective musical journeys so far…
Can you first say a few words about where you were born and perhaps share a childhood memory or two?
MA: I was born in Lebanon, into an Armenian family. One of my most vivid memories is of the almost-nightly rehearsals, either at our home or my grandmother’s. There was always music, with different artists coming to practise and prepare for concerts. I also remember when I got my first upright piano. It was a Petrof, and I was filled with unimaginable joy. From that day on, the piano became my daily companion, a place where I could share my thoughts or create stories and dive into another world. I practised every day after school, before doing my homework. Practising was a priority for me.
SH: I was born in Reykjavík, Iceland and grew up in a quiet suburb of the capital. I was a very nerdy kid who didn’t really fit in with most of the other kids but looking back it was still a pretty idyllic childhood. I can’t find any specific memories but I have this nostalgic feeling of constantly being active: walking home from school to pick up my guitar, walking to the music school, coming home, getting ready for basketball practice, coming home to eat dinner, practice guitar… sleep, rinse, repeat…
At what age did you become more formally involved in music, and what was the process that led you there?
MA: Music wasn’t something I consciously decided to pursue; it was simply a part of my life from the beginning. Our home was always filled with music, and there was a joy in creating it. My father and uncles were self-taught musicians, which was quite common then, especially with folk and traditional music. My father could pick up any instrument and learn to play it by ear in just a few weeks. According to my parents, as a child, I had a toy piano and would sing and play with it. Perhaps that’s why my father first tried to encourage me through singing. But when I started piano lessons and was introduced to European classical music, I was fascinated by it. It was so different from the daily band rehearsals I was used to. By the time I was 12 or 13, I knew I wanted to pursue music, particularly the piano, and I’ve stuck to that decision ever since.
SH: I grew up in a musical family: my grandma was a piano teacher, my parents met in a choir, and I have three older sisters who all studied different instruments: piano, cello, voice, even the harpsichord. So I was surrounded by music from the very beginning. Thanks to my parents we had hundreds of classical music vinyl records at home, including kid-friendly ones like Peter and the Wolf and Tubby the Tuba (an all-time classic!). So when I was about five or six, it wasn’t so much a question of whether I wanted to go to music school, but rather which instrument I wanted to learn how to play. I said guitar, probably thinking about cool rock guitarists I’d seen on MTV, not knowing I’d spend the next 15 years and beyond polishing my nails for the classical guitar.
A few years down the line, realising how much I was into music, my mom decided it would be useful for me to know my way around the piano as well. I didn’t really have any interest in it, and for the four or five years I studied it the guitar was always the priority. Of course the irony is that as an adult, I barely touch the guitar and have made a career at the piano despite being technically a terrible pianist. But I think there’s a reason for it. Classical music training for all its benefits can be a rigid box that’s hard to break out of, so in many ways I feel like it’s much easier for me to be creative at the piano where I never really learned which “rules” not to break. Whereas when I play guitar, which I still enjoy every now and then, technical perfectionism takes over.
Which music or composers did you first discover or were excited by—and why?
MA: When you start learning the piano, the first pieces you typically play are by Bach, some early Mozart, and simple Beethoven compositions. That wasn’t my favourite part. But I remember falling in love with Bach’s polyphonic ideas when I started playing his three-voice inventions and the Suite Française. Then I discovered Chopin, who became an emotional soulmate; playing his pieces made me feel less alone with my own emotions. Years later, I encountered Brahms, Debussy, Ravel, and Rachmaninoff—all of whom significantly shaped my classical background.
SH: Apart from Tubby the Tuba, my first real musical love was Led Zeppelin. Introduced to me by my stepmom in my early teens, I pretty much fell in love right away. As a guitarist, hearing this music was just blissful. Soon enough, I had my first electric guitar and spent one summer studying and picking up by ear every single guitar solo on every single Zeppelin song, even starting a Led Zeppelin cover band with some friends. In the band I was both JImmy Page and Robert Plant, which earned a nerdy kid at least a couple of cool points at school—at least with a few middle-aged teachers. And yes, I did have long hair and no, you cannot see pictures.
What are your memories of your very first live performances?
MA: I remember singing with my dad’s band when I was five years old, the rehearsals with the band, and the hours spent with him, learning how to act and sing. As for my piano performances, being on stage was always fun for me. I could feel the audience’s energy, and each performance was different— different stage, different piano, different audience. I was always curious about how each performance would turn out and how the energy in the room would develop.
SH: The truth is that I’ve had very few, apart from countless music school recitals as a kid. I’m an introvert at heart, and so in some ways I feel more at ease creating by myself in the studio rather than playing in front of people. So with my own music it’s something I haven’t really prioritised until now. It also doesn’t help that a lot of my music is written for big ensembles, multiple pianos etcetera. But my very first live performance of my own music I think was a Sofar show in Reykjavík, a few months before I released my first album. I honestly had no idea what I was doing (still don’t), and a lot of things went wrong. Technical issues, mistakes, a whole lot of nerves. I’m not very proud of how it turned out, but I’m still grateful to have had that experiment. You live and you learn.
What influences you outside of classical music or music generally?
MA: I grew up listening to a variety of genres, from folk to jazz and pop. I believe music existed long before our classical history, and it began with people in villages singing about their lives. I grew up listening to a variety of genres—jazz artists like Bill Evans, Chet Baker, and Billie Holiday; indie pop bands like Radiohead, Archive and Massive Attack. I also love Björk, Jóhann Jóhannsson, Anouar Brahem, and Tigran Hamasyan. There’s so much to explore, and even if I don’t use these influences directly, they help me expand my creative thinking.
SH: I’m pretty much an omnivore when it comes to music: I’ve gone from Led Zeppelin to 80s electronic to current pop to sacred choral music to hip hop and everything in between. The last couple of years I’ve listened a lot to Latin music, mainly to warm up the rainy and snowy Reykjavík days. And of course I’ve been heavily inspired by all kinds of film music ever since I was a teenager. I’m also blessed with having ridiculously talented friends, and nothing inspires me more than seeing my friends perform. Outside of music, I’ve been quite vocal about my battles with depression and general disillusion, and on a good day I’m able to channel that into creativity. And of course my music is influenced by the everyday ups and downs of life that we all feel. Love, friends, family, politics…as an Icelandic composer I’m trying hard to avoid the stereotype and not say nature but maybe I’ll add that in small letters at the very end.
What is your best experience with music to date?
MA: Most of my concert experiences have been positive and exciting, but two stand out. Earlier this year, I was invited to play at Yellow Lounge alongside Daniel Hope. I was incredibly nervous because I felt a deep responsibility to give my absolute best. But the team was so well-organised, and everyone was so friendly and loving that by the time I stepped on stage, I felt at home, like playing for friends. Another memorable experience was a few months ago, playing at the "Festival of the Sun," organised by Rick Rubin in Italy. Despite plane delays which made me miss my soundcheck and arrive just before a concert, the warmth of the community and the audience was truly heartwarming.
SH: It’s extremely hard to name individual moments or events, but I will say that going to premieres of films I’ve scored always feels special (and nerve-wracking). To sit alongside the people you worked with, who’ve all poured their hearts and souls into a project and are there celebrating together and experiencing the fruit of their labour. And of course hearing your music via the full glory of a great cinema audio system. I also want to mention the small, everyday moments when I’m working on something by myself in the studio and realise I’m creating something that actually moves me. I think those moments are ultimately what keep me going.
In what ways do your upcoming DG releases reflect you personally?
MA: My new album is about growth and trusting the process, even when you’re unsure of the outcome. It all started with the decision to stop hiding myself, my music, and to stay true to my own creative path. I’ve never felt that I fit neatly into any genre, but I’ve realised that’s okay as long as I stay true to my values. Musically, I wanted to create something I genuinely connected with. I love the different approaches to minimalism between American and European music. My Armenian and classical background naturally influenced me to combine these elements, adding a romantic, Chopin-esque emotional touch and an Armenian flair that I can’t ignore.
SH: Mine is a time capsule. The idea for it came during a residency in Nantes, France in 2022. I got to spend three weeks ignoring emails, social media, everyday obligations and just... create, without the pressure of having to deliver anything. My commute from my apartment to the studio was a 10-minute walk in the sun across the Loire. It was bliss, and the album’s opening track title “Three Week Cloud” refers to this experience, as it all felt like some sort of a fever dream. But life isn’t a forever vacation, and you come back to reality with all its highs and lows, which I’m grateful for. Certain world events in the last year or so have only made my disillusion grow bigger, but the presence and the memory of the “cloud” perhaps influenced me to deal with that in a more hopeful way, musically-speaking, than I have in the past. It’s simpler and sweeter-sounding than my previous work. My own personality is usually hopeful and silly but simultaneously somehow full of despair...maybe this album reflects that somewhat.
Is there something musically that you haven’t done yet but would still like to achieve?
MA: I’m eager to create, learn, and collaborate with other artists. Besides solo piano compositions, I’ve always had a passion for piano-cello pieces, and I’d love to create more and possibly perform with artists. I’m also passionate about composing for chamber ensembles or orchestras—an exciting challenge. I love working with dance companies as well. There are no limits to my creative aspirations, and I hope to achieve these dreams one by one. Who knows what’s next!
SH: Yes of course, and I hope I will always feel that way. Exactly what that is, is harder to say, but I feel like I’ve only touched the surface. One of the reasons why I love film scoring is that it forces you out of your comfort zone: you simply have to produce music that’s right for the film or series and aligns with the director’s vision, regardless if you’ve never made that type of music before. It makes me grow as a composer, as an artist, and learn all kinds of things I otherwise wouldn’t have. And what I particularly like is to then let the new things I’ve just learned influence my solo work, which inherently becomes richer for it.
If you didn’t go into music, what do you think you would be doing now instead?
MA: I’ve been immersed in music since childhood—first as a pianist and then shifting into composition, where I’ve truly found my home. Sometimes I wonder what I would do if music didn’t work out, but I’ve never found an answer because I insist on sticking to my musical creativity. If I were to consider an alternative, it would definitely be something creative. If not music, perhaps conducting or dancing, drawing or design—but music is where my heart lies.
SH: In some ways I feel like I never had a choice but to become a musician. After I finished my guitar studies, I had a brief rebellious period where I studied history but quickly realised academic life wasn’t for me. And as soon as I was back studying music, composition this time, there was no turning back. But probably I’d be in some sort of social work or community building. Or a documentary filmmaker. Or a tennis commentator. Your guess is as good as mine.
