Freedom in the Daily Rhythm

How music gradually grows into a life language, discipline turns into peace, and how a young pianist finds light in constant motion

In the landscape of Latvia’s new generation of jazz, musicians are increasingly appearing whose paths have been neither linear nor academic in the classical sense. These are people who didn’t inherit jazz from their families but found it themselves — through coincidence, intuition, passion, and sometimes very harsh «reality checks» regarding how much work this music actually requires. Pianist Santa Kauliņa is one such vivid example.

Santa’s story weaves together classical foundations, a competitive spirit, an endless list of interests, a training in discipline, and, later, a drive for freedom she saw in jazz, only to discover that freedom there always lives alongside strict rules. She is one of those musicians who genuinely know what it means to balance creativity and structure, to balance the desire to play and the necessity to train, and to balance enjoying a coffee and practicing scales.

Today, Santa works as an educator, an active jazz pianist, and a session musician in various ensembles — from Volha Zakharova’s theatrical performances to Annija Briška’s original music and pop projects. She learns, searches, experiments, and purposefully builds the path toward her first album. Her story is very familiar to any young musician trying to find their place in the rapidly changing, increasingly open Latvian jazz world.

A conversation with Santa Kauliņa about the childhood marathon of extracurriculars, arriving at jazz piano, morning coffee rituals that save her from procrastination, and how to maintain motivation in a creative profession.

So, Santa Kauliņa, tell us — who are you?

I am Santa Kauliņa. I play piano — jazz, pop, and other directions; nowadays, I guess they call it rhythm music. Speaking about my childhood and musical journey, the beginnings — I studied at the music school in Vangaži, which is a very, very cozy place, very family-friendly. It’s a place where everything can happen: many clubs for kids, a culture house, a regular high school, a music and art school, and all sorts of activities. That’s where I grew up.

I learned to play piano under a great teacher, Jurijs Kaspers. He educated and disciplined me for real. My greatest excitement, I think, appeared in school competitions and playing etudes — when you have two pages, a clear goal, and it’s clear what needs to be done. That’s where I realized I have a competitive spirit. I even had a «1» [the lowest grade] in my diary once — I remember that day very well because I hadn’t prepared for the lesson. That really kicked me, made me reflect, and made me realize that maybe I need to devote more time to music than I thought.

But that was your major?

Yes, that was my major. Because, as I say, my life was very colorful — I went to judo, to art school, to choir classes, dancing, I managed to be in a chess club, I sang in vocal ensembles, theater club, culture, etc. The piano was only one tiny part of everything imaginable.

At what point did you choose the piano specifically? How did you decide that this is what you would stick with?

The most significant support came from my dear mom. She supported me a lot and channeled her love of music, because she is a very musical person herself — a teacher of English at school — and she led vocal ensembles at the culture house and at school. She encouraged me that the work of a teacher will always exist — children exist, children will always be there. Even though the income is small, it’s stable. And I was also very attracted by what I saw in my music teacher — her schedule starts around one or twelve o’clock. I immediately realized it was late morning, and I’ve never liked waking up early. Personally, I found all early mornings and early hours pointless because I could never wake up. That really appealed to me.

But why the piano specifically? You could have been a teacher in another specialty.

I always knew that my life would be connected with music and art. I accepted that as a fact rather than a conscious choice. In music, even as a child, I liked to play emotionally charged, lyrical pieces. I really took a liking to them — the way you can hear, play, and live along with it, experiencing those emotions. For example, my teacher gave me Rachmaninoff’s «Elegie», Lūcija Garūta’s preludes, and Debussy’s Arabesque. That provided a kind of emotional key. I remember that by my own choice I also played film music — Ludovico Einaudi, etc. — and could play for two hours straight because I just really liked how it sounded and how I could enjoy it in that moment.

And then at some point, you chose jazz?

Yes. After primary school, after the regular music school, I realized I wanted to study at Mediņš [Jāzeps Mediņš Riga Music High School]. I went to a consultation — a colloquium for classical students, where they discussed history, requirements, and solfège. I sat there for about half an hour and realized — oh wow, this is going to be unbearably complex and acutely complicated. It seemed to me that the requirements were excessive, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to devote that much time to it.

Then I heard there was a jazz department, and I realized — yes, that might be more suitable for me, freer, more creative. There I could also write my own compositions and play what I want. But, after studying in the jazz department, I realized that actually, this world — yes, there is freedom, but there are just as many rules, technical challenges, and complex pieces. You also have to play at a fast tempo, which is quite uncomfortable, the wealth of harmony — all the alterations, additional steps, combinations of three-note, four-note, ten-note chords… That sea of information is just as exhaustive as in classical music. I thought it would be a more creative, easier path, but it turned out — you have to dig and dig and never finish digging, and the sea is undrinkable.

But was it interesting to dig?

It was, until the moment I started thinking about a philosophical question: actually, it’s endless work. And does it cheer me up — wow, here are colossal opportunities, there’s no end to mastery — or does it demotivate me because I will never reach true freedom? A few years ago, this question was a significant burden. I lost motivation, direction, and the ultimate goal — a bit. If there is none to hold onto, what can be the driving force? Then, gradually, I gathered myself and realized that I could take small steps, set achievable goals, and set levels to overcome.

That moment was after graduating from the Academy, right?

Yes. After finishing the Academy, I realized it is essential to enjoy it. I returned to the childhood feeling — I liked to play and be in the moment. In childhood, there’s a great moment — a good school, but you don’t have to think about housing, food; if you do your homework, you can do whatever you want afterward. After the Academy, it’s similar, only now there is work. In high school, one of the great things I’m thankful for was Raimonds Petrauskis. He revealed music «tricks» and ideas that I still use today. Even today, I can open old notes and say, «I can practice this today or tomorrow.» His approach as a teacher will remain a lifelong model for me — how he knows how to interest and inspire students, to lure them into a topic or a story.

When you finished Mediņš, did you have the thought of going abroad to study, or did you go straight to the Academy, to the pedagogical department?

There were thoughts about foreign academies. I made a list — what are the pros, cons, risks? That helped me realize I wasn’t ready for such significant changes and challenges. It seemed to me there were enough challenges right here.

Could you say you are a rational person?

I try very hard to be. There have been many choices and actions I’ve made emotionally, but I try to analyze them — was it worth it, should I repeat it? I like structure.

How does that reflect in your music?

I see chords in numbers very well — I quickly see the steps and alterations, specifically through numbers and combinations. Visually, too. For example, I see C major as a horizontal line; D major is like two curves «upward.» I see chord degrees faster in numbers, for example, 1-3-5-7 against each new root note. I admire those people who primarily learned music from recordings and thus have highly developed hearing and transcribing abilities; my path started with the visual and the theoretical.

But what about the Academy and trips?

The Academy also has the Erasmus program. I got to go on a trip to Omaha, America. We went with an ensemble for ten days, and there I realized that the environment is a bit different — people want to play more; the desire to play is stronger there. I wondered what it would be like to study there for four years — whether that would change anything in my «drive» to play.

Why do you think it’s like that there?

Maybe more competition, perhaps that spirit — playing music and being inspired by it, loving what you do. The environment and the people around you.

But you were also lucky to study under Tuomo [Uusitalo] here?

Yes. Initially, I studied with Viktors Ritovs; from him I learned how to make a chord wider and imitate a big band, but I have a smaller hand than he does, so that it will sound different physically and practically. After that, I studied with the Finnish pianist Tuomo Uusitalo. His perspective helped strengthen the structured, rational approach— emphasizing the development of daily skills, the importance of a jazz routine (daily exercises), and a straightforward approach. As he told it, it doesn’t matter what kind of day it’s been or what time you went to bed; you are always in the classroom at seven in the morning, you do your two hours, and then you go about your business.

Given my attitude toward mornings and routine… It’s tough for me to force myself. I’ve never liked the learning process, to be honest. But I really enjoy playing — when a piece is read,y and I can be the performer and listener at the same time, that’s my favorite stage. To get there, you need patience and long hours of work. I really thought about it — he has an excellent technical foundation and language, and I thought: wow, he is fantastic; I want to be like that too.

How to get there?

I started studying routines, systematic actions, and the «cue-action-reward» scheme. For example, you see a phone, you automatically grab it, open WhatsApp, and then you’ll spend two hours on Instagram. That’s a habit and dopamine as a reward. I tried to understand how to apply this scheme in practice. My biggest «reward» is coffee. I am ready to play scales and learn a piece just for coffee — it still works for me.

So you set a condition for yourself that you get your morning coffee only if you play your scales?

I would rather sip coffee while playing. I take a sip, play something, take another sip, and continue. A habit forms — along with your morning coffee, you do something useful instead of just vegetating on the couch. And I really took a liking to that because I love coffee, and the combination seemed realistic. I tried it, and yes — I continue to do so.

Not bad, not bad. You studied in the pedagogical department, right? Did you apply specifically to the pedagogical department, or to both?

I applied to the pedagogical one right away. On one hand, I realized that a diploma must have meaning and use — it’s tough for me to do things without an endpoint. If I want to continue teaching, especially in high schools, my dream is to work with young people; I thought, this is closer. And the diploma allows that. On the other hand, I was a bit scared of the performance program — the pressure, the teachers’ expectations. So I chose to be in that environment and system, finish my education, and receive it cautiously. This diploma doesn’t stop me from being a performer, but it gives me a good foundation and an official document for working. A good combination.

Did you miss all the musical subjects during your studies? Pedagogical students usually have less musical load and more of the pedagogical and theoretical side.

Not really. Specifically in the jazz department, in the piano major, we were together with the rest of the jazz students in all musical subjects. I encountered the «regular» educators — who will work in general education schools or music schools — in the pedagogy subjects. But in harmony, ensemble, improvisation — everyone was together.

And now you also work as a teacher, right?

Yes. I received a call from Toms Pošs about Anna Vibe being on maternity leave and needing a substitute teacher. I said «yes» to Ventspils. Two months passed while I was a substitute, and then I received an offer to continue. I remember my first thought — wow! It’s so far. Three hours back and forth every week. That scared me a bit — you get tired just from the journey. Then I was walking down the hallway, and I heard a familiar saxophone sound in a classroom — it’s Toms Rudzinskis. I thought — wow… I asked him how it is there, and he said, “One of the best schools in Latvia right now.” I realized — yes, they really have excellent equipment, funding, good rooms, a new concert hall with technical and lighting capabilities. They do colloquia like TED Talks — you have a microphone, you switch slides with a remote, and you talk about a topic. Compared to my high school… of course, years have passed, but the Ventspils school offers truly many opportunities. There, every computer has Logic, a MIDI keyboard, not to mention an available recording studio and professional equipment — full opportunities to express oneself.

How many years have you been working as an educator?

In total… roughly? [Laughs] I was born in 1999 — I have to calculate. But yes, there is already experience. I quickly realized I wanted to start working and earning my own money — that’s the way you live. I started by baking pizzas — at a pizzeria. It was terrible because in the third year at Mediņš, I had 12-hour night shifts. I felt I was degrading a bit on all levels because I was just squeezed dry.

After that, I started working at the private studio «Anima» for a year. Then I was invited to the Bolderāja Music and Art School — I worked there for four or five years while simultaneously studying at the Academy. Then, the high school in Ventspils. There was also the Rēzekne high school — I substituted for Greisa [Peremota] there, a four-hour drive… But in general, one can conclude that there is a shortage of jazz piano teachers.

How do you like teaching?

I like it. I like seeing the «aha» moment in the students’ eyes best. I don’t like giving direct answers — I want to lead them to them, to arrive at a solution together: how to play this part, this standard, how many variants there are, what we’ll take from the first version, what from another. I really like it when a person, with their skills and current level, can create a beautiful piece that they arranged themselves.

Do you often encounter burnout?

With students — yes, especially at the end of the semester when some are already «out of breath.» Then I try to encourage them, calm them down, tell them the exams will end, that everything will pass, and focus on the most important thing. I say these sentences to myself, too. When work has piled up, and everything happens one after another, you feel like you’re in a continuous rhythm where every week repeats itself. In a couple of months, the load will be very noticeable. I’m still looking for ways to give myself peace and silence — tea drinking sessions, evenings without the phone and screens. Especially in this visually and informatively overloaded age of social networks. I try not to read the news — the most essential stuff reaches you through people anyway. But yes, I’m still looking for additional solutions.

You mentioned that you had a dream of composing for yourself. Is that still there?

Yes, that was one of the motivating factors, and it’s happening now, too. I write a lot; there are recorded ideas and materials to choose from. Currently, I’m more in «side project» mode — a session musician. I get a call, and I have a project. I can mention many people I’ve played with this year. But right now, I am actively thinking about my own album and music. It seems the time has come to show myself more broadly — to do what I can with the tools I have right now and start this path. I’ve been putting this idea off for a couple of years because of all the schedules: «later, later» — but that «later» never comes. So, the most significant focus of next year could be my music and my album.

This year I managed to play several concerts with Volha [Zakharova] and Beāte Meirāne (Volha — baritone saxophonist, Beāte — double bassist and bass guitar player). Volha inspired me a lot — how relaxed she is, full of ideas, theatricality, and humor. That helped me look at music with a lighter view — as a game, a joke, a joy. We played themed concerts at «MASA» with her music; there was also a burlesque show with Zoja [Štifela] — another show will be in December.

I play Annija Briška’s original music — she is a saxophonist, just finished the Academy, and her music is fantastic. With Laura Svikša, we participated in the «Baltic Young Jazz Competition.» With Diona [Liepiņa], we presented the album «Mākoņos» — there I was interested in the pop music industry, producing pieces that differ from what I do in jazz. We’ll see how it goes. Soon I’ll be playing with Līga Kupča’s original songs; we’re waiting for the album!

What would be your wish for people who are thinking about starting their creative path in music, at a professional level? For example, they are finishing high school and thinking whether to dive into music or pedagogy.

I would definitely suggest asking yourself questions and understanding the big picture — the big «why.» Where do you want to end up? Then it’s much easier to understand the tasks for this vision and what needs to be done next, especially in the most challenging moments. You have to be interested in yourself — what attracts you, what you like. If you want a recording — why? How can you apply that to your music and your life? Being authentic to yourself.

And one more thing — find like-minded people. People who want to be in music just as much. It’s easier together.