Gia Tudoran — also known as ENERGIA or Gia Energia — debuted in the Romanian rap scene with a bang in 2011, a year later diving into collaborations with respected underground artists such as Chimie or Bass Turbat.

What has been your greatest obstacle in your music career so far?

Myself. Anything else would either be a pretext or an uncontrollable external factor. I could’ve said the sexism. The comments about going back to the kitchen to make sandwiches, “fucking all rappers” or — my “favorite” — “You deserve to be r*ped in the ass with a knife.” Or the xenophobia. A “cunt” spitting in English, in post-communist Romania? “God forbid.” Or the lack of support on a local level. Or the lack of music production resources in line with my vision. Or a gazillion other excuses. These weren’t obstacles in my music endeavors. On the contrary, they motivated me to continue when I’d wanted to throw in the towel for ages. I was my single biggest obstacle.

For the past 21 years, I’ve been struggling with annual cycles of brutal depressive episodes. Brutal. I self-isolate, disappear from the face of the internet for months — sometimes years — at a time, and numb myself with workaholism to stay afloat. Mix these with toxic perfectionism, impostor syndrome, and continuous anxiety, and it’s easy to understand why I was my own greatest obstacle and wanted to quit music. And in 2019, I did. I’d reached a point in which I had to choose between mental health and music, and I chose mental health without looking back.

In the midst of the pandemic (and the midst of a brutal depressive episode), I had the privilege of moving back to the United States, where I grew up. And I left, abruptly, without announcing 80% of the people in my life.

The first years back were rough, but things have started looking up in the past several months. Mentally. Creatively. Everything. After countless consecutive years of numbness, I now wake up with a relentless passion for life, and writing, and experimenting with different mediums, and it’s incredible. 

How was moving to Miami? What’s your workflow like there? 

Abrupt and chaotic. Moving to Miami was like a sucker punch, coupled with the reality of any immigrant: it doesn’t matter how great you were back home — here, you’re nobody. The lazy palm trees and bright pink sunsets soften the blow, but you’re still nobody, with nothing.

I needed to hustle for about two more years to regain balance. Fortunately, I was used to the cadence from back home: work is life, life is work. Now, in a country where many of the born-and-bred are experts in making it seem like they’re busy instead of actually working, a typically Romanian hardcore work ethic is a good skill to have.

After constant depression and constant hustle, I finally got a break. About a year ago, I landed the dopest day job I could ever hope for. I’m grateful to be the Creative Director of an incredible nonprofit organization that amplifies the new generation of young people who are changing the world — We Are Family Foundation, founded by music legend Nile Rodgers, recipient of the GRAMMYs Lifetime Achievement Award who has worked with Beyoncé, Madonna, Daft Punk, Pharrell, David Bowie, and more.

Then, a few months ago, I reached out for help for my mental health. It made all the difference. Once I was back to neutral, I found myself slipping slowly but surely towards positive. Once I was positive, I started to step into music again. Baby steps, but curious steps.

The Psychonaut, a good friend and Germany-based Romanian techno producer & DJ, hit me up to see if he could use a spoken work vocal from a video edit I’d made for a track he was working on. When I heard how the text and tone sounded over techno, I went nuts. I felt what I hadn’t felt in over five years — the desire to write music again. So, after years in which I thought I would never touch a mic again, I jumped back into sessions. But, this time, experimental storytelling on techno beats. 

Shortly after, I reconnected with another good and talented friend — VIllAIN, multi-subgenre electronic music producer & DJ from Romania, whom I’d collaborated with several years prior for a dubstep-trap fusion track performed live with metal instrumentalists. Along with the recent reconnection, we also had some deep conversations about music, mental health, and creativity. He convinced me to not be afraid of experimenting with full-fledged songs again, and the rest is history.

Since then, I’m writing non-stop, we’re working non-stop, and what’s resurfacing along the way sounds badass. In terms of workflow, we engage in virtual sessions at weird times for the guys (since they’re in Europe), with long conceptual conversations and back-and-forth feedback until the idea reaches the best version of itself to exist. As always, I work with MVD MVN (former Art Director PORC, Deliric x Silent Strike I & II, Șatra B.E.N.Z. – O.$.O.D. IV, etc.) for visuals, and the artworks will be jaw-dropping. At the same time, I’ve been immersing myself in the electronic music community in Miami, and I’m grateful for meeting numerous DJs and producers with whom I’m connected creatively and energetically.

Overall, we’re cooking. And we’re getting ready to serve. Summer 2024.

Nowadays, there’s a heated debate around the idea that “anyone can be a DJ” and that more and more parties seek out niche DJs. What are your thoughts?

I don’t agree with the first part. It’s like that saying from the photography world, “Anyone can buy a camera, but not everyone can be a photographer.” Same goes for DJing. Regardless of location or genre.

You can buy a console tomorrow and say you’re a DJ. But if you’ve ever paid attention to a great set, at a great party — but truly paid attention, observing the intricacy of the mix, the techniques, selection, timing, transitions, etc. — you already know it’s far more complicated than most would think. At least if you respect the art form and honor it through hard work, dedication, and 10,000 hours. To quote ESKEI83, real DJing is not dead, and when you see the likes of James Hype or Fred again.. going ham on the decks, it’d be ignorant to think that anyone could easily achieve that level of mastery.

However, the piece about seeking niche DJs is interesting. In Miami, at least, many of those working towards becoming full-time DJs embrace “open format” to approach opportunities with flexibility. On the other hand, many of the actual parties are pretty niche in and of themselves. This city is built on cultural diversity, and you’ll find just as many Bad Bunny and Maluma stans as ravers who hit up Space or Domicile weekend after weekend. As such, promoters tend to address specific communities, or at least engage in fusions that make sense.

Ultimately, if we were to test the theory that anyone can be a DJ — open format or niche — they would have to commit years and years to sleepless work nights, hours and hours of tweaking sets to perfection, and, of course, those 10,000 hours of practice. And I don’t think just anyone is willing to sacrifice that much for this, at least after they realize that you need more than a console to call yourself a DJ.

What’s your signature song? What’s the story behind it?

5:43am. The most beautiful single that I’ll never realease. 

It was the last one I wrote before quitting. Nostalgic-electronic sonic universe, sprinkled with 80s synths and a bassline that makes your heart sing. Narrative lyrics, illustrating all the stages of a dizzy night on the streets until 5:43 in the morning — the approximate time that the sun rose that summer in that area. Each stanza began with a timestamp, and each new interval of time amplified the rhythm of both the storytelling and the emotions involved.

As method writing is intrinsic to my creative work, the song was inspired by real experiences with my partner during countless nights lost in Bucharest, and I wanted to document it in the same tone. We went out with an old-school camcorder one night and I shot home-video-style footage in the same dark, colorful, and melancholic space where I’d shot C8H11NO2 (Dopamine/Dopamină). I’d succeeded in editing about a minute and a half of the music video. The song was gorgeous, but unmastered. I lost the projects for both.

5:43am will never see the light of day, but it remains my signature song — for the emotions, for the storytelling, for the energy — and the most beautiful song that I’ll never release.

You stopped releasing music for a few years. What was your relationship with music like in general during that time?

Complicated and toxic. I firmly believed that I wouldn’t ever touch music again, that I didn’t need another trigger to destroy my brain even more than it was already.

I’d reached a point where I wasn’t even listening to music that much, just an album I’d been anticipating from time to time. I’d attended some dope concerts in the area, from Pusha T to Rolling Loud with A$AP Rocky and Travis Scott (the biggest influences in my rap era), but they didn’t hit the same from an inspiration perspective. Year after year, my connection with music was never the same.

But the complicated and toxic relationship wasn’t just in this field. With writing, in general, it was exactly the same. After a wonderful period of time in which I’d spilled my soul on the experimental storytelling blog Gold Bars, I couldn’t write anymore. Looking back, however, it makes sense. Music had always been another branch of writing for me, above all else.

I drowned in writer’s block for years, to the point where I thought I’d never do anything dope again. Then my brain started to get a little better, and I started writing with strangers on the internet in real time. We found each other — a handful of lost multidisciplinary souls — and we joined forces to get out of creative block together. That’s how @fuckcreativeblock came to exist, in which every weekend we hang out on Instagram Live and tell stories together. We create collaborative moodboards and playlists for our characters, we make decisions together for the plot points, and we write interactively, with suggestions through comments. It’s amazing, and it gives me fuel to continue writing music as well.

The time in which I backed away from music was strange, sad, soul-crushing. That’s why nobody heard from me for years on end, when I disappeared from the internet and lives of my IRL loved ones. But now things are better, and they’re going to get even better, and I’m thankful to the stars and back for all this.

What makes you smile?

When I succeed in making someone I care about smile when they need it the most.

Stranger. Old friend. Collaborator. Partner. Random girl in line for the bathroom at a rave. Doesn’t matter.

Honest, warm, and soul-centered connections with people make me smile more than anything. If I succeed in helping that person have a boost of self-confidence at the end of the conversation, I’m the happiest person in the world. There was a time when I forgot what it felt like to smile. I was the person who needed it more than anything. But now I can gift this to other people, and it’s wonderful.

If you’re not in a position to smile right now, keep going. Keep fighting. It gets better, even when you think it never will. And if you need a smile during a rough time, text me on @fuckcreativeblock. We’ll make it easier to get there together. 

 

BIO & USEFUL LINKS:

2011: debut single ENERGIA

2012: collab Chimie & Rareș – Pălăria șarpelui (album: Chimie – Mambo Siria)

2012: Live MC-ing (EDM) collab with Bass Turbat; debut: Street Heroes 2012, subsequent shows in Bucharest,, Constanța, Craiova

2013: Live MC-ing (Liquid DnB) collab with Tru:L; Cutz&Vibez Romania Special for Juice Radio (USA)

2015: opening act REVERIE concert in Bucharest with de Gani & MGee

2016: Romania representative in the international project Call Me Femcee (FR):

2016: founding member of MUZE, the only all-female, five-person rap crew in Romania, ENERGIA, Gani, Liry, MGee & Undercover; 

2016: mixtape launch ENERGIA – The Word Hustler

2017: bilingual single launch ENERGIA – C8H11NO2 (Dopamine/Dopamină)

2017: album launch MUZE, O să fie bine

2018: single launch ENERGIA – smoke&write

2018: interview House of Girls (DE)

2019: IOSAIA launch, single + campanie

2019: single launch BPVSV (Vreau să vorbesc), cu sprijinul Decât o Revistă (DoR)

2019: invited on the compilation Fetele cu care cânt, hosted b Marpha Hip Hop

2019: collab VIllAIN – Turn Up!, albumul Codex Gigas

2019: feature 365 Fe*male MCs (DE/EN)

2019: stopped making music

2021: relocated back to the United States (Miami, Florida) 

2024 (in progress): returning to music; transitioning to the electronic space, projects in the works with The Psychonaut and VIllAIN; first tracks dropping Summer 2024