“I compose quiet music for loud thoughts”

On a beautiful Monday morning, we catch up with GUIDO, the pseudonym and stage name of Guido Heeneman. The Haarlem-based composer and pianist has been active in music all his life, writing for a variety of bands, establishing himself as a highly sought-after composer for films and documentaries, but in 2017, he chose to release music under his own name. “I compose quiet music for loud thoughts,” he describes in his biography—a quest for peace and stillness in a hectic world.

Today, we dive into his story: how he found his way to the piano, the choices he made throughout his life, and how his compositions often stem from personal experiences. Time for a profile on GUIDO.

“GUIDO, great that you could make time for this interview! From previous interviews, I gather that music has been a part of you from an early age. What kind of influence did your family have on your musical development?”

“Well, actually, very little,” he begins. “There wasn’t a piano or any other instrument in our house, for example. According to my grandmother’s memories, I was always singing in the bath as a child and making my own drums. Of course, they stimulated this early musical habit of mine.”

“But how were they able to encourage it without any instruments?”

“At some point, I was so involved with music that my father bought me a small drum set. I was the one actively bringing music into the house. Later, I managed not only to bring a drum set but also a guitar and a piano in the house. The funny thing is, I was the only one really engaged with music.”

Still curious whether there is any musicality in his family, I press on. “In previous interviews, you mentioned that musical talent seems to have skipped a generation.”

Guido: “That’s right. It runs a bit further back in the family. One of my grandfathers played drums in a Dixieland band, and my other grandfather was apparently a very skilled guitarist. Something happened that made him never want to play again, but to this day, I still don’t know exactly what it was.”

“If I go even further back in my family tree, I end up with the Swiss composer Pierre Maurice—a fairly well-known composer in his time, a student of Gabriel Fauré, who left behind a quite respectable symphonic repertoire.”

“After hearing The Köln Concert by Keith Jarrett, I knew that I wanted to improvise.”

“Let’s come back to that later. Is there a particular memory in your life that was decisive for what you do now?”

“That definitely started with listening to jazz music. I was quickly drawn to Oscar Peterson, Bill Evans, and also to Erroll Garner. But the real turning point came when I was at a friend’s house, and his father played The Köln Concert by Keith Jarrett for me on an incredible sound system. It wasn’t exactly classical or pure jazz, but rather a mix of everything, and I found it fascinating that it was entirely improvised. That got me thinking—I wanted to improvise on the highest level too.”

“But if we take a step back—you started with drum lessons under John van Helsdingen (Residentie Orkest), but you were soon drawn to the piano. How did that happen?”

“During those lessons, we would always improvise freely. I’d be on the drums, and he’d be behind the piano. He played these funky, rhythmic things that really captivated me. Eventually, I started exploring blues and boogie-woogie, and I desperately wanted to be able to play that on the piano myself.”

Shortly after, GUIDO began composing his first pieces—”a tangle of notes that feel completely relaxed,” as he describes them. Improvisation remained a key element in his approach to music, which led him to choose jazz over classical music—the ultimate freedom, both in playing and in how he would eventually create his own compositions. However, he would later explore the music of Britten and Stockhausen as well.

“What ultimately led you to the conservatory?”

Guido explains: “My teacher and I set one clear goal: that no matter where I was in the world, if I walked into a jazz club, I’d be able to join in, regardless of the key or chord structures. I initially studied jazz piano, but part of my secondary courses covered neoclassical composers, where we practiced solfège and choral singing—pieces like the repertoire of Benjamin Britten. At the time, I wasn’t really in the mindset of wanting to sing his music later, but in the end, it gave me valuable skills that I still use in creating my own music today.”

“I had one goal in mind: to be able to play along in any jazz club in the world, wherever I walked in.”

“That brings me back to your great-great-grandfather, Pierre Maurice. Do you feel a musical connection with him?”

“Well, to be honest, his music is less accessible than what I create. It’s definitely a step further. Musically, we might be on different wavelengths, but if I look at a different kind of connection, he was also someone who juggled multiple things. His father wanted him to go into finance, while his heart was in music. In the end, he fully committed to music—and that’s something I definitely recognize in myself.”

“You also ended up taking a different path. After a year at the conservatory, you decided to study law. What led to that shift?”

“Yeah, it’s actually kind of funny,” he says. “My parents gave me the freedom to choose, but they did say that if I wanted to pursue music, I had to do it properly—they weren’t going to sponsor me for life. I had already made up my mind that I wanted to go into music, but I also saw the importance of having something to fall back on. Besides, law really interested me as well. I completed my year at the conservatory, and then I decided to combine studying law with making music.”

After studying law, Guido worked at Buma Stemra and Cedar for a while before landing a job at Endemol, handling the legal aspects. Alongside his office career, a promising music career began to take shape, and with a newly formed band, he looked to the future with optimism. Still, I’m curious—why didn’t he continue down that path? I ask him about the moment he realized he preferred composing.

“Well,” he begins, “the band I started with a friend was actually doing pretty well. But what I enjoyed the most were the writing camps we participated in—locking ourselves away in a cabin, doing nothing but creating music. That was just fantastic. But at some point, I had this realization: if we were to have a hit, then—if I break it down completely—I’d be playing the same chord progression 200 times a year.”

“Composing seemed much more fun than pressing the same chord progression 200 times a year.”

“But on the other hand, isn’t that supposed to be every musician’s dream?”

“Yeah, absolutely. It wasn’t just about making music—I really loved the lifestyle too. It was an adventure, to put it that way. But I also noticed that after about five performances, I could let go of everything and move on to the next thing. Composing, on the other hand, felt more like a calling. I was encouraged by people around me who told me my melodies were strong and urged me to keep writing. It just felt like the right path for me. At that point, I actually wanted to become a songwriter more than anything.”

“From your aspiration to become a songwriter to the moment you won a Buma Award for the series Krabbé zoekt Picasso—did you ever expect to be recognized for your music in that way?”

“No, not at all, especially because I didn’t come from that industry. When Armin van Buuren shook my hand and told me that just being in this dress circle meant I had already won, I was genuinely surprised. Even when I saw the films being shown on the screen, I never expected to be among the winners. When my name was finally called, I had to pinch myself. It was a truly special moment!”

Over the years, Guido has composed for numerous films, documentaries, TV themes, and even children’s songs through his own production company. Yet, the piano remains a constant thread throughout his life—an instrument where he can fully express his emotions.

“Your latest album, Family Stories Part II, is coming out soon. In the first part, you drew inspiration from old 8mm home videos. What was the moment when you knew you had to do something with them?”

“That realization came in a split second when I watched those films again for the first time in ages. It was wonderful to revisit them, and I was instantly transported back to my childhood. More than anything, I felt grateful for having had such a safe and happy upbringing. But at the same time, seeing moving images of my late father again after so many years also evoked a deep sense of longing. Those films captured something precious, and I knew I had to translate that feeling into music.”

I ask him whether seeing those images of his father felt confronting or rather comforting.

“Yes, it was definitely beautiful. During that period, I also dreamt about him a lot, which, in hindsight, might have been part of a grieving process. His early passing motivated me to make the most of life whenever possible.”

“And how did that connect to your composition process?”

“I started working on it in my studio almost immediately, and from an artistic perspective, I quickly realized that this could become a very special and deeply personal album. Up until that point, I felt like I had never really released an official album. And when that deep personal layer came into play, I was reminded of something Quentin Tarantino once said: ‘Art should be so personal that you feel embarrassed to put it out into the world.’ I didn’t feel embarrassed per se, but I did find it a bit challenging to figure out how to share this story in the right way.”

‘Art should be so personal that you feel embarrassed to put it out into the world’ – Quentin Tarantino

As I completely agree with Tarantino’s words I ask him: “Speaking of that vulnerability, you’ve written several pieces about your father, including Un Jour Triste. It must be quite complex to capture those emotions in music?”

“That’s true—it was definitely a journey. But what you hear in that piece is something I truly mean. I think that honesty resonates with people and can be inspiring for others who have also lost someone. I actually receive quite a lot of messages about it.”

“What also struck me in your story is that you mentioned your brother dreamed about your father for the first time after at least 10 years you performed this music in Paradiso—something he had never experienced before (which he did rarely before). How did that affect you?”

“That was really special. Especially because he had never had such an experience before. It definitely moved me emotionally.”

Just as he moved his brother during that special night at Paradiso, Guido says his mission is to touch people and encourage them to dive into their own thoughts and emotions.

“What is the most remarkable audience reaction you’ve ever experienced?”

“I often receive responses to my music, but the most special one was from a woman who was terminally ill with cancer. She told me that she listened to my music a lot and had bought a ticket with her daughters to come to my concert at Paradiso. I kept in touch with her quite a bit. I don’t know if she’s still alive, but that was truly moving. It just goes to show that music has a comforting effect in ways you don’t always expect.”

“The fact that music can have such a healing effect on emotions is truly beautiful,” I say. “Soon, you’ll be presenting the second part of Family Stories, and you’ll be performing at the Kleine Zaal of the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam.”

“Once again, a very special moment,” he replies. “I already have a rough idea of the setlist—Un Jour Triste is on there, for example. But I’m still figuring out how to shape the stories I want to tell around the music.

As we wrap up our conversation, one last question comes to mind. “You’ve built an impressive career, with a sold-out Concertgebouw as a major highlight. Are there still musical dreams you’d like to pursue?”

“Funny you ask,” he replies. “If I really dare to dream out loud, then the Royal Albert Hall in London is still at the top of my list.”

“I once attended a Yann Tiersen concert there, and just walking into that building was an incredible experience in itself. But if I look at the shorter term, performing abroad in general would already be amazing. My music is already reaching an international audience, but mostly online. How great would it be to actually get those people to buy a ticket for my show?”

“One last question about your new album. Which track should everyone listen to, and why?”

“I think I’d have to say Un Jour Triste again. From the very beginning, it felt like the most moving piece. And why? Because it truly captures the day of saying goodbye to someone. In my case, it was my own father, but anyone can relate to it in their own way.”

And with this closing note, we reach the end of our journey through Guido’s musical universe. A humble man who finds strength in vulnerability and honesty. We’ve heard about his dreams of being able to walk into any jazz club and play, the seemingly indirect path through a law degree that eventually led him to his true calling in music, but above all, about the piano as his unwavering anchor in life. His compositions are like quiet whispers, gently taking you by the hand and guiding you to memories of the past.

Soon, he’ll be sitting in the Kleine Zaal of the Concertgebouw, eyes closed over his keys, the notes filling the space. In the meantime, we can look forward to Family Stories Part II—and if you’re wondering where to start listening, Un Jour Triste is the answer. Dive in, I’d say, just as Guido does when he touches the keys—with complete dedication, a smile, a tear, and the knowledge that music can sometimes reach deeper than words ever could.

Thank you, Guido.