Marsha Swanson is a progressive pop artist known for her evocative storytelling and innovative sound. Drawing inspiration from diverse influences such as Sting, Peter Gabriel, Fiona Apple, and Carole King, her music explores themes of memory, identity, and connection. We speak with the songstress to discuss all things music below.
Generational Transmission deals with inheritance, trauma, and resilience. Can you talk about what inspired you to explore these themes in this song?
As a child, my birthdays were always overshadowed by mourning. Born only two days after my paternal grandmother’s premature death to cancer, the occasion was not only a celebration but an anniversary of grief for my father. Going over the top with gifts and party planning for my daughter, was how it manifested in the next generation. I realised it was little me whose birthdays I was trying to protect but it got transferred on to her. Realising a generational transmission was occurring enabled me to adapt my behaviour over time and also explain it to her. This unique mix of both freedom and responsibility inspired the song. My mother had a keen interest in learning more about her ancestors, and seeing how far back she could trace family patterns which we frequently discussed. The sandwich generation have the unique position of understanding the generational transmissions that their parents received too. As children and grandchildren of immigrants, my parents lived with the silence around war, rarely spoken about but deeply felt. The song doesn’t confront war directly, but rather shows its afterlife in families — the gaps, the patterns, the inherited pain, and the resilience born from it.
The music video uses hand-sculpted clay figures. Why did you and Sam Chegini choose clay as the medium, and how does it reflect the themes of the song?
Sam chose clay as the perfect medium for this story because it carries both weight and possibility. It holds the marks of every hand that shapes it, just as we carry the impressions of those who came before us. At the same time, clay remains malleable — it can be broken down, reshaped, and given new life. That tension between inheritance and transformation lies at the heart of Generational Transmission. The medium itself becomes part of the message: our stories are formed by history, but they are not fixed — we can choose what to carry forward and what to reshape.
“Clayton” and “Clayopatra” are charming names for your clay protagonists. How did you decide on their personalities and visual narrative?
We both felt an attachment to the clay puppets as soon as they were made, so it felt only right that they were given the dignity of names. Clayton, affectionately popped into my mind one day when we were chatting. It was a perfect origin name, meaning clay itself. I then suggested that we name all the characters for the credits and Sam thought that would be fun too. Clayopatra, felt like a humorous but fitting nod to the ancient leader, who was a pretty amazing woman don’t you think? I cannot imagine how many generational paths she changed single handedly! In terms of their personalities and narrative, Sam said the following, “They were shaped more by the themes of the story than by traditional character traits. They don’t have exaggerated features; instead, their simplicity invites the audience to project their own emotions onto them and connect on a more universal level. Visually, I wanted their journey to move between fragility and resilience. Clay as a medium is naturally imperfect-easily cracked or broken-but it can always be reshaped, just like human beings who endure and adapt across generations. By keeping their forms minimal yet expressive, I aimed to create characters whose story feels both deeply personal and broadly symbolic, so viewers can recognize parts of themselves within them”.
You mentioned that childhood memories, like Hugo the Hippo, influenced the song. How do those memories translate into your creative process today?
Curiously, I wasn’t aware of how my memory of Hugo the Hippo influenced the song until after I had finished it! There was an undercurrent propelling it along, in both rhythm and mood, yet it was only when discussing the colour palette for the video with Sam that the memory surfaced. Once I re-traced the cartoon and key song, the influence was immediately apparent. See if you can detect it! Memories are the raw material of my creative process-resurfacing in colours, fragments, and feelings. The beauty of music making is that it can honour the past whilst also reimagining it in the present!
The song represents a shift from piano to keyboard writing. How did this change impact the composition and emotional tone of the track?
The shift in sound quality and texture provided space for the chords to ring out, allowing my vocal melody to soar without being tied-in or constrained by a rhythm. This set the emotional tone of the piece, mirroring its theme of breaking free of familial patterns from the past. Moving away from the spacious lounge, where the piano had pride of place, to a small room upstairs where my keyboard, neglected for many years had collected dust, was emotional. The childhood memories of breaking free to express myself on a keyboard for the first time came back. The change of location and medium captured that time and place and magically transported itself into the song.
Recorded at Konk Studios with musicians like Benet McClean and Keith Prior, the production feels both intimate and expansive. How did collaboration shape the final sound?
Greatly. Producer Iestyn Polson was key in directing the initial band rehearsals which took place in Bush Studios, Shepherds Bush, where I once worked as a receptionist! His aim was to get the foundational band set-up and arrangement as tight as possible with Keith Prior (drums), Graham Knight (Bass), and Benjamin Croft (keys) before recording or adding anything extra. Iestyn had a long prior history of working with Keith on David Gray’s material which meant they already their own instinctive musical language. He also brought in Graham who he had worked with before and I had a long history with Ben. We jammed for 3 days solid as a group until all the best spontaneous moments were solidified as chosen parts. Benet’s contribution, was recorded in Space-Eko-East recording studio by Alex McGowan who also laid down some subtle but atmospheric electric guitar for the end-build. Henry Thomas wrote the multifaceted string arrangements knowing what Benet would be capable of playing. His highly nuanced, empathic, and deep understanding of the lyrics was reflected in all his choices, from counter rhythms for tension building to cradling the vocal for emphasising key emotional moments. Benet played every string part, layered several times and he was able to make his violin sound like a cello by using effects pedals. After completing the planned arrangements, some breathtaking improvisational takes, helped to seal the final atmosphere.
Can you walk us through the creative collaboration with Sam Chegini on the video? What was the most challenging and rewarding part of bringing this claymation to life?
The collaboration began as always with exchanging messages about the song concepts. After Sam listens to the song, we talk again virtually. This is the point where I notice Sam’s eyes start to flicker as images come to his mind live as we are speaking! He always pauses to write notes to himself and then goes away to work on a storyboard. There’s a lot of to and fro, including a brain storming session with my musical right hand man, Henry Thomas!
Sam said the following about the process, “Once I developed the initial script, I shared the idea with Marsha, and she loved it. I then worked on the script with Matin Nowrouzi, who had assisted me on previous videos for Marsha. Together, we finalized the script, and Marsha added the Mother figure, which completed the story. I sketched a storyboard and prepared animatics synced with the music, and it was then time to bring in a team of puppet builders to start production.
I first asked Sanaz Azimi, a skilled sculptor, to create sample puppets for our team. Then, I organized an interview workshop to hire puppet builders, reaching out to talented students from three local animation schools, including the one where I teach in Qazvin. I knew I could trust some of my students with such a demanding project. We ultimately hired a team of five. Production was supervised by one of my students, Parshan Paridokht, a talented sculptor who took charge of designing the puppets. Another student, Benyamin Qasemi, designed and built the sets and props, including the old TV. Mehdi Khoramnia, an experienced student from a previous year, served as the main animator on set.
Before shooting, I realized the original song was a bit too long for a claymation video, so I asked Marsha to create a special “Claymation edition” of the track. Once the revised song was ready, we shot the entire video at Shiveh Atelier, a local art gallery and school, scene by scene, working day and night for about three months until production was complete.
After directing the video, I composited the scenes one by one, added VFX shots, while Kiyasha Jalilikia added additional animations—like rain, waves, sea movements, etc. Finally, I asked Zahra Kababian (Animator) to add a 2D touch to the scene “Hand reaching for the Light” and I edited and color corrected the video, and eventually it was ready for its premiere!
The most challenging part of bringing a claymation to life is the enormous patience it requires. We worked at 15 frames per second, which meant shooting 15 individual frames just to create a single second of animation. On top of that, our puppets were fragile, and we were working in a very small studio. They were easily damaged, so we constantly had our puppet team on standby to repair or even re-create characters and add small retouches whenever needed.
As demanding as that was, the process became even more difficult when the 12-day war began in the middle of production. From the very first days of shooting all the way through post-production, we faced unexpected blackouts that disrupted our workflow and created constant setbacks for both the team and myself.
The most rewarding part, however, was that we managed to finish the film against all odds. It’s not the first time I’ve had to complete a project under impossible circumstances; living and working in Iran has often meant adapting to challenges most filmmakers never face, but to now have a claymation we can share with audiences makes every difficulty worth it”.
The biggest challenges for me in England paled in significance to what Sam was facing, but the gaps in communication were hard. Nothing about the process was secure and I worried about Sam and his team. I took comfort from the fact that they had a creative focus and outlet for solidarity which would help them through. It didn’t escape our notice that life was imitating art and I was aware that it would all come out in the final product-it always does!
The most rewarding moments for me were seeing the very first still images of the clay figures, then seeing them move for the first time, and finally the triumph of seeing it completed which was extraordinary!
In your own words, what does “generational transmission” mean to you personally, and what message do you hope listeners take from the song and video?
It matters to me personally to understand more about my behaviours and tendencies, where they originated from and what I can do about them. As a mother, my self-awareness in this area not only affects me, but also my daughter. I hope that listeners will reflect on their own unique mix of inheritance, the gifts and wounds and are left with the possibility of reshaping their legacy’s rather than leaving it to fate.
Your music often blends storytelling with progressive pop sounds. How do you balance narrative and musical experimentation in your work?
I don’t write with an intent to fit into a genre or to be progressive or experimental. The starting point is always following the feeling inside me and seeing where that takes me. When I wrote the song “Not You” and presented it to my piano teacher, he was worried at first that I had gone backwards in my learning. The chords were so simple compared with what he had just taught me, reflected in my previous composition, “Gustav Mahler’s letter of Intent and Alma Mahler’s Lament”. He realised later that I hadn’t regressed, it was just what was needed for this song, a lullaby to my inner child evoking nursery rhyme.
Looking forward, do you see yourself continuing to experiment with animation, visual storytelling, or other unconventional media in your future projects?
Yes I do. The message or story is always the most important starting point, but after that, anything is possible! Whilst I don’t know yet what I will be writing about in the future, I do know that when it comes to visuals, I would call Sam in a heartbeat! I am in constant awe of his talent and it is rare to find someone that you can connect with and trust both personally and professionally, so when it happens it is an absolute dream.
