What is this "mermaid music" I'm creating in Bali?

What is Mermaid Music, or “Mermaid Prayers” as I’m naming this project I’m creating. Why bother hauling heavy music equipment across the planet to a black sand beach where I sit at a desk on cliff overlooking the ocean, day after day, welcoming new songs into the world. I’m really just a musical midwife now. The songs are coming and I guide them in through the body to the light.


Little girls inside of me have a need to express themselves and feel safe doing so. I’m here for them. I’m showing up for them everyday, clearing a space for them to play and grow everyday, holding them in my chest and listening to them deeply everyday.

A woman ahead of me in time is nodding slowly, beckoning me towards her. Come this way she whispers and she tugs on the string that connects us, intuitively. She’s a vision in my future. She is who I become, who I step into. She is so confident, beautiful, elegant and flowing in her art. I’m enchanted by her completely so I keep moving towards her one day, one decision at a time. She’s so lovely.

A nerdy little mischievous creature shows up to the keys to press the buttons, play the noise! Make something rebellious, interesting, different, bizarre. Give them the goosebumpychills!

A spirit in my floats on this breeze. How does the song we craft open the channel for us to feel something we cannot reach with word or though?

I’m doing this to open my heart and throat. My voice is growing in strength and power. I hate how it feels to hold back. I feel a huge ocean of emotion that wants to squeeze through my tiny body, singing out through this throat, trickling out through these fingers. Something enormous is inside me (that’s what she said haha) and I feel the pressure build up. It feels better when I sing. It feels amazing when I pretend I’m a mermaid or a whale and start singing.

With every new strange sound I make I become less afraid of making sounds in general. The parts of me who fear sounding foolish, the parts who want to be perfect, the parts who judge my level of musical skill or lack there of…all of them become quiet as I make more sounds, sounds I’ve never made before. It’s like traveling to new places and finding myself more comfortable and confident wherever I go. As my mother has always said to me, “Wherever you go, you bring yourself.”

Now I understand.



Enough magical talk…here’s the nitty gritty of what I’m actually doing.

I sit on the floor in my bedroom on a towel. The tiles are uncomfortable. I drap a rainbow handkerchief that I picked up in Phuket, Thaildn, over the top of the Aston Spirit microphone, which is precariously balanced on the wooden bench at the end of the bed. The microphone is standing on a small portable tripod I picked up from Amazon before making this trip. I’m THRILLED to have a high quality microphone with me and to have it standing up on it’s own so I can sing with my eyes closed and get lost in sound space.

The computer is recording the whale sounds I’m singing this afternoon. I’m literally attempting to sound like a whale; hit the highest pitch notes I possibly can without damaging my vocal chords. I hear the whale in me singing out and I pull my voice down slowly until I sound human again. How smoothly can I transition from whale to human? It’s a slide down the vocal chords, like sliding your finger down the string of a guitar. I feel bad for my neighbors. It’s a sunny afternoon and they’re listening to a woman screeching in an adobe hut. Everyone complains about the roosters here. They’re cock-a-doodle-doing all day long. Maybe my voice just blends into the annoying nature soundscape.

I’m making up words. A part of me feels excited to sound like a spiritual chanting goddess from some exotic land. I sound a little African primal, a little aboriginal gutteral, a bit Indian shrill, a little elvish mystical, a little can’t put my finger on it. It’s weird. It’s awkward. It’s embarrassing. I’ve had moments of concerned…is this cultural appropriation? How can it be if I’m just a human making organic noises from my body? Nobody owns the sounds our bodies can make. The sounds I’m playing with also smell of potential. I’m curious, more curious everyday. Within a couple weeks I’ve already seen signifiant improvement in my comfort improvising sounds. I just sit down at the microphone and like fluid out of a vessel, the voice pours out with new unknown but deeply felt words.

I grew up listening to Enya. Her voice is a magical portal into the mystical realms. When I was a girl my mother casually mentioned that Enya was a badass who created her own music, all of it from scratch. This was why it was so difficult for her to perform. She was a one woman show. How true is this story? I don’t know. It stuck with me though. I’m laughing at myself now realizing how I have semi-consciously crafted myself into an Enya-like creator. My mom just called me “the new Enya” the other day on a text message. I won’t lie, it’s not a bad feeling to be compared to Enya, to witness my own art resembling hers. I’m a little surprised by myself actually. I can simultaneously say, “How did I get here?” and “I know exactly how I got here.”

When I’m not actively making music, I’m listening to whale sounds on Sony noise canceling headphones. I lay on my back in the jungle gym with the lights off. I drink honey, lemon, ginger tea with my feet propped up in the restaurant. I’m reading books about freediving in bed beneath the white mosquito net. Whale sounds playing the entire time. Nothing like these whale sounds seems to have the almost immediate power of drawing me into the deepest places on earth, deepest space inside myself. I click play, pop on the headphones, and BOOM I’m in the water world.

I started wanting to improvise singing like a human sound healer. Quickly inspired, I started channeling the energy of the mermaids. Now, I’m practicing singing like whales. What next? Beatboxing with crustacean sounds?

I went snorkeling yesterday with my GoPro and chased away some bright yellow fish. I ate chocolate and watched a torrential rainstorm rolled in.

Sidenote: If you’re going to spit in your diving mask (to coat the lenses so they don’t fog up underwater), make sure you don’t have chocolate melted in your mouth. I learned this one the nasty way and caught the learning moment on camera. haha

I spent the rest of the rainy afternoon and evening eating hummus and carrot sticks, eating more chocolate and reading a book about mermaids. I’m making a numbered list of mermaid ‘facts’ and characteristics that I’ll use as inspiration for my upcoming songs and creative persona. So far I have 24 bullet points, 24 ways the next song(s) will be influenced by mermaid lore. I’ll share that later this week as I fine tune it.

Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde