If ever there was an artist whose name echoes long after the final note, it’s Karen Salicath—a name you remember not only for the music but for the mystical spaces it opens inside you. A multi-award-winning composer, pianist, and producer, Karen is a master of sound and silence, as well as prayer and performance. Born in Denmark and now living and creating between New York City and Florida, she brings over 30 years of experience as a professional visual artist into her musical universe. As a voting member of the Recording Academy, she’s not only shaping the future of music; she’s doing so with the grace of someone who’s touched both heaven and earth.
Her music, “The Light of Angel Seraphiel,” is a celestial visitation. Received in a dream and recorded in the early morning hush, this instrumental piece plays like a whispered benediction. The track was performed on her cherished 80-year-old Steinway grand piano, and you can feel the age, character, and warmth in every key pressed. It’s golden. It’s intimate. And it glows with the gentle authority of something divine.
Karen’s delivery is breathtakingly still yet emotionally charged; each note spaced with reverent care, each pause like a breath between prayers. The phrasing is delicate and purposeful, drawing you into a liminal space where time expands and everything feels hushed. It’s meditative, like a sunrise over a quiet sea. The performance is unmistakably her: thoughtful, emotionally intelligent, and deeply spiritual.
In terms of theme, “The Light of Angel Seraphiel” does exactly what it promises; it shines. Inspired by Seraphiel, the archangel of divine light and chief of the Seraphim, the music channels celestial fire, sacred wisdom, and angelic devotion. There is a powerful sense of connection to higher realms here. It doesn’t overwhelm; instead, it enlightens—a gentle reminder of what peace can feel like when translated into sound.
Production-wise, the piece is beautifully clean, unadorned, and organic. There’s no over-polishing, no studio trickery. Just Karen, her Steinway, and the hush of a room still dreaming. This restraint is a strength; it allows the essence of the song to come through undisturbed, like morning light slipping through lace curtains.
With “The Light of Angel Seraphiel,” Karen Salicath once again proves that her music isn’t simply heard—it’s experienced. It’s felt. It lingers. And in a world so often racing forward, her compositions remind us to be still, to breathe, and to listen for the sacred.
Listen to “The Light of Angel Seraphiel” on Spotify
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