Izmedu
Gdica Snjez - "Heal"
Trigramme: IZM
Language: English, Izmeduan
Music: Gdica Snjez, Cvita Snjez
Lyrics: Gdica Snjez
Tune: Tamara Todevska - Proud
“I'll be honest with you, I've probably spent more of my career trying to prove and justify to myself and to others why I'm still even doing this. No matter how much I succeed, that little voice in my head will always tell me I'm not enough. Things in life are going to confirm that little voice and sometimes, that voice wins out. I've seen it happen to so many artists that sometimes, being in this music industry feels like seeing a long list of names that disappear into the ether never to heard be from again. They're all broken down, overworked, made to feel guilty if they don't do enough, and spat out without any mercy. I've been through that and I was one of the few to remain intact, but I was lucky. Yet even then... It's never gone away, and I write this song for them. That broken down singer, down on their luck and at the edge of giving up. It's what I wished I heard...” - Gdica Snjez
The world is a crazy place... thought Gdica Snjez in a calm afternoon at her residence.
She could only stroke the piano keys with a certain tinge of regret and sadness. Writer's block returned to prevent her from making any discernible melody, or even start with a single note. She gazed out into the window, the Izmeduan weather only faintly overcast hints of gray skies. There was a report from earlier that speculated that it was due to rain either tomorrow or throughout the week, depending on how patterns shook out. She sighed as she crossed her arms, only playing a single chord and not feeling any single melody come to her mind. If anything, Gdica's mind was elsewhere. Her mind wandered to the rumors she heard from her record label just earlier. The new artists that were recently signed were suddenly not appearing to label meetings, becoming unresponsive. The crop before them were deemed to be 'disappointing,' with label management being forthcoming that 'more promising artists needed to be signed.'
Her heart reached out for those new artists. Some names she recognized, some names she didn't. Yet, no matter how familiar she was with them, she could only find a strong sympathy for their plight. Gdica laid her hand on one chord, playing it over and over softly, looking over her shoulder to make sure that her sister Cvita wasn't nearby. She played that chord over and over, doing so in soft intervals as her mind recounted a long experience of being in that position... When she was the first to put the Snjez family's name into the Izmeduan music industry, paving the way for her younger sister to take the fold. She remembered the pressure, the feeling of precarity, the feeling that one second that her career could be wiped out... Or the feeling that, no matter how hard she fought, her career was over before it began. She knew and tried to heed the warnings. The Izmeduan music industry was a meat grinder from the legends to the newbies. It was merciless, sometimes incestuous, benefits some disproportionately, and pushes so many into a proverbial (and sometimes literal) abyss.
Gdica, through pure luck and dogged determination, prevailed alongside her sister. But she knew that determination came at so many costs. These were years spent on precarity, years spent on fretting and worrying, the inadvertent health and stress problems that were brought on, and a feeling that even her current fortune would all be wiped in a second. Gdica kept and lingered at that chord, the only relief from these emotions being that she had a foundation of a song to build off on. These memories and these conditions had led her to now have something to say. As to what?... Gdica knew, subconsciously, the kind of theme that she wanted to work upon. What she needed was more time to think, precious time she needed to figure out how to squeeze around the myriad of projects and appearances that were booked in both the near and distant future.
The death of a fellow artist, even for someone that not many in the label were familiar with, was beyond swallowing bitter pills or acceptances. It was a shock to the system that was inconceivable, with no right way to react or respond.
Gdica knew that artist's name when she went into the building with her sister, Cvita. The mood was somber, a hollow emptiness that caused the usual buzz of management and recording activity to be left in a standstill. The circumstances surrounding that artist's death and that day's events were a whirlwind in Gdica's mind. She could barely remember what happened except being told in the office and going home with her sister, not many being forthcoming with the details for understandable reasons. Gdica remembered his name, Patrik Mauzer. He was one of the brand new artists brought onto the label after being scouted in an online search. Patrik was a popular covers artist who began to catch viral fire for his unique delivery on popular Izmeduan songs. That clout was enough for him to begin writing songs independently and seek out opportunities, one of which was the record label that Gdica belonged to.
It all seemed like a storybook fairytale beginning to a career that should've been prosperous. Gdica remembered the fete and press release parties that involved the signing of Patrik and another artist. Almost consistently, she noticed a pattern of being distant and forced happiness, as if Patrik was trying to force himself to go through the motions. He would rarely speak unless he was prompted to, a far cry from his persona in his cover videos. He seemed emotionally distant, not wanting to speak to anyone, almost despondent. Gdica and the young singer only had a brief interaction, one where she remembered hugging him briefly as a congratulatory measure. She had only seen him a scant few times, considering that most of their work in this industry was done independently. From there, he almost existed as an artist within the label in silence. There would always be whispers of his imminent debut, a potential that was 'this close' to blossoming. It was potential that was never realized.
His death was sudden, almost swift. It hit the label with no warning. There was nary an explanation to be given, only an instructions to go back home and either work on new music or take a break. Instead of reflection, the whole label treated it as an period to be quickly repressed and forgotten. There was no time of mourning. This handling and quick repression of an artist's death is what sparked Gdica to not only truly think about the implications of a singer's career in this country, but to continue forth writing that song she had in heard precisely about this. She had a feeling of what happened to Patrik Mauzer, but she didn't dare talk about it out loud. She could only redirect the feeling of grief, even if it was for a stranger, the anger towards her label, and that sense of loss that could've been prevented.
Sickening, but not surprising. Gdica felt as if that phrase was becoming only more and more true as she spent more days working as a singer.
“I like the song, Gdica... But are you sure this is going to be a good idea to send to you know... them?”
“It doesn't have to be. I could always just keep it on reserve,” Gdica said to her sister, rummaging through the music program they were using to create the orchestral demo.
Cvita Snjez, the aforementioned sister, shrugged and kept plugging along. It was weird hearing Gdica's vocals being modulated in the rough demo they were creating. It was usually par for the course that both sisters would work on their material independently, meaning that neither really produced each other's songs or did collaborations with each other. Cvita was used to producing pop bangers and dance tracks, maybe some ballads in occasion, but Gdica's song was another kind of track entirely... She hadn't seen Gdica put this much personal conviction or pathos in her work for years, especially with the albums that she was contractually obligated to pursue. She was intimately involved in each and every step, listening to the way her voice contoured to the music, figuring out what notes needed to be made soft and belted, and even down to modifying the lyrics bit by bit throughout the demo stage.
They were gonna need a real orchestra for this at this rate, Cvita knew that for sure. And even if it cost money, she was glad.
For the first time in many years, Cvita saw a raw fire and determination in her sister's eyes.
The World Hit Festival, from submitting the entry at the last minute, the whirlwind surrounding the channel, and the circumstances behind the channel boardrooms that led to performing in Kyvivre was something that Gdica didn't want to contemplate. All she knew now was that she had this chance to perform. She never made this song for a contest, she wasn't even sure she had any intention to release the song to the outside public. It was a return to what she longed for. A return to the production of music that was untethered by the forces of needing to survive, of needing an audience. It was a return to the innocence that she knew would never come back. This song was as much her plea to the singers that were lost and down just as much as it is for herself.
This was not just an anthem for those who left, but for those who have been turned away, those who were lost along the way. This was a plea for those unwritten and unheard stories of those who were this close, but were left in the abyss. For Gdica, they mattered too, even if she knew that those singers were now left anonymous and obscure. If for 3 minutes, she can give them in any sort of comfort or solace in their worlds, for which they were more used to silence and apathy, then perhaps that was a good first step. She knew she wasn't going to be a panacea. She knew that this was only a gesture from the side of luck. Yet... She still kept on, bore on even despite the current of fear, failure, and paranoia.
She knew, deep inside, that she needed this as well.
Stage lights billowed down to the center of the stage in the Arenakyvivre. The crowd cheer only caused Gdica's breath to hitch as she closed her eyes, hearing the faint effects that preceded the beginning of her entry. She stood alone on that stage, right at the very center. With only a line microphone to her person, she knew exactly what kind of image she was going to project. She was a woman, standing and singing alone to the audience, hoping that her message would be caught from her voice and delivery alone. It was the kind of image that she knew had been deployed before from her own country. She nodded as she felt her in-ear ring with the cue that the music was set to begin. She gripped the microphone tightly, knowing that the gaze of 21,000 eyes in the arena and of millions through the television screen was due to appear soon. With one deep breath, she steeled herself and in her mind, she was right back at home with her piano... Playing this song in full for the first time.
The initial backing track was soft and sparse. The Arenakyvivre's stage was covered in an almost overwhelming darkness save for a single spotlight on Gdica herself. The crowd cheered had subsided by then, the camera making a tentative but careful survey of the stage. The backing track was a gentle series of chords on a piano, with each soft chord growing progressively but only slightly louder. After a bit, the camera would fade to a view of Gdica looking down with her eyes closed, her face finally revealed to the audiences at home in the arena. Her eyes would open, catching the camera's gaze. Her expression was fragile and gentle, yet also carried with it an undercurrent of pain. She's a woman with years behind her expression, having carried the weight of her world and her heart. As the camera inched closer to her, and the beginning of her singing was due, she put the microphone up to her mouth and began to sing...
Kor, I see your tired, dark, and weary eyes
You've been defeated and torn
Your faith's been shaken and you feel lost
And I know, I've been down that road too
Her voice was soft and yet husky, a comforting tone to her voice. Yet, it was laced with the weight of experience, a slight edge and heft to it that belied a maturity to it. The way she delivered these lines was deliberate, taking each and every syllable somewhat slowly and clearly. She gazed at the camera as if she was speaking to a close friend of hers, with the camera never letting up on this same view or fading to another. This entire verse was a close interaction between her and the audience she had imagined in her head. The instrumentation remained soft, only softly playing along to her soft and hushed vocals. She reached a fragile arm towards that camera, another hand of hers slowly reaching up to her heart and clutching her chest and caressing her hair. Much of the verse remained calm, until the final line belied a sense of greater urgency... The switch to the second verse was quick, with not much of a pause or a break after the final line of this verse.
Kor, the world's torn apart your dreams and hopes
Their voices scream
Nemamo nade tebe
It's easy to let them win and give up...
The instrumentation began to build slightly. Gdica's voice went from that hushed calmness to a further emotional urgency, her voice and timber just that bit by bit higher. She shook heard at some parts of each line, her eyes closed, her face grimacing slightly from the emotions beginning to pour out of her. Each note she pinched, and yet delivered to the best of her ability. The lights around her would begin to intensify, going from a total darkness to a fragile and soft light, dancing around her as she performed. The instrumentation caught onto this, with an undercurrent of a cello joining the proceedings, especially as Gdica's voice began to utilize her falsetto for each line ending. She delivered these lines relatively quickly, the second chorus verse passing by and with the verse imminent. She reached a hand up towards the camera for the last line, delivering it entirely in a falsetto and becoming almost visibly breathless as she finished it. She regained her breath in preparation for the chorus, using that brief break between verse and chorus to do so, taking a step back and opening her eyes towards the camera.
Hold on
Take one step and never look back
Stand tall
There is a light inside of you
And say
'Sam fuart, I will rise up and heal'
There was a slight flourish in both the instrumentation and her vocals, arcing up towards a higher tone and intensity. Gdica would hold one arm out towards the camera as it switched between various views of the stage, looking almost like a montage as the camera views would 'fade' and bleed into each other instead of fast cuts. There were moments in the first half of the chorus where Gdica could be seen gazing towards another direction. There were angles, especially in the part more declarative/shorter parts of the chorus, where the camera would focus on side profiles of Gdica's face. They focused on the way her face shimmered against the sparse lights, the way her eyes, even from the side, shone with a broken yet fiery determination. To whoever she was singing this song to, it was clear that Gdica cared, and she exemplified this even further when the camera would return for a more direct view of her. The lights surrounding her began to shine even more bit by bit, intensifying as signs of a fuller instrumentation began to manifest.
Promise me, hold on
Take one step and never look back
Stand tall
There is a light inside of you
And say
'Sam fuart, I will rise up and heal, and heal, and heal...'
For the second half of the chorus, undercurrents of an orchestra began to pare through the instrumentation. Gdica would especially hold her chest and step forward, belting out some parts and letting her vocals soar for those choice few moments. However, she deliberately held back, utilizing this chorus as a way to build-up and set the stage for what was to come. The camera kept alternating and fading between angles slowly, a deliberate move to make sure that all of the attention and action was concentrated on Gdica's emotive vocals and expressions. At the last lines of this chorus, she ended it with a sideways glance, raising one hand up as the spotlight on her darkened for each vocal. She raised that hand up to her and visibly closed it, her expression grimacing into a near-sob. As soon as the chorus ended, she would turn her back on the audience and look up and towards the screen.
For this brief instrumental bridge, an solemn line of cello would play. Images of Izmeduan artists who have passed away, deliberately chosen from artists who did not attain much recognition, had their black and white pictures played on the screen. The camera's wide view would allow the audiences at home to also see the montage being played on the screen. Many of the artists that Gdica, the audience in the arena, and the viewers at home would only have been unfamiliar with many. For Gdica, some of them she only met once or twice, or only heard of in passing. However, in some form or another, they all shared one simple fact: their careers and lives were cut short. As soon as the cello's part of the song was complete, the camera would fade back to a view of Gdica. By this point, she was now glancing at the audience, visibly preparing for the last minute of the song. She caught the camera's gaze once more. The screens may have went dark, but the lights around her only began to intensify and brighten.
Kor, know that you will have to keep fighting
Don't give in, I will be with you
Biti ple, you're never alone
The third and final verse of the song saw Gdica begin to truly go at it. All of the build up for the the first two minutes of the song was now nearing its imminent payoff. She intensified her vocals further, belting out and singing these lyrics with defiance and plea. Her face showed a greater determination than before, but the sympathy and her care in her eyes never disappeared. The camera would focus all its attention on her for this verse, even as the lights around Gdica began to finally intensify and light up the Arenakyvivre. The instrumentation itself also began to pick up, with the orchestra finally beginning to make itself apparent on the backing track and an even greater sense of urgency and drama than before. The instrumentation, the lights, and her delivery kept getting more dramatic for every, building up to a near fever pitch. Gdica pointed towards the audience and the camera, making sure to emblematize and deliver this message with all of the power she could via her voice, arm movements, whatever she needed to do.
Promise me
This brief line was an interval from verse to chorus. A dramatic arm movement followed by a dramatic sequence of flashing lights, woven and framed by a wide camera view. The instrumentation swooned only slightly, the strings in the backing track carrying the song to its final chorus. Before long, the song had finally reached its climax...
Hold on
Take one step and never look back
Stand tall
There is a light inside of you
And say
'Sam fuart, I will rise up and heal, and heal, and heal...'
For the final reprise of the chorus, Gdica gave it all that she could and more. From a controlled delivery to now belting out the song. Her eyes were closed, her concentration firmly set on her vocals, emotions, the camera, and the audience. The lights around swelled and shine dramatically around her, entire arrays and rows of white lights giving light and framing the tragedy and hope surrounding the song's mood and message. The Arenakyvivre's interior, as Gdica dramatically belted out each line, was now at its brightest. At each line and at each note, the viewers at home and in the audience could see Gdica's body wrack and keel slightly over each note, her voice keeping par with the dramatic instrumental. She would end this half softly, her eyes closed and pointing one trembling finger towards the camera. Now, it was time for the second half...
Promise me, hold on
Take one step and never look back
Stand tall
There is a light inside of you
And say
'Sam fuart, I will rise up and heal'
For this, she gave it her all and left everything on the stage. Gdica let her vocals rise and belt for as powerfully as she feasibly could, saving all of the pent up energy not just from the song's build up, but from each rehearsal, each moment writing this song, each moment thinking about this song. The camera switched between close and wide shots, the lights concentrating on Gdica as she sang. She stepped forward at each line, Gdica now finding herself closer to the audience than ever before. Her hands trembled, her voice was at its limits, and she wasn't sure how long she could keep this up. However, she never let up or relented. For the fourth and final line, that was the glory moment of the song. One wide stage view, the lights coalescing darkening and then flashing intensely, and Gdica belting out 'and say' with as much power as she could. The camera would return back to her for the final line of the chorus, ending with eyes closed, her eyes and face towards the ceiling. Her voice lilted with power for as long as she could, the lights fading except for a solitary spotlight...
Kor...
She ended the song with that final line. Gdica was too lost for words when the song finished, the lights darkening and the camera turning back to the crowd for a shot of some lucky Izmeduans waving their flags. She had no idea how to take in the cheers or the reactions, only gazing with gratefulness and emotion brimming with her eyes. She couldn't hold it in anymore, too overcome with the complex package of emotions associated with the song to say any words to the crowd except for pinching her nose, on the verge of sobbing.
She blew a kiss to the crowd and walked backstage, hoping that no matter what happened tonight, this song mattered to someone. Moved them, set them on a path towards healing and happiness...
If that happened... That was enough for Gdica to feel fulfilled.