About me
My name is Esther Pelleg.
I sing, write songs, tour with my band or perform as a soloist.
I move somewhere between pop and jazz and build bridges to other musical genres.
My music is like a party where you dance wildly, tell your girlfriend about your latest heartbreak and then comfort her with a warm hug .
It sounds like Yvonne Catterfeld, Annett Lousian and Norah Jones are doing a session together.
My texts are in German, they touch and empower.
With my music, I advocate for communication and mutual understanding. Music has the power to build bridges. Bridges between what's going on inside us and what's visible outside us, bridges between cultures, genders, age groups, and social classes.
One of my most important bridges was broken very early when my mother died. I was two years old.
Music became my best friend, someone I could complain to on the phone about my troubles and then laugh with again. Only I didn't have a telephone receiver to my ear; instead, I sat on my round, hand-crocheted rug with my guitar on my lap, singing and making up songs. I played the piano, which my father had somehow managed to get up the narrow spiral staircase so that it could be placed in my room. Or I listened to U2 and Ella Fitzgerald on my CD player, practically crawling into the speaker. Music helped me understand myself and the world when it seemed to be falling apart. It became the bridge from my inner world to the outer world, from shadow to light and from heaviness to lightness. Music has always understood me, comforted me, given me joy and meaning.
And then, very gradually, I stopped making music. I still made music, but somehow differently. I threw myself into working as a music teacher at a comprehensive school. I taught children and young people in classes with 16 different native languages and all sorts of religious affiliations. They learned the basics of keyboard playing, we talked about the impact of music in film and advertising, I coached them on musical projects, drummed with entire classes at initiation ceremonies, and organized concerts for all the young talents with my colleagues. There was always something going on. That's probably why I didn't even notice I wasn't making music anymore. I no longer played in a band—no a cappella group, no jazz combo, and no drum ensemble. And most importantly, I had stopped writing my own songs.
The birth of my two children and the time I spent at home with them brought about changes both inside and out. I was thrown back into myself and into what lay deep within me. With the love and magic of children's hearts, my heart also opened again. Discovering the world of small things together, immersing ourselves in the slow pace of everyday life, playing, singing, dancing, and mischief, or even just reading picture books on the couch, snuggled up under a big blanket, inspired me. After many years of inactivity, I wrote another song—and a second—and a third.
I now have my own concert program with my own songs. I'm working on my first EP and playing concerts.
Music is my bridge to understanding and communication, and everything I have learned about people, cultures, religions, and coexistence flows into my lyrics and my music.
