Occupying the space between spoken word and experimental cinema, The Music That Lives In Me is a collaborative jazz-poetry film spearheaded by poet Angela Yausheva.
Currently navigating the international indie festival circuit, the piece attempts a delicate balancing act: wedding the familiar narrative of a relationship’s end to the expansive language of jazz and urban cinematography.
The result is a polished exploration of romantic dissolution that ultimately finds strength in a confident sonic and visual execution, all anchored by Yausheva’s poetic vision.
A Familiar Landscape
Yausheva, a regular voice in the Scottish and Serbian spoken word scenes, centres the film with a deft vocal performance that balances frustration with weary self-awareness. Her text charts the gradual unravelling of a romance, rejecting a “zip-lipped truce” in favour of more visible, articulate mourning.
The result is a polished exploration of romantic dissolution that ultimately finds strength in a confident sonic and visual execution, all anchored by Yausheva’s poetic vision.
Critically speaking, the poem occasionally flirts with the conventions inherent in breakup literature. The central theme of a relationship leaving one unmoored is well-trodden ground, and stripped of its multimedia elements, the text might risk feeling conventional. However, the piece rescues itself through sharp moments of self-indictment. Yausheva’s candid admission of complicity—“When I said I did not know / I lied”—grounds the work, ensuring the narrator is not positioned as a flawless victim, but as a willing participant in the wreckage.
From Dissonance to Harmony
Where the film elevates itself is in its sonic architecture, crafted in active, dynamic dialogue with Yausheva’s text by Sydney-based composer Alex Nicholls. Aided by the textural brass of Will Endicott and Andrija Gavrilović, and the strings of Mohammed Yaushev, the music traces the emotional trajectory of the narrator.
Initially, the soundtrack leans into discord. When Yausheva speaks of “trying to find the key on an instrument out of tune,” the jazz-influenced beats mirror that friction, capturing the anxiety of a failing connection. Yet, as the poem progresses toward reclamation, the score gracefully pivots. The fractured, yet always stylish dissonance gives way to something more unified and melodious, underscoring the film’s concluding realization that the only enduring rhythm is the “music that lives in me.”
The Music Video Sensibility
Visually, the piece embraces a distinct music video sensibility—a choice unsurprising given the collaborators’ backgrounds in the indie music sphere, and appropriate for the format. Videographer Zoran Rašić delivers slickly composed frames dominated by urban streetscapes, the rhythmic passing of light rail, and the moody interplay between harsh street lighting and softer natural light.
Where the film elevates itself is in its sonic architecture, crafted in active, dynamic dialogue with Yausheva’s text by Sydney-based composer Alex Nicholls.
Crucially, however, it is Yausheva who remains the centre of gravity within these frames. At first glance, this high level of visual polish might seem a little at odds with the jagged edges of the grief being described. Yet the blend of kinetic urban imagery and intimate close-ups of Yausheva delivers a strong, deliberate sense of style. Rather than undermining the vulnerability of her text, this aesthetic is perfectly in keeping with the overarching jazz chic of the piece, allowing the poet to anchor the sorrow in a cool, familiar and atmospheric restraint.
Final Verdict
The Music That Lives In Me succeeds not despite its glossy finish, but because of how Yausheva uses it to frame her work. She successfully marries a familiar emotional narrative to a stylized urban aesthetic, steering this collaborative effort into a cohesive and resonant piece of multimedia art. Ultimately, the film stands as a compelling ritual of recovery, proving that familiar sorrow, when guided by a singular artistic vision, can still be navigated with assurance and grace.
All Images: Screengrabs from https: www.youtube.comwatchv=1mOiYQ – Credit Angela Yausheva
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