Solomiya Moroz is a UK-based Ukrainian-Canadian composer and flutist whose textural music defies preconceived notions of timbre and conventions of harmony. Moroz is interested in interdisciplinary and gestural composition; she blends into her music improvisation and elaborate kinds of electronic processing. Her intricately cascading textures accumulate gradually, sometimes buzzing restlessly and other times entering into a groggy, microtonal trance — you never know where Moroz’s music will take you. A good entry point is the eerily ruminative In C, for the unusual combination of bandura (a Ukrainian plucked instrument), flute, and electronics.
The world premiere of Moroz’s newest composition is a high point of the 2025 Ukrainian Contemporary Music Festival, in New York City. Since its inauguration in 2020 by musicologist Leah Batstone, the festival has opened a window into the arts and literature of Ukraine, a country whose rich cultural heritage has been pushed to an existential limit by the ongoing war but has also been brought to public consciousness. The festival continues to foreground Ukraine through contemporary music, songs, chamber works, literature, and roundtable discussions. This year’s edition, March 12–15, includes music by 20 Ukrainian composers, including eight who are new to the festival.
Moroz’s new piece will be premiered on the March 13 program, titled Fantastyka, which draws from technology and artificial intelligence to make a case for the confluence between contemporary composition and Ukrainian sci-fi literature. The music will be performed by the sleek, deliciously subversive new-music quintet TAK Ensemble.
Ahead of the premiere, Moroz talked to ICIYL about her new piece, working with the TAK Ensemble, the role of electronics, and Ukrainian culture
Tell me your history with the Ukrainian Contemporary Music Festival. What inspired this newly commissioned piece from you?
I participated in the UCMF in 2023 as part of a music project called String Air Synthesis with bandurist Volodymyr Voyt. In this duo, I play electronics and flute, and we both compose pieces that are rather open and involve a lot of improvisation. It was truly an honor to be part of the festival, which was dedicated to the music of composer Boris Lyatoshynsky. That year, we also arranged several of Latoshynsky’s folk pieces, incorporating electronics, synthesizer sounds, bandura, and flute. It was a unique interpretation of the composer’s music, and we believe the audience enjoyed it.
What is the text or extra-musical source for the piece and how does it fit with the program? Do you have a title yet?
I am using text from Volodymyr Vynnychenko’s Solar Machine. It aligns perfectly with the fantastical program of sci-fi literature that Leah decided to curate. This novel, which blends elements of anti-utopia and science fiction, follows the story of an inventor who creates the Solar Machine, a device that enables humans to produce bread by transforming plants. While this invention brings both benefits and challenges to humanity, it raises profound ethical questions at its core: Is it inherently good for people to opt out of the capitalist economic system and live a life of leisure, sustained by the solar machine?
I set parts of the text closely to the events of the novel, creating a structure akin to a mini-opera narrated by the vocalist in the group. In fact, the piece leans more toward music theater, where the rest of the ensemble also participates in acting and reciting text. There are exciting action-driven sections that involve the concept of the Solar Machine.
And the title, to no surprise, is The Solar Machine!
Can you tell us about your collaboration with the TAK Ensemble? What degree of flexibility will they have in their performance?
My collaboration with TAK Ensemble has been fantastic so far. They were very enthusiastic about working together, as I’ve known most of the group members for quite some time through various music festivals and summer courses. They were incredibly open to discussing all aspects of the piece, whether instrumental or programmatic, and I could reach out to them whenever I had questions.
There is a score, and as I mentioned earlier, there are text interjections that can be spoken by different ensemble members. However, it remains to be seen what additional actions we might incorporate on stage once we begin rehearsing. There is also a section that will be quite open for the ensemble, where they will be asked to improvise with electronic sounds generated by a device on stage. Additionally, there might be some sight-reading involved, but I can’t give away too much—haha! All this is to say that there will be extra-musical elements and some movement on stage!
How would you describe the role that electronics, and different kinds of sonic manipulations, plays in your music?
I would say electronics play a significant role in my music. For over a decade, I have been performing, composing, and creating music that consistently incorporates electronic sounds or processes. In this particular piece, however, there isn’t an overwhelming amount of electronic sound or live processing. That said, the sections that do feature electronics are central to the work and play a crucial part in its overall structure.
Currently, I am developing a chamber opera focused on environmental themes, which integrates plant data into the compositional process. In The Solar Machine, I am utilizing a prototype device designed to track sensor data from a plant. While my past work has been heavily influenced by sensors and gestural controllers, particularly in their interaction with human performers, this project represents a departure from that approach. For the first time, I am working with sensors that interface directly with a non-human entity rather than a human performer. This shift marks a new experiment for me, as well as for the ensemble, as we navigate the challenges and possibilities of this collaborative framework.
The war in Ukraine has shed some light on the country’s culture. As a Ukrainian-Canadian composer living abroad, how do you see your responsibility to protect that culture?
I try to promote the work of many Ukrainian artists and to write about the contemporary music scene in Ukraine whenever possible. At the start of the war, I wrote a short piece on this topic for the British Columbia branch of the Canadian Music Centre (CMC). Last June, I conducted a workshop in Lviv, Ukraine, which was connected to my current academic research on digital scores. The workshop was designed for music and visual art students in Lviv, and while the concept was quite novel to them, many found it engaging and created fascinating works within just 10 days!
This is all to say that I prioritize supporting my peers and the younger generation of artists in Ukraine, as I believe this is crucial at a time when, unfortunately, much of the world has left Ukraine to fend for itself. This is not to say that there hasn’t been support from the international community—Ukrainians, including myself, are deeply grateful for it. However, when it comes to the actual fight, Ukraine and its people often feel alone. I could sense this acutely during my visit there last summer.
I always feel like I am not doing enough however, and how can you in the face of so much destruction and now a potential forced peace deal which may leave Ukraine in a very bad situation? The scale of the challenges feels overwhelming sometimes, especially as so many communities, both in the U.S. and abroad, are grappling with their own struggles and injustices. Yet, despite the enormity of these crises, it is precisely in such moments that unity and persistent action become essential. So, I feel like I must continue to do more, whether through promoting Ukrainian culture, volunteering or donating to the Armed Forces of Ukraine. There are many cultural institutions already doing great work in promoting and reaching out to larger audiences, such as the Ukrainian Institute and, of course, UCMF, along with many others. They do a great job in amplifying Ukrainian culture as an act of resilience—a way to assert identity and dignity in the face of erasure.
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