I was told not to talk about my mutant superpower
“As a child, I was told not to talk about my mutant superpower, so I kept it secret and hid among humans. Now, I'm putting it to use, creating colourful music in a variety of styles and environments and proving that even non-synesthetes can appreciate the variety of colours, even if they can't see them.”
Imagine perceiving sounds as bursts of colour, where melodies glow and harmonies shimmer in vivid hues. For Jacqueline Cordes, this isn’t a metaphor but her everyday reality. As a chromesthetic composer, she experiences music through a kaleidoscope of colours, using this rare neurological condition as a powerful creative tool. Whether crafting the vibrant worlds of her debut album “Singularity” or colour-coding film scores to evoke precise emotions, Jacqueline’s unique perspective transforms how she approaches music. In this interview, she shares how chromesthesia has shaped her artistry, from her discovery of the condition to her mission to explore uncharted musical environments and inspire listeners to see the world through her eyes.
Do you remember the moment you discovered your chromesthesia? What was it like to realise that not everyone “sees” sound the way you do?
I was in my junior year of high school, I was practising Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G minor, and I suddenly thought, “What an insane piece—it changes from red suddenly to green and blue.” Then it hit me: “What if this is another kind of synaesthesia I have?” By then, I already knew I had grapheme-colour synaesthesia. I’d figured it out at eight years old, after telling my parents how happy I was to turn eight because the number eight is a lovely shade of teal. My parents had heard of synaesthesia but were sceptical until they researched it and found that most synaesthetes agree the letter A is red. My dad called out from the other room, “What colour is A?” and I yelled back, “Red!” After that, I took a synaesthesia battery test, which confirmed I was a synaesthete.
Like many synaesthetes, I was stunned to learn that most people don’t experience the world this way. I was also surprised to find that non-synaesthetes can imagine black numbers and letters! Realising how rare synaesthesia is made me feel fortunate—it’s profoundly influenced my passions and life path.
Can you share what certain musical elements—like a minor chord or a specific instrument—look and feel like to you? How does your chromesthesia inspire your music?
Unlike many synaesthetes who associate specific chords or instruments with colours, my chromesthesia is tied to the musical character or feel. For example, most Irish jig music and sea shanties appear red to me—energetic, driving, and often in minor keys. Green music, which is rarer, emerges in orchestral film scores with strong chord progressions and soaring melodies, often in dorian mode, like the main themes of “Black Beauty”, “Night at the Museum”, and “The Power of the Heart”.
This perception shapes my compositions. I aim for clear melodies and chord progressions, which are more likely to evoke colours. Understanding the musical elements that create certain colours is invaluable when composing. For instance, when scoring a film, I might think, “This scene needs a heroic and soaring theme—something green.” A filmmaker recently laughed when she noticed I’d colour-coded the script, saying, “You’re, like, supernatural!”
Was there a moment during your childhood or early musical education when your synaesthesia became a creative tool rather than just a fascinating quirk?
Once I began understanding what the colours represented, they started influencing my compositions by helping me replicate the environments of pieces that inspired me. When I began sharing my synaesthetic experiences with teachers and peers, I found that most people were fascinated and full of questions. Over time, it became a defining part of my identity.
When you sit down to compose, do you start with a musical idea and see where the colours lead you, or do you begin with a visual palette and translate it into music?
Most of the time, I aim to create a specific musical environment, focusing on evoking particular colours and using instruments to build the atmosphere I envision. Over time, I’ve learned to consistently create colours by understanding the necessary musical elements. For example, green pieces often revolve around repeating chord progressions, while purple pieces start with melodies that guide the chords. Unfortunately, some great music feels “colourless” to me, so I use unique scales or other techniques to build a vivid atmosphere.
At the Fibonacci Conference, you spoke about cataloguing scales. Could you tell me more about that?
My goal in cataloguing scales was to encourage other composers to explore the vast array of scales available in music. I wanted to make unusual scales accessible, even for those without formal music theory training, and inspire experimentation beyond major and minor scales. Popular music today feels increasingly homogenous, but scales are powerful tools that can evoke distinct musical worlds. I hope to inspire composers to explore this untapped potential.
Do you see your work as a bridge to help people understand chromesthesia, or is it more about sharing your unique perspective with the world?
I aim to create music that captures specific musical worlds. My hope is that even non-synaesthetes can connect with my work and feel transported to another time or place. I’m constantly discovering new musical environments and hope to explore and document as many as I can.
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