Captain of the Birds

The album Captain of the Birds is inspired by the book Terre des hommes by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. I  stumbled upon the book by chance and bought it mainly because it was written by the author of The Little  Prince. But after just a couple of chapters, I realized that the book spoke to me in a very profound way. It put  into words thoughts about a meaningful existence, about creativity, that I’d long held but hadn’t been able to  articulate. 

 The book also created a link between music and nature—music as part of the elements. The pilot Saint Exupéry writes about his thoughts in the air, in the desert, in cities, and over the sea, at a time when flying  was still a completely new phenomenon. My experiences are of course completely different, being a  musician, but I recognize something in his descriptions of being close to nature. For me, there’s a similar  experience in music. When you play or listen with total presence, a connection arises with something greater  than yourself.  

 A theme related to nature that captivated me in this book is mysticism—that which cannot be captured in  words. Music, just like nature, can open doors to experiences that lie beyond language. Harmonies, sounds,  and rhythms in music can transport us into states reminiscent of meditation, where we touch upon another  dimension. 

 After reading the book, I became curious about the person behind it. I began to read about Saint-Exupéry’s  life and discovered a truly fascinating, multifaceted individual. Among other things, he was a pilot, author,  philosopher, mechanic, adventurer, and journalist. His highly varied life experiences and broad interests gave  him a perspective that made his writing unique. 

 As a mail pilot in North Africa during the 1920s, he experienced the Sahara Desert up close. Those  experiences came to shape his view of humanity and the world. The contrast between life in the desert and  life in the cultural sphere of Paris was stark. But Saint-Exupéry had an incredible ability to see connections  between seemingly disparate things and to articulate them with clarity. 

 Saint-Exupéry’s writing style is one of the main reasons I became captivated by the book. The text is free flowing, associative, and allows itself to move between different topics. There is something important in that  approach for music-making as well. Music must be allowed to develop on its own terms. When you try to  control or force everything into a certain mold, both the work and the creator risk losing something essential.  In those moments when you’re alone with the music and completely absorbed in the creative process, a sense  of presence arises that’s hard to describe. The music then becomes a way to move freely—not unlike flying. 

 The process of making this album has differed from how I usually write music. I usually start out alone  and then gradually develop the arrangements. This time however, I gave piano pieces to the musicians Anton  Svanberg and Emma Augustsson, who were free to create arrangements for cello, violin, tubaand alto horn. I  didn’t hear a single note of their arrangements until we gathered at Studio Rymden in Stockholm. There, we  recorded the music together with Daniel Bengtsson, who also plays bass and double bass on the album. 

 I wanted to foster genuine collaboration and trust in the other musicians’ experience and creativity. When  you let go of the need for control, interesting music often emerges. The unexpected is an important part of all  creative work. 

Text: Jukka Rintamäki, 2026.