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Tag: Music

urika’s bedroom

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · urika’s bedroom
Words · Andrea Bratta

During a torrid LA day, NR spoke with urika’s bedroom about Big Smile, Black Mire, urika’s debut album. A conversation whose range was as eclectic as the influences behind UB’s debut record: From architectural youtube rabbit holes, to how tech changed the way we listen and the playlistification or albums, passing by his midwestern-emo background, shooting commercial fashion ads in LA, and what makes music an entirely unique artistic medium.

Three’s the charm, we finally manage to get on call together! 

Yes, at last! I heard of the crazy thunderstorm you had in Milan..

Cut my place’s power off completely for 24 hours, it was absurd. How’s it going in LA? 

Yeah, it’s been crazy hot, and the power’s gone out a few times because of the heat. I think everyone was using so much energy with air conditioning that it caused a power surge on the grid.

You’ve got some big weeks ahead, right? The record is almost out. How are you feeling?

I’m feeling okay. Honestly, I haven’t really thought too much about it. My mind’s been on other life stuff and working on new music.

There’s a lot of layers to urika’s bedroom. Let’s start from the project’s visual identity. It feels very important. You are personally curating the art and creative direction yourself, right? 

It’s a bit of both. We just shot a music video directed by my friend Rich Smith, where I took a more hands-off approach. But I’m also planning another video that I’ll shoot entirely myself.

How long have you been working on Big Smile, Black Mire? I’m asking this because your bio mentions 2019, so I’m especially curious about the project’s genesis and how it has evolved.

It all started after playing in my friend’s band, 2070, for a few years. I was playing drums, then bass, and we played a lot around LA. Around 2021, I decided to focus on my own stuff again. I committed to recording a song every day for a month, and if it was good, I’d put it straight on Bandcamp. That’s how a few people started to notice what I was doing.

So it’s been about three years in the making?

Yeah, the oldest song on the record is probably three years old, early 2021. Earlier this year, I started reworking them with my friend Silas, who has a project called Tracy. It was fun to deconstruct and rebuild them without feeling like anything was too precious.

So it was almost like a collage, or patchwork approach to composing?

Exactly. We didn’t want to give every song the same treatment. It’s kind of like cutting a hole in something and patching it up in a new way.

The record feels very cohesive, but there’s definitely a shift in sonic landscapes, especially on tracks like bsbm, Post War, and Circle Games. Were you consciously trying to explore different palettes for the record, or did that come together in post-production?

I tend to finish most of a song in one or two days, and I’m not great at continuing to work on it after that. But with this project, I sat on a lot of the songs and reworked them later. Silas and I didn’t approach it with a strict plan. We’d just play around with deconstructing and reconstructing the tracks, keeping it open to experimentation.

Yeah, now that you mention it, I can definitely feel that and track it in certain parts of the record. You’ve managed to blend a wide range of sonic influences, which ties back to what you said about working with so many other people. I read that you’ve also produced, mixed, and mastered tracks for other artists. That experience and know-how, being able to move between different sounds and styles, definitely comes through. Would you say there’s an underlying theme behind the record? I know you mentioned having a more natural, unstructured approach to making music, but was there a certain feeling or concept you wanted to convey with this album?

The main thing I wanted to explore was conflict—internal versus external. If the instrumentation felt dark, I’d lean toward brighter lyrics or vice versa. It was about finding tension between different elements, like referencing artists from opposite ends of the spectrum. I’d listen to Arca but also to Smashing Pumpkins. I didn’t want to shy away from any influence, no matter how different they seemed.

I peeped a little bit at your Spotify profile, listening to a lot of what’s on there to get a sense of where your influences come from. It’s such a wide range—from bossanova to post-club sounds, with some shoegaze in between. You can really feel that heterogeneity in your music. While listening to the record, I made a note about ‘free association’ because it feels like you blend elements in a way that flows naturally, almost unconsciously. It reminds me of surrealism in poetry, with that same fluid, unstructured creativity. I see that reflected not only in the music but also in the visuals and overall aesthetic of Eureka Bedroom. So, I’m curious—what are some of your other visual and musical influences? Where do you see the project heading?

I think a lot of my visual inspiration comes from late-night YouTube rabbit holes. I’ve been really into mid-to-late 20th-century contemporary ballet and dance films, as well as architecture, like the work of Ensemble Studios. It’s Anton and Deborah Mesa, and they create some really amazing, earthwork-inspired architecture. It feels similar to music for me in some ways. Visually, it’s very powerful, and I’m always trying to figure out what could serve as a kind of visual monument, you know?

That’s fascinating. What would you say is the connection you see between Ensemble Studios’ architecture and your music?

I can’t always explain it, but I think the way physical spaces look, their design and form, really inspire me. It’s almost unknowable, even to me sometimes, but it definitely has an impact.

Are there pieces of music you feel serve as sonic equivalents of monuments? What would you say are some “monuments” in music for you, and what does monumentality in music mean to you today?

I think everyone has a few musical pieces that leave a lasting impression, like monuments. For me, one of those is Demon Days by Gorillaz. It’s not necessarily where I’m at musically today, but as a kid, that album was huge for me. I only had one CD for a long time, so I’d just cycle through Demon Days over and over. That album became a monument in my mind—not necessarily because of what it is, but because of how it imprinted on me at that time.

Totally. I remember listening to entire albums as a kid too: You get the cd out of its case, you’ve got your little stereo. There’s a rituality to it –Something about that full-album experience we don’t get as much today.

There’s a deeper connection when you listen to an album front to back. Even the songs you don’t like as much give context to the ones you do love, you know?

It’s true. Today, we consume music so differently with playlists, grabbing moments here and there instead of immersing ourselves in the full journey of an album.

Yeah, that’s exactly it. Playlists can feel like you’re watching scenes from different movies, disconnected. Everything’s song-based now, and it kind of flattens the experience.

I completely agree. We’re in this Instagram highlights culture where everything’s a snapshot. That even seeps into how music is produced, right? Some artists might focus more on single tracks rather than how they’ll fit into the larger picture of an album.

For sure. I think some musicians—though not all—create with playlists in mind, knowing their songs will likely end up separated from the album context.

On your record, I noticed you feature a female voice in a few tracks. Was that a way of adding contrast to your own vocals, or was there another intention behind it?

It was both, I think. The voice definitely breaks up what I’m doing vocally, adding a new texture. But more than that, the person I worked with is someone I’m very close to, and we developed those parts together through a lot of free association. We’d bounce ideas off each other and build meaning that way. It brought a sense of release between the more intense songs, like a palette cleanser before diving back.

That makes sense. Did you consider how this would translate to a live performance, with those interludes providing moments of contrast in a live setting?

The first one we made was specifically for a live show intro. It was before our first tour, and I didn’t have enough material yet. I wanted a strong way to start the show, so we recorded that voice for that. I thought it would really capture the room if we played it loud, and it became this presence that commanded attention.

I love that. It reminds me of the resurgence of spoken word and audiobooks lately. There’s something powerful about placing emphasis on the voice and the word, especially in music as layered as yours. Speaking of writing, what inspires you when you’re writing lyrics? Are there certain themes you find yourself returning to?

It’s coming from a place of relatability. I always try to channel something meaningful. That might be the Midwest emo influence. I remember when I was younger, listening to these records where people were saying some pretty messed-up stuff. But as a kid, all I heard was the pain, and it felt protective somehow, like it was helping me through whatever teenage drama I was dealing with at the time.

It’s amazing how we can reinterpret songs or lyrics as we grow, and they take on new meanings based on where we are in life.

Yeah, that’s the beauty of it. The listener’s perspective is almost more important than the lyrics themselves.

There’s something about music that really gets to me, even now. I can’t fully explain what it is, but it reaches me in a way that no other medium does. I love reading, and writing is my bread and butter—that’s how I make a living. Words are my craft, but there’s a certain power in instrumentals, in sound, in the way a voice carries a note. It’s not always about the meaning of the words, but the tone, the texture of the voice, that can hit so deeply. Music has a kind of emotional weight that I don’t think any other medium can match. It’s something I’ve always felt, and maybe one day I’ll be able to articulate it more clearly, but for now, it’s just this indescribable force that stays with me.

Music has this unique ability to hit your nervous system immediately, without any barriers. With something like reading, you have to think about it, process it. But music? It bypasses all of that. You feel it right away.

There are barriers with most forms of expression, but not with music. It’s true. Maybe that’s why classical and instrumental music can move me so deeply. Certain instruments, like the piano—when I hear those first few notes, I’m instantly hooked and mesmerized. It touches me right away, without any defenses, which is incredible. I think that’s why music is something I’ll never tire of. I’m always curious and a good listener; I consume a lot of different sounds. Writing music, though—that’s something I could never do. That’s why I love talking to musicians, to try to understand their process from a closer perspective.

It’s like, the moment you hear it, you feel it.

I’m always fascinated by that. As someone who writes about music, I can never fully explain what makes it so special. 

Even for those of us creating it, we don’t always fully understand what’s happening in the moment. We just follow where it leads.

It sounds like you tap into a flow state when you’re creating—like you’re functioning at your best when you’re not overthinking it.

I’m not even aware of the process. It just happens.

That’s amazing. It’s like tapping into something deeper, letting go of control.

Exactly. That’s where real creativity happens.

The skills required of independent musicians has changed over the years. Today, you have to be multifaceted—composing, writing, being your own art director, press guy etc. It’s exciting, but do you find it tiring? Would you prefer to focus solely on music and leave the rest to trusted collaborators, or are you okay with handling everything yourself?

Honestly, I’m such a control freak that the more I collaborate, the more I think, “I should just do this myself.” I know it would be nice to let go a bit and work with others, but I tend to be too neurotic for that. I’d rather handle it myself than send someone 50 revisions just to get it done my way.

Collaboration can be beautiful but also challenging. It’s very personal, especially with a project that means so much to you. I feel more relaxed working on other people’s projects, but with my own, it can feel too personal to hand it off to others.

Exactly. I’m still learning how to navigate that. I feel that the project’s coherence and unity are essential, and that’s part of what drew me to it in the first place.

Speaking of your project, you mentioned a big tour. Where are you headed next?

We’re touring Europe, hitting places like Brussels and Germany. I don’t think we’re doing Italy, though.

Last but not least. Why urika’s bedroom?

Honestly, I don’t think there’s a deep story behind it. I liked the sound of it. I can’t even remember how I came up with it, but I don’t think there’s much meaning behind it.

Photography · Donovan Novotny

DJ LOSER

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · DJ LOSER
Words · Andrea Bratta

One must imagine Sisyphus happy with DJ LOSER

Everyone is a loser, according to Magdalena’s Apathy label head Pantelis Terzoglou, and that might actually be something quite liberating. For Terzoglou ego is not in the picture, only music. You might know him as the experimental ambient project Angel’s Corpse, or underground club legend DJ LOSER. NR spoke with him about creative needs, the importance of isolation in creation, and how to remain true to yourself without sacrificing your career, whatever that term means, today, for an artist.

As we were speaking off the record, you mentioned curating a soundtrack for a brand? Could you tell me more about that?

Yeah, it’s for a brand from Oslo, run by EriK Spanne, Duy Ngo and Tomas Silva. They’ve got this emerging brand called 1313 Selah, and their fashion show happened in late August. Me and Erik have been collaborating since before the brand officially started, mainly through music. They’ve connected with one of my sub-projects, Angel’s Corpse, which is more ambient, with elements of gabber and hardcore. It fits perfectly with their vision for their current collection.

Is this something that you’re really interested in, given that it’s a bit different from your usual, more club-oriented work?

Definitely. My initial drive was just to produce music and create audiovisual art, which is why I also started my label. My approach isn’t limited to club music, though that’s the most recognizable project of mine. My creativity spans different genres and styles, depending on where my inspiration takes me. Like, five or six years ago, I was into slower BPMs and more industrial soundscapes inspired by the late 80s.

So, while DJ Loser is club-oriented, my broader artistic vision goes beyond that. Projects like Angel’s Corpse let me explore those other sides. I’m not actively chasing career opportunities for this ambient direction, but if opportunities like this come my way, and I feel inspired, I’ll follow them.

Would you say that’s the same philosophy behind how you run your label?

Exactly, it’s a natural flow. When I started the label, it was just an outlet for a noise-industrial sub-project of mine called Magdalena’s Apathy. I was doing a few tape releases and eventually decided I wanted more control over everything — not just the music, but also the visuals and narrative around the releases.

I’m very much into world-building, so creating an all-encompassing aesthetic for my projects became essential. I even brought back CDs, because they fit my generation’s vibe and aesthetic. The label was initially just a personal project, but it’s expanded as more people connected with it. Now, I treat it like a platform for friends and people who resonate with what I’m doing.

So it’s more of an artistic platform than a business operation?

Exactly. I’m focused on being an artist first, rather than a ‘label owner’. Of course, I know how to handle the distribution and promotion side, but I don’t want to force anything or break the natural flow of the project. That’s how I’ve managed to make a living through music, by following what truly inspires me, rather than chasing trends or commercial success.Feels more fitting to my ways.

Where do you start when building a world around your music?

Most of the time, it starts with an emotional or aesthetic vision. I maintain focus for music that is about conveying feelings, not genres or styles. I aim to translate the way I feel & see things into sound, and then build the visuals around that. When I curate releases from others, I give them total creative freedom and then try to match their music with a fitting visual narrative. It’s about giving people an emotional and aesthetic experience, not just music.At least that’s my opinion on what a release should be doing. I think emotions and aesthetics connected in a personal direction lead to an impactful experience. A trance track can evoke the same feelings as an ambient track, a trap track or whatever. For me, it’s all about conveying those emotions, and that’s why my label and platform are not limited to a single genre. I want to capture the raw human experience in its many forms, whether it’s through club music, experimental sounds, or something more ambient.

What emotions would you say drive your music?

The need to express oneself is the biggest one. I’ve always felt a need to, and connect with people and society afterwards on a deeper level, beyond just words. Music allows me to express emotions and experiences that are hard to put into words. It’s not about social commentary for me; it’s more about creating a shared emotional space through sound. It’s my way of overcoming isolation and finding companionship too I suppose.

That resonates with me too. There’s an Italian saying that translates to “every translation is a form of treason,” meaning words can never fully capture the original meaning. Music, especially instrumental pieces, often conveys emotion more directly, without the barriers of language. How do you feel about talking about music — your own or in general?

Talking about music can be difficult. I can do it, but it’s tricky. It almost feels like betraying the core of what I’m trying to express or what music exists for. If I wanted to say what I mean in words, I’d probably be a writer, not a musician. Music is my language for things that can’t be fully expressed with words,or words distort the point.

I get that, I guess it’s also why even though I am an avid listener, I could never write music. Switching gears a bit, how do you view DJing in comparison to producing? Is that also a form of communication?

DJing is definitely different from producing, but it’s still a form of communication. It’s less introspective and more about connecting with people in the moment. When I DJ, I’m responding to the crowd and creating a shared experience. It’s like setting the vibe and guiding people through a moment together. I love the challenge of reading the crowd and helping them lose themselves in the music. It’s a great way to feel connected to others, in a more social way than producing music alone in the studio.

How’s the electronic music scene in Greece, particularly in your city? I visit Greece often—my aunt married a Greek guy and lives in Patras, so part of my family is there. But Patras is very different. I’m curious about Thessaloniki and whether growing up there influenced your approach to music, or did you feel more inspired by what was happening elsewhere? I grew up in Bari, which had a somewhat decent music scene, especially for Techno, but I was still more attracted to what was happening outside. So I was always online, searching and nerding out, and maybe that’s why I ended up doing what I do today.

Yeah, so I’m in Thessaloniki, not Athens, and there are definitely differences in both the quality and quantity of what’s happening culturally in the two cities. Thessaloniki has always had some presence of electronic music during my years here. It used to be bigger when I was a kid, based on what people told me, but from my experience, it was more about one big commercial event—your typical stereotypical, generic tech sound. At the same time, there’s always been an underground culture, which happens mostly in university spaces, raves, or small basement parties. I used to attend those places before I became a producer, and they definitely inspired me in terms of the nightlife. But when it came to the identity of the sound, I didn’t always connect with what was going on in the city. For example, when I was into more industrial and desolate sounds, Thessaloniki wasn’t offering that, so I had to go online to find what I needed. Now, the city is growing faster, especially because younger generations are more open and online, bringing new ideas. I’ve been to some gigs recently, and compared to 8 or 10 years ago, people are more open and much more up-to-date. But the biggest problem in Thessaloniki is the lack of good venues, and that’s what holds me back from being more active or bringing in artists. We just don’t have proper clubs with decent sound systems that can support creative ideas. So you either do something in a small bar that occasionally acts like a club, or you take the risk of throwing an underground rave—renting equipment and doing it illegally. But in Greece, it’s easy to get caught, and i’m not in the mood or age to jerk around honestly. Thessaloniki is a beautiful city, though. Honestly, Andrea, I’ve thought about moving to bigger cities like Berlin, London, or Copenhagen. But whenever I visit those places and stay for a few days, I find myself pulled into the social scene more than I might need to. My creative needs are fed in terms of input—there’s so much going on and lots of inspiration from people. But the downside is, I lose that time for myself, that alone time where I can focus on my own production and rhythm. My creativity thrives more when I’m isolated. I’ve come to realize that, as a producer, I work best as a hermit. When I’m in an environment that doesn’t necessarily feed my creativity, it forces me to search for inspiration from within more naturally. That isolation allows me to produce more original ideas. Does that make sense?

Absolutely. Living in Milan and working in Paris, I get it. I’m constantly moving between these two big cities, working with artists, musicians, and fashion brands. So I’m always in social contexts, bringing people together, meeting new people—but it’s not always real or deeply felt. Our conversation now feels more open and honest than many social interactions I have. My job requires a lot of writing and thinking, and I always feel this sense of fatigue, like I’m being pulled in different directions. It’s something I’m learning to embrace as part of maturing, while for you, it’s more about finding your own spaces. I think we’re both figuring it out, in different ways. How do you navigate the online world? On one hand, we have all these platforms where we can research and get inspired, but it’s easy to get lost because there’s so much content. How do you keep your identity online, especially as a label head or someone who curates for others?

For me, I’m very comfortable with the online lifestyle. I’ve always been into it. I grew up in internet cafes and was part of online communities from a young age, whether it was for video games or music. So navigating the online world for inspiration—whether it’s music, art, films, or games—doesn’t feel disorienting to me. I know how to find what I need and how to navigate it all. But social media is different. It’s much more distracting, and it creates this spiral of ego battles, comparing yourself to others. When I’m online in general, I feel fine, but after spending 5 or 10 minutes on Instagram or Twitter, I’m like, “What am I doing here?” It’s not about content; it’s about ego. So I don’t spend much time on social media anymore. I post what I need to post, read my messages, and then get off. Instagram, in particular, feels like a necessary evil—it’s important for people in our line of work, but it’s also incredibly distracting and can kill your creative flow. It feeds ego more than ideas, so I try to stay away as much as possible. People know they can reach me through other platforms, and I communicate more through email than social media regarding music and art. I find that’s a much better way to protect my creative energy and avoid distractions.

You’ve always tried to control your ego, right? How has that been, especially with the surprising success you’ve had?

Yeah, it’s been a journey. In the beginning, I didn’t get any ego boost from it—I was genuinely shocked that people were even interested in my music. I’m self-taught, no formal music education, just learning by ear and experimenting with software on my own. My first setup was literally in the same kitchen I live in now, with these basic Logitech speakers. So when my first tapes and vinyl releases came out, I was like, “What the hell is happening?” It felt like the endgame dream, but I never expected it. The tricky part nowadays is social media. When I’m out, meeting people, or navigating social circles, I don’t have any sense or thoughts of comparison. Whether I’m interacting with someone less known than me, someone much more famous, or a fan, there’s no ego clash. That’s just how I am in person. But social media, man—it makes you behave differently. Its made up this way that everyone ,even for a few moments, end up subconsciously judging people’s work based on their follower count, like giving more attention to someone’s work with 15k followers over someone’s with 500. It’s messed up. That’s why I actively try not to get caught up in it. I don’t want to let my ego be influenced by this false narrative.

Speaking of ego, what’s the story behind the ‘DJ Loser’ moniker?

Because I think that everyone is a loser! [laughs]

What do you mean by that?

Yeah, in my philosophical view, everyone is a loser because people spend their whole lives running, trying to create a life and memories centered around themselves—their experiences, emotions, all of it. But in the end, we die, and we forget everything. Nothing matters because of this absence of personal remembrance , but not in a nihilistic way. It’s more like, if you live with yourself consciously,, there’s a kind of inherent futility to it.

That reminds me of the Sisyphus myth.

Exactly. Both the actual ancient Greek myth was a lesson, and the Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus’ was one of my favorite books when I was younger. It helped me deal with my thanatophobia—my intense fear of death. Camus talks about ‘philosophical suicide’ and that idea really helped me navigate my fears.

Thanatophobia? That’s fascinating. How does that impact your life?

It’s the root of all anxieties, honestly. Fear of death is the mother of all anxieties. It’s the only absolute truth, you know? Everything else—stress, worry or even ambitions—is just masking that fear.
And when you actually grasp it, it’s mind-blowing. You reach this point where you’re like, “What the fuck?” I get what the Stoics were saying, like “Death is where you aren’t, so why care about it?” But for me, that’s the literal problem. It’s about the absence of consciousness and memory. It can feel like torture technique, honestly, to live, enjoy life, then have it all erased. That’s the crux of my fear—not death itself, but the idea that I will cease to think,feel, everything, even the things I value most.

So your fear of death is more about losing memory than losing life?

Exactly. I’m pretty much convinced that death is like a dreamless sleep—there’s just nothing after. So what’s the point of experiencing life if I won’t remember any of it? It’s not about it being pointless, it feels almost cruel. We’re biologically wired to keep living, to pass on our genes, but in the end, none of it matters because we won’t even remember.

Does this outlook inform your creative process? Does art help you deal with that fear?

It definitely does. Trauma and personal experiences shaped me into who I am, and they’ve pushed me toward art as a form of expression. Music was never a conscious career choice—Doing music was a need and I’m lucky enough to be able to live the life I’m living. Music was Something I had to do to boost the need of trying to make sense out of everything. And it helps. I try to live as authentically as possible, even in this capitalist system. I know what I have to do to push my career faster, how to market myself better, but that’s not true to who I am. I want to live my life in a way that’s honest to me, without selling out or losing my identity in the process.

Let’s forget death for a moment. I think we might get into a downward spiral that, albeit extremely interesting, I would avoid for our readers. What’s next for you? Any projects or upcoming gigs you’re focused on?

Right now, my focus is on my side project, Angel’s Corpse. It’s less club-oriented,based on the traditional sense, and more esoteric, diving deeper into themes like thanatophobia. It makes me feel more comfortable with those heavy ideas. As for gigs, I had my second label night in Berlin in August with a lineup that’s pretty hot—Brodinski, Evit Manji, Van Boom, and 0111001101110100. Berlin’s nightlife scene gives me the chance to curate a night with my vision in mind, and that’s a big deal for me.There are more gigs coming in Europe this fall both under DJ LOSER & Angel’s Corpse projects.

On the label side, we’ve got releases lined up—some from U.S. and European artists, ranging from experimental ambient to what I call “emo trance.” I don’t force a strict release schedule though. Creativity needs space, so things will drop when they’re ready. My main goal is just to keep doing what I love and help others express themselves too.

For your label nights, do you aim to create a fully immersive experience? Like curating thewhole aesthetic?

That’s definitely the goal—to create a 360-degree experience from the venue design to the sound. Right now, I’m focusing on curating the lineup and sound, but eventually, I want to control every aspect of the night. I could see that happening easier somewhere outside of Greece,but it’s one of my goals to be able to hold a night like that here though.

Looking forward to seeing how it evolves. And perhaps meeting you over drinks so we can spiral a little bit more. [laughs]

Sounds like a plan!

All artworks courtesy of DJ LOSER.

Bloody Clip

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Bloody Clip
Words · Andrea Bratta

Through Clip’s looking glass

She loves music and making friends. Clip’s IG bio could very well encapsulate her attitude. But that would mean remaining on the surface level of what the NYC rapper and artist is all about. NR interviewed her back in (month) to learn more about her world. into her world —after all, what better guide could we ask for, if not herself?

I’ve seen a lot of media coverage, web exposure, and you just teased lots of big and very interesting collaborations. You came firing straight out the gate.

Oh, honestly, I’m really thankful for how fast things are evolving and how packed my year has been so far, but it’s kind of been weird to adjust because there’s been so many life changes. We kind of had to find the best way to navigate through all the madness. Luckily I have my team, and the people who are close to me –they really make it easier. But I still sometimes don’t really know how to navigate everything..I just try to make it work!

How’s all of this, a new team, more exposure, a bigger community, impacting you?

I still try to just do my thing, but at the same time I’m obviously trying to be more of an artist, really honing in on my craft without changing too much of myself. It’s the same energy I’m putting in, I guess only in a more professional way –less like a girl with just her phone doing whatever, and more structured.

Less DIY?

That’s the perfect word for it. I was so DIY for so long, and I still kind of am. Only now, I have amazing help around me!

It feels like your relationship with your fans and the people that your music speaks to is very important in what you do.

It’s everything.

Even the way that you interact with them, It makes you think that it somehow translates in your process. What sparks you?

Tying back to you mentioning communities, I always was longing to be a part of something growing up, and I found that through music. It makes me feel so privileged. I really just want to own that and make sure everyone that supports me feels as seen as I do right now. It’s something I hold close and try to remember everyday: making everyone feel like they’re accepted, because life is just crazy and we should try to make things better for everyone, in our small ways –But I’m getting a bit sidetracked. Back to my process; I like to say that I don’t really have one –It’s like the beauty behind the madness: Whatever comes to me, comes to me in the moment. I try not to overthink things, because overthinking is my biggest enemy, something I’ve always struggled with. Sometimes my friends will say that when I create, it’s like I’ve been possessed by a music entity or whatever. My old music really used to reflect a lot of emotions and situations that I was experiencing at the time because my life was just so crazy, changing so fast –I just used my music as a way of coping. Nowadays I’m trying to have more fun with everything. As I started going out more to parties I was like “okay, I would love to turn up to my shit in a club.” But I couldn’t! I only had sad songs out! [laughs] So lately, I have been trying to make more, let’s say, happier club bangers.

Things around you and what your experience is changing. The recipe might be seemingly changing, but it really isn’t, right?

Exactly! This is myself, and my music reflects that just, naturally, you know?

I read about how it’s very important for you to be a mirror for other people to see themselves in. However, your music is very personal and intimate. There’s this sort of contradiction, but you still manage to create something that feels open to the listener. They can project their own meanings onto it while still enjoying it. I wanted to ask you about this, but I think you’ve already answered it in a way.

It’s literally just like that. So yeah, that’s a cool and beautiful way of putting it!

You know, I was trying to find ways to pinpoint and define your sound, but somehow it eludes me. One word I would use to describe it is ‘cool.’ But ‘cool’ is a very elusive term. You’ve been associated with the fashion world, magazines, runways —all things that exude cool. So now, I wanted to ask you, since you describe things very personally, what would be your definition of what coolness is today?

That’s a good question. I think coolness is…owning it, your raw inner self. I like people that are vulnerable and are afraid to show the world who they are, but they still risk it and express themselves. The coolest people that I know are so real to the point where it might even be detrimental for them. But that’s what makes it cool, you can’t really replicate those things. And maybe that’s kind of a cliche, but I think not being an asshole is also very cool.

Do you have plans moving forward to further build on your personal brand of coolness, maybe reinforce your presence in different mediums other than music?

[Laughs] Anytime I used to get asked this, I would be like “Oh, you know, I’m just floating, I don’t know my plans.” But now I finally have a very precise idea about it! I want to be the face for people like me, that’s the masterplan. And, obviously, music is my priority. I love music, that’s my everything. I have this quote I always use “Music is why hearts have beats.” Music really is my life, and I never want to lose sight of that, but also I don’t want to box myself in it. I want to keep experimenting with different mediums, especially visual, and continue to show people like me that If I can do it, then you can too, because I’m literally the most normal person ever.

And what are some hidden references or elements that might have influenced your music, your overall artistic expression –something that we couldn’t pinpoint just by listening to your music, but that is there and embedded in what you do?

There’s a whole grunge era of me growing up in middle and high school that played a big part in shaping who I am. Everyone was kind of emo, but I really identify as a grunge girl. I am maybe still living in that era, you can feel it in my music. I loved alternative, experimental, sad boy music –Yung Lean, Lil Peep, Drain Gang. I was a little weirdo in class, listening to bands like The Neighborhood, Title Fight. Emotion is a big factor in everything I do. I think it’s cool to feel so intensely because a lot of people seem like walking zombies with no emotions, just going through the motions of life –I call them NPCs. I feel bad for those people who aren’t living life the way they want to. But getting back on track, the grunge era, rock, emo, and fashion all influence me. Growing up, my parents never really got me clothes because they believed school wasn’t a fashion show, going all the time like “all you need is like the essentials.” They were also conservative Jamaicans, so I wasn’t allowed to express myself the way I wanted. Once I was free from those restraints, it felt really good to be myself, and clothes played a big part in that. The whole fashion world is a big inspiration for me, and while it might not be directly felt in my music, it works hand in hand with it. And then again, now I’m walking runways and shit all over the world, you know?

How does that feel?

Pretty fucking cool! [laughs]

Being able to not only express yourself through clothes and music but also fully embrace your personality while being a professional adds a different dimension. The references you mentioned, such as Yung Lean or Drain Gang, are all artists who took subcultural and aesthetic elements and made them their own. They repurposed these elements, which is something you do as well; You are part of a new generation of artists that are both subcultural and have some mainstream elements in how they present themselves on the web. You have your own niche and audience, while rapidly moving up. This is something I think a lot about, and you are living it in a way —So, I wanted to ask you: Do you think that the way underground and mainstream used to be very separate entities is now changing? Are they colliding, or do you still think there’s a distinction between them?

People have their various opinions on this topic, mine is that the meaning of the term “underground” definitely has changed as a whole, especially after COVID, a period where a lot more people just started trying to make music, alone in their homes with nothing to do, just creating. I feel like that whole moment really shifted the underground as a whole and now it’s more saturated, but not necessarily in a bad way. On the internet, the underground is becoming the modern day mainstream, which is really cool. Maybe I’m biased because I’m so in the scene, but most of the people I know are not listening to the radio, they’re going on SoundCloud. They listen to their friends, they discover their favorite artists on Instagram, or Reddit. There’s a lot of artists that are maybe not having real commercial success, yet, but they’re getting a lot of streams, and they’re doing well, they have a proper fan base! Also, there used to be a lot of negativity in the underground, but everything now is just so broad, and so many people are just having fun with it. I’m meeting new friends because we’re doing shows together, going to parties together. Everything became really wholesome. We can breathe, relax.

Since there are now more platforms and more space for everyone, as you said, people are starting to let go of, perhaps, jealousy over a space they feel the need to protect.

Exactly. And it made everything less toxic because of that.

And how do you feel about collaboration? It seems like you are open to it, but also very selective. That’s what I’m getting from how you’re talking. Your music is very personal, and your relationship with your fans is personal too.

I think that my opinion is never gonna change on this, ever. And I’m satisfied with that. But, like you said, everything I do is extremely personal to me. So, it’s like, you can’t just give your baby to a random babysitter; you have to get to know them and find the right fit and vibe. That’s how I see it. If I do a collab, it’s because it was genuine. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t for money. Even if I was down to my last cent, I would never sell a feature like that. I feel like I’m selling myself short, giving away a part of me, selling out. Everything I do has to have meaning; it has to be personal and authentic. I tie that in with collaborations. I’m not opposed to them, obviously—I have some out, and some more on the way. It just has to make sense and be with the right people. Not that anyone is the wrong person or doesn’t make sense, but something has to really click.

Have you got a record coming out later this year? Give us some spoilers!

Definitely! I’m gonna drop a really good album. I can’t wait for that, I’m really happy with it because, honestly, all my sad stuff is cute, but I’m over it. I don’t really want to dwell on it. I’m really excited for my new stuff and looking forward to sharing it because it feels like a whole new phase for my sound. More mature. As I said earlier, I’ll never lose sight of who I am and what I represent, and everything I’ve built to get here. But I’m definitely treating this more as a job rather than just a fun hobby that’s getting me attention. I really want to keep pushing out things for people and keep creating, involving everyone in what it means to be in CLIP’s world.

Backing up a bit on the coolness stuff, I’ve read that you’ve been associated with the status of a new “it girl.” Sometimes defining someone, even with something very positive and cool, like ‘it girl,’ can feel cagey.

I don’t know. I love the term and everything about it. Growing up, I was so obsessed with what it meant to be an ‘it girl.’ But I realized that anyone can be that, It’s something you embody; it’s how you carry yourself as a person. I value my authenticity more than being boxed in as an ‘it girl’ because that label comes with so much behind it. It reminds me of people in school who tried to chase that status and play into someone they’re not. You know an ‘it girl’ when you see one, and that’s not something you should be labeled as. It’s about what you’re doing for the community, how your art is helping people. I think that’s what really matters: being a figure and a voice, using your platform to help people feel heard and feel good.

This really feels like a CLIP manifesto.

I’m so anti-labels.

Even regarding music genres?

Yeah, exactly. That’s why I don’t want to choose a genre for what I do. I hate being boxed in, it suffocates me. Like when I was living in Texas, I was suffocating. I hate that feeling, anything that makes me feel like that, I just tend to stay away from.

You lived in Texas, LA, and now New York, right?

Yeah.

How has each city influenced your experience? Is this journey and evolution through the places you’ve lived reflected in your sound? I feel like there’s maybe a New York phase in your music and another that feels more like Texas. Or maybe I’m just overcomplicating things and projecting.

No, honestly, that’s very real, even if perhaps it’s something that unintentionally reflects in my music and sound. You’re not the first person to tell me that. I’ve had personal friends say things like, ‘Oh, this vibe is really Texas,’ or ‘This reminds us of Texas underground music.’ I don’t do it intentionally. Despite how I feel about certain places or experiences, they define me, and my music is me. It just naturally reflects without me even thinking about it.

Team

Photography · Lea Winkler
Styling · Zoey Radford Scott
Hair and Makeup · Jeanette Williams

Chanel Beads

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Chanel Beads
Words · Andrea Bratta

The Feeling Remains

What is a feeling? neither us nor Shane Lavers from Chanel Beads might have a correct answer for it. That being said, NR spoke with him about navigating fleeting emotions through music, internal contradictions, and what drove —and bothered— him one week prior the NYC band’s debut album Your Day Will Come would see the light.

Hi Shane, how’s it going?

I just woke up, I’m in the middle of moving, so it’s been.. chaotic, but I am good!

And, most importantly, your first LP is on the way! How do you feel? How have the last weeks leading up to it been?

Yeah, it definitely feels like something new, but I try not to have any expectations, really. And then everything’s a happy surprise.

I’ve known about your work since fairly recently, actually. I’ve gotta come clean. I listened to your music for the first time in Paris, around November.

You were at the Bagnolet show, right?

Attending that show was a great moment for me, as it had been more than a couple of months since seeing someone play live –I came there being so curious about the whole thing..Your setup, and the way you guys performed felt refreshingly different. One thing I am wondering ,now that things are maybe starting to change, is about the shift from smaller, intimate venues to larger ones, like the recent gig you did at SXSW. What I loved about your show was its intimacy, and maybe some of it might be lost in bigger settings. How do you feel about this potential change in how your music is experienced? Are you adapting to it?

Settings like SXSW are complicated –We played a couple of outdoor daytime shows, and that’s just not a great fit, at least for what I’m trying to do. That show you just mentioned, if i’m not mistaken, the place was almost a gallery or a studio, it didn’t have a stage, but was still loud enough: That felt like an ideal place to perform. I’m uncertain about adjusting to formats where there’s a significant distance between me and the audience. Most of the live performances I’ve done are just kind of this weird act. It’s not acting per se, but it’s a really naked moment –Me trying to embody my music really plainly, really close to people. So yeah, I’m kind of nervous, and I don’t really know what to do if there’s like a gate and, you know, 20 feet between me and people. But I guess we’ll cross that bridge.

You maybe lose that conversational element that your music possesses.The Bagnolet show was the first time ever I listened to your music –I didn’t know anything about your work prior to that. A friend invited me to the show telling me it would be a good one so I decided to go in blindly, without listening to anything beforehand. I just wanted to be surprised by something new. Maybe that’s why I perceive this presence of a conversation between you and your listener, and that is something that an intimate live experience embodies better. Do you consider the relationship between your music and its audience, allowing space for their interpretation alongside your own narrative? Or do you primarily focus on expressing your own story, regardless of the presence of a stage or audience?

It’s kind of complicated. I mean, it’s definitely closer to the latter. It is always a bad idea to try to imagine what other people are thinking, and that is sometimes because you can never really picture a stranger’s mind. I don’t purposefully try to not-think of what other people will think, and I feel very lucky at the moment because that kind of distinction doesn’t even cross my mind because I am too focused on myself as the listener, or trying to have a conversation with myself.

It feels very insular, though, and sometimes after a songs’ made, I’ll kind of notice that I think that I’ve written something very specific and detailed, but then I am like “wait, there’s only like four or five lines in this song and not that much of a context for them.” Even I may not fully know what the song is about as it shifts as you write it. However, as long as it means something to me, I’m happy, I am excited. 

Your songs often present two distinct voices or perspectives, a sense of internal conflict or contradiction. This duality seems particularly pronounced in some of the songs from your upcoming record, especially now that yours and Colleen’s singing alternate and layer more substantially, perhaps reflecting this conversation or dialogue within yourself you just mentioned. I had a question in that sense, but I guess you’ve already touched on this aspect, acknowledging the presence of two voices conversing or two parts of yourself engaged in dialogue –An interplay between different perspectives allowing abstract feelings to resurface and attempting to give them tangible expression.

Yeah. Context always changes in what I write, but it’s almost like..the feeling remains the same, there’s a consistency of an emotion lingering through and through. It’s akin to moving from one scene to another, seemingly unrelated, yet still connected by a common thread despite the shifting of time and space.

Without the need of a specificity.

Yeah. [pauses] The feeling remains.

It’s intriguing how your composition process seems to mirror this idea. I’ve noticed a very distinct style, and sound, in your music, even from the first time I encountered it. Despite this being your debut LP, your consistent approach to composing and shaping sonic palettes over the years has been evident. Was this new record an opportunity to crystallise and refine that style further, or was you just going for an experimental take on longer narrative possibilities or a more cohesive output of material?

It’s both of those things really, it kinda just felt like, “Okay, now I’ve got an album.” But I definitely was trying to match an emotional and lyrical sentiment with the sonics. I always felt kind of frustrated with the way I composed in the past and I know that a lot of musicians or artists might feel like they’re aspiring to something, but they’re kind of stuck making something else. It’s kind of a cliche, so I try not to think about it too much, like the one of sitting down with the guitar and then getting really into it, making beats or something like that. I think such things are kind of boring, and self mythologizing in a weird way.

Industry tricks 101: The creative journey’s sentimentalisation..

I’ve been talking about this with friends a lot. I felt really free with this project, I finally was able to let the floodgates open and release stuff because I felt in a position where I’m not interested in distinctions anymore, and whatever i do is just gonna exist as it is and I’m not gonna give a shit If people think it’s rock music, electronic music, or whatever. I’ve been having interviews where people keep asking me about Coffee Culture, because it’s kind of the record’s outliner, but I actually feel like I make more music similar to it than, let’s say, Police Scanner. And I guess this kind of feels like a cliche too –To be like “Fuck the listener, I don’t even care about the listener.” But yeah, I didn’t really like thinking about distinctions like “who’s listening to it? Am I listening to it or is someone else listening to it,” I am kind of practicing ignorance almost as a virtue, lately, in that regard. [laughs] 

Have you been putting things out because you just finally felt really like it?

Yeah. And I try to stay away from distinctions and intellectualising stuff. It’s way more interesting to go back before those lines were drawn.

I get it! Sometimes, as I interview people, it’s almost weird because when I come there, I have all my stuff prepared, questions, notes. I’ve been reading, listening, informing myself on the artists’ work, weaving narratives around and intellectualising it. It all feels a tad funny sometimes, because I think of myself first and foremost as a listener and sometimes I think that maybe I should just focus on enjoying the music and, as you said, it is simpler, and maybe more interesting. How do you feel then when talking about music, your music specifically? 

Well, I think it’s fun to over intellectualise things, I just don’t want to do it to myself. [laughs] It’s flattering to talk about your music with people, but it also feels weird sometimes –And don’t get me wrong, I’m getting good at PR training. If someone asks me a question, I’ll just be like “next question,” if I don’t want to say anything about it– The strange thing with talking about my own music is that, often, the whole point of it is that I’m not able to just talk about the things i want to communicate with it. If I could, just talking about them would have been fine, but because I don’t feel like I can do that via simple words, I resort to music. Whatever you’re trying to express, I feel it has to come out via the best channel you can express it through, so a complicated feeling or a complicated thought can come out with all the nuances it deserves. What I like about the way I’m approaching music is that it allows me to work with stuff that I’m still parsing through –It’s me trying to figure out how I’m feeling, and what I’m thinking or what the world is, in an external and internal way at the same time. 

How long do you feel this record has been growing within you? A part of you may still be processing the themes woven into this record, and while you may have physically composed the record recently, it feels listening to you like its inception and development may have been with you for much longer. 

A lot of what I do, not only with music but with visuals too, I approach it with a “waiting to strike” attitude, kinda like getting really prepared for something that is going to happen so that you can move quickly about it. It’s not improvising. It’s more like operating in real time, that’s why maybe I am so fond of playing live shows. Things always happen quickly and impulsively, but at the same time thought out and prepared. I’m not really interested in super constructed music, but rather in quick bursts that then are shaped from there. I have this kind of motto, “Never let them see you sweat,” which is like..You can think about stuff and prepare it, but ideally you shouldn’t be in control of all the variables, so then you can kind of discover new stuff in that moment. I don’t know if that answers your question, but that’s a complicated answer to give you, because I wrote the album pretty quickly, but there’s one song on it called Urn that I wrote, like in 2018, and it kind of came out way different when I finally recorded it again, so timelines are, let’s say, variable.

Like with Idea June, you released two different versions, very similar in their underlining, both songs’ sentiment feels the same, but they still are very different, maybe two sides of the same narration? It’s interesting that you decided to release both. The bit about not wanting the artifice behind things to be seen really resonated with me. When I saw you live, it felt..digital, electronic maybe, in a way. Your setup was hybrid, a computer playing the record and you playing over it, singing over it and adding vocal and sonic layers to it..but it felt very different from listening to the record versions of your tracks, because you don’t just execute the song, i feel it varies from set to set and is closer to what you said about doing the prep in order to be ready to change things on the fly.

Zach and Maya make their own guitar parts, and we just play the whole song front to back, they improvise a little but usually just once, and we get stuff like 90% locked in. As we refine it, especially during tour runs, it becomes less about improvisation and more about solidifying the structure. Still, there’s always this sense of recreating the song each time we perform it, even though the tracks remain consistent. It’s like discovering how the song should function anew with each rendition. Also, we’re not the type of band that heavily engages with the audience too much, like I’m not trying to crack jokes too much, which is what I do when I get nervous. I tend to funnel any nervous energy into the performance itself, though it’s more of an internal dynamic rather than trying to rile up the crowd. The live show is crucial because it feels like an ongoing dialogue with the audience about the sound and atmosphere of the music. We’ve encountered various venues with unique setups, like a show in Seattle held in an old drugstore, where our sound ended up heavily distorted due to the setup. It was mostly just kind of like shoegaze and punk bands playing, technically, like a festival –You just weren’t supposed to hear the vocals anyway, so they had a setup that was really not ideal for what we usually do. Rather than fighting against it, we embraced the challenge and improvised, adapting to the space on the spot. There was no respect or adherence to how the songs sounded initially, we just blasted the sound, fully screamed our lungs out and got over it, using it to our advantage. It’d be such a nightmare to just try to be like “Oh, this is not supposed to sound like this,” and fight with that. It’s way more interesting and compelling to just try to adapt to the room on the spot.

Are you aiming to maintain the same approach when performing in more standardised venues or supporting bands like Mount Kimbie? It’s a different dynamic, with different expectations and preparations for the show. How do you plan to stay true to your style and maintain some level of absence-of-control in these more controlled environments? It’s an essential aspect of what you do. Initially, when I saw you play, I found myself wishing for a full band and a more elaborate, proper, setup. But as I became more familiar with your work, I began to appreciate your approach to live music more and more. It really started to make sense and felt refreshing, new. How do you plan to maintain this chaos-theory approach to live music as your career progresses?

Our current approach is highly adaptable and, despite occasional suggestions to add a drummer –mostly from drummers themselves –I’m intrigued by its current possibilities. I’m not focused on delivering what people expect, so I’m not inclined to follow traditional paths. Mount Kimbie are an amazing band, they’re fantastic musicians, but as for myself, I’m currently not interested in playing an instrument onstage. Singing without any other responsibilities allows me to fully immerse myself in the moment, embracing any awkwardness that may arise. I’m just going to go with it and enjoy the experience.

Fuck it we ball.

It’s nice talking about the live shows and setup so much in this interview because it really provides a lot of the backstory behind our process. Most of the songs were written specifically for the way we play live right now –So many of the songs have multiple layers of singing in them because I got really into melodics and rhythmics that are fun to reproduce and alter during a live show. It’s compelling when we’re like in SXSW, a real, proper capital-R Rock festival..we’re in the belly of the beast, the beast being people telling us we need a drummer and stuff like that, but we still come out and do the show regardless and win people over.

It can be a great selling point, you have your way of doing things, that’s what won me over anyways. If you get, you get. If you don’t, you don’t. I think you don’t need a drummer, personally..for all that matters. [Laughs] A slight detour towards intellectualization: What served as the primary inspiration or driving force behind this record? Was it a specific narrative or theme you wanted to explore through your writing, or were you more focused on crafting a particular sonic palette and incorporating specific musical elements? 

It’s definitely about the sound. While I was writing the lyrics, I did worry that I might end up with similar songs. Ideally, they all serve as cohesive glue, but I understand if someone were to criticize that aspect. When I begin a song, it’s usually because I have a particular sound or energy in mind. Then, I sit down and think about what’s been bothering me.

What has been bothering you?

I often think of the inability of things, or maybe myself, to change. I’m kind of in a pessimistic era these days. I mean everybody is, so..

It’s not like the world is in a great state, pessimism makes perfect sense. But your record still feels full of hope, in a way. It has mixed feelings and even tender undertones at its core –Like being very pessimistic about certain things, but still hoping to be wrong about it.

Well, I think there’s freedom in acknowledging how fucked things are, because then you are not deluded, but then you don’t wanna delude yourself about thinking that you are more fucked than you actually are. That’s maybe the real frustration for me..trying to find a point that feels good enough between these two extremes. 

Maybe, life is just a pendulum swinging between deluding yourself and bringing yourself back towards a sense of reality. Chanel Beads’ take on Schopenhauer’s pendulum.

I guess we’ll find out.

Credits

Photography, Art Direction and Styling · Jack Pekarsky
Featured Artworks · Michal Alpern
Special thanks to Matthew Fogg and Olivia Larson.

Snow Strippers

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Snow Strippers
Words · Andrea Bratta

Like for Andy on The Merv Griffin Show in 1965, silence is sexy for Snow Strippers. NR explores the US band’s universe, one made of sound, images, and few words.

You just got back from your very first European tour, and have ahead of you the NA one.. Are you currently recharging the batteries or went straight back into work mode?

We’re always working cause we love what we do.

During the last couple of months you had an incredibly upward trajectory: Media coverage, web exposure, some pretty big collaborations, and the tours and dates are bringing your music to a wider-than-usual audience. How are you handling it?

Doesn’t feel that much different honestly we are grateful though.

You always describe your ethos as free styling. Now you are quickly moving away from the underbrushes and more towards the spotlight: are you planning on keeping things “DIY” or are you thinking of scaling? I’ve read that you were thinking of releasing clothes, which you started doing by now, curating other artists’ images and artistic direction, and dropping films via your Label, Nice Bass Bro.

Everything we do will always be our own vision and yes we said we were going to and we did.

You seem to have a very dedicated fanbase! I did a reddit check: it was impressive, and very informative –Loads of very interesting threads deep-diving on the Snow Stripper lore. It is almost as if your fanbase aliments your myth, how’s your relationship with them? Do you think of it in terms of image-construction?

We love talking to our listeners cause we like our music too and they changed our life and we are forever grateful.

Speaking of reddit: I quote “It’s just banger after banger after banger… never knew anything like it ..Is it just me that feels that this band has more hits than any other artist ?” Which is very true, your sound is very consistent and your production very cohesive, even though you’ve been around from relatively little..You drop a lot of music, but it always stays fresh and coherent. What are your plans moving forward? Keeping the recipe as it is or thinking of experimenting in new sonic territories?

I think we’ll always experiment or try fresh shit that just kinda comes naturally why wouldn’t we wanna try and make some new shit.

Since we mentioned hits: what defines a hit, today, for you, in the midst of infinitely available content?
A song a lotta people can fuck with or even a few people fuck with it a lot idk.

I am curious to hear your take on sped up Tik Tok songs, remixes and mash-ups. There’s a parallel between the controlled-chaotic nature of your sound and how the platform allows users to sample and repack aesthetics and sounds. It is by now, becoming almost industry-defining, with some mainstream powerhouses adapting to it. Thoughts?
I love the sped up and slowed down tik tok songs

You have experimented with different stylistic coordinates and made them yours, to the point where one cannot subtract your aesthetic stances from your sound..what comes first? Music or Visuals?
We like both !


Fave style icons?
Tati

Credits

Photography · Marc Souvenir
Creative Direction · Aina Marcó, Marc Souvenir
Art Direction · Marc Souvenir, Rita de Rivera
Hair and Makeup · Venus Hermitant
Special thanks to Good Machine PR

Phase Fatale

Posted on by nr

NR Sound Premiere #10 · Introjection
Release Date · 19.04.24

Artist · Phase Fatale
Album · Love Is Destructive

Introjection

NR presents Track Etymology, the textual corollary to nr.world’s exploration of contemporary soundscapes: A series of short interviews delving in the processes and backstories behind the releases premiered on nr.world’s dedicated platform.

Hello Hayden! It’s a pleasure being in conversation with you. How are you feeling about the release? 

With this record, I pushed forward my techno side reflecting the direction I’ve been heading towards the past few years, where I want to take myself and the label. I explored new production methods like broken beats and using more digital instruments to create a future leaning dance floor sound. 

It seems that lately you have been dedicating yourself a lot to the production-side of your practice. Last year, it had been 5 years since your last solo EP, and now we’re already getting Love is Destructive. What changed? did you feel the need to build more upon your personal take on music and get in a more narrative mood? 

I never really stopped producing. I also released my last album in 2022 and the one previous on Ostgut Ton in 2020, combined with many collabs, VAs, and remixes. So while there was a gap in EPs, there was never a gap in the music. However, I definitely enjoy working on a more dance floor 12” again as it’s more concise and to the point, serving the purpose to work in the club. I feel like I needed to create my take on current techno elements used and push it forward with this EP which makes more sense in this format. 

‘Ambivalence’, ‘Love is destructive’, ‘Introjection’ – Titles of your new production seem to be quite closely thematically linked. How do these titles reflect the conceptual landscape of the album, and what narrative or emotional journey do you aim to guide listeners through with each? 

These titles link to a journey of love lost and love found. I believe uploading the music with meaningful titles combined with the artwork provides a more cohesive package for the record itself. But it’s open to the listener’s interpretation at their will. 

What were the influences and core elements that have shaped your project, and how do they intersect with your journey as a DJ and producer? 

The main influence is the cross-pollination of producers such as Regis, Silent Servant and Function and my roots in guitar music like My Bloody Valentine, Godflesh and The Cure. What I like in these bands is the combination of harsh noise with a musical structure palatable to a larger audience. This balance I also try to achieve in my own music.

“In techno in general, I look for this balance of sonic experimentation and boundary pushing which is all locked in by repetitious and danceable rhythms. The heaviness is subliminally inserted into the music itself.”

The relationship between sound and embodiment has been a recurring theme in your work, with references to the corporeal experience of rhythm and resonance. How do you explore the tactile dimensions of sound in your compositions –What is your relationship with audience perception, and how does your knowledge of audience response to tracks inform your compositional process? 

When producing club music, I always imagine how it works on a dance floor I’m familiar with such as Berghain, and it’s usually inspired by moments performing or dancing there. I look to accentuating different frequencies as means of controlling the body while also keeping the spectrum well-balanced. There is only a finite amount to store within the music, and it’s also important not to overdo it. In terms of composition, I arrange with the notion that the tracks are used within a DJ set. So they are composed in such a way that the changes hit at the right time creating more drama in the mix. 

As an artist deeply embedded in the underground electronic music scene, you occupy a unique position at the intersection of countercultural resistance and mainstream appropriation. How do you navigate the tension between subcultural authenticity and commercial viability, and what strategies do you employ to maintain artistic autonomy while engaging with broader audiences? 

I grew up playing in post-punk and synthwave bands so that’s my background. I always look for new sounds in those worlds and combine them together in my techno sets as well as carry that influence into my production. I think it’s important to still acknowledge how these sometimes seemingly disparate genres are actually very connected since their beginnings and subconsciously weave that notion together in sets. I listen to myself in how I want to approach my music and only work with likeminded labels and artists who I connect with in their approach rather than being influenced by temporary trends that urge others to change their sound at a whim. 

This record is dedicated to Silent Servant, your mentor. Grief finds expression in various artistic forms, including music. In techno, a genre often associated with its pulsating rhythms and immersive sonic landscapes, the exploration of emotions like grief may seem unconventional. However, some artists have managed to infuse their music with a sense of melancholy, loss, and introspection. How do you perceive the role of grief in techno music, and how do you approach incorporating or evoking such emotions in your own compositions? 

Juan made the artwork for this record, and I think it’s probably one of the last ones he made. We never had a chance to talk about the new technique he used for it even. It makes the whole record combined with the titles and images of roses and cold machinery quite mournful. So many steps and movements of my production, DJing and music in general are somehow connected to Juan so it was very heavy to go through with this release to say the least. Even in techno, it’s possible to make room for grief because the genre lends itself to create other worlds and paint a picture of an alternate reality with the use of certain atmospheres and melancholic melodies taking the listener to another dimension to reconcile with it. 

In the era of algorithmic curation and streaming platforms, the role of the DJ as a curator and tastemaker is evolving. How do you perceive the evolving nature of DJ culture, and what strategies do you employ to maintain a distinct artistic voice and ensure your creative output remains innovative and boundary-pushing? 

It’s true that more than ever people look to who the DJ is and what defines them beyond just their music. Which on one hand I understand, as someone more into bands, usually the image (or lack thereof) played a role into how we perceive their music whether that was through artwork, photos, music videos or performances on stage. So I think the same can be applied to techno as it evolves. On the other hand, what should still remain most important is the DJ’s selection and their ability to technically mix them together while reading the vibe of the space they’re in. I’m a musician because it is the creative way to express myself so it inherently stays true to me, while I constantly search for new or old sounds to inspire me and broaden my sonic palette. 

The notion of “genre” in electronic music is both a unifying force and a constraining factor, often shaping audience expectations and critical reception. How do you negotiate the boundaries of genre in your own work, and to what extent do you see yourself as a boundary-crossing artist pushing the limits of categorization? 

Unfortunately, some people like to cast artists into one genre and leave them there, thinking categorically, no matter if they evolve, instead of just listening and updating their preconceptions. I’ve always defined my project as techno but perhaps with different influences, while others try to pigeonhole my sound based on my background or what other artists around me think to play. I think the best way to redefine and push the limits is just to constantly showcase your sound with releases and sets, hence why I’ve been saying ‘techno’ all the time like a broken record. 

Your label BITE has been instrumental in showcasing emerging talent and pushing the boundaries of experimental techno. How do you envision the role of independent labels in shaping the future landscape of electronic music, and what criteria do you use to identify artists who embody the ethos of innovation and experimentation? 

Labels play an important role in defining their own aesthetic in music through the sound as well as its visual concept and the way they present their art to listeners. I want to show my connection to dance music and what I find cool and interesting while hopefully building up new artists in who I believe. When releasing someone, I usually listen if their music is also influenced by genres outside of techno itself and somehow combines it all together into a sound that is definitively them, so that one could tell it’s them in a blind listen. 

I wanted to close on a lighter note..I want to peep a bit behind the curtain: How do you approach the creative process when producing new tracks? Do you have any specific rituals or routines? 

I usually get an idea while DJing or just listening to music for a song I want to make, whether it’s a sequence, rhythm, melody or just a general mood or style. Then I translate that idea in my head to reality with either hardware or software which usually somehow changes or evolves in that process. Because I’m on the road so much now, I’m learning new ways to work on the computer but still retain the spontaneity and rawness of the hardware I’m used to working with all these years. But this learning process is cool because it lends itself to new sounds and methods. The most difficult part is understanding when the track is finally finished, to stop playing around with it, and let it go. That all comes from just doing it over and over again. 

Team

Interview · Andrea Bratta
Artwork · Silent Editions
Photography · Shuto
Pre-order the digital album here
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Tadleeh

Posted on by nr

NR Sound Premiere #9 · Seekers
Release Date · 03.04.24

Artist · Tadleeh
Album · LONE

Seekers

NR presents Track Etymology, the textual corollary to nr.world’s exploration of contemporary soundscapes: A series of short interviews delving in the processes and backstories behind the releases premiered on nr.world’s dedicated platform.

Hi Hazina! Should we back up a little bit? When did you first get in touch with music?

I started with music when I was young. In my house, we always had music playing. I really liked how music could affect people. I started learning guitar when I was seven. Playing an instrument let me express myself in new ways. I loved practicing, trying new music styles, and making my own songs.

Now I’m into electronic music. I really like old hip hop, liquid, and drum n’ bass. I got my first vinyl, a Liquid mixtape, from a market in Camden Town.

I read about your background in Cinema Studies, and of your fascination with the evolution of both diegetic and non- diegetic sound in film. How does this translate in your writing process?

When I write, I listen for sounds in my scenes just like I do for the visuals. I think about the noises in a quiet forest or a busy city to make my stories feel real. I want to make readers feel like they are really in the world of my stories. I am excited to keep using these ideas in my work and to find new ways to connect with readers both in their minds and hearts. The movie style is in ‘Lone’ and will be in my next work too. It’s my way of making things. The cinematic field is present in ‘Lone’ and it will be present in my next work as well. It’s an automatic composing style from my side. 

What was the overarching narrative behind your new record, ‘LONE’?

‘LONE’ is a musical journey that delves into the depths of introspection, exploring the intricacies of solitude and the profound moments of clarity that arise from it. Each track is a chapter in the story of a solitary individual navigating the complexities of their inner world, grappling with introspection, and ultimately finding solace in self-awareness.

I’ve started composing it during 2020, just one year after my debut release Ep as my new moniker Tadleeh. The album begins with a sense of isolation and uncertainty, reflecting the protagonist’s journey into the unknown. As the narrative unfolds, themes of resilience, growth, and empowerment emerge, driving the protagonist to confront their fears and embrace their true self. 

Speaking of diegetic and non-diegetic..It’s interesting how context determines the reception of music. A record like ‘LONE’ could work in several frameworks. During your career you held numerous residencies in radios, played in clubs.. In which settings do you mostly present your music? Does the context influence your presentation?

I’m used to play my EPs, former productions and album during my live performances. My presence in Radio is connected to dj sphere, that I also love a lot! During my entire career I did both, spacing between club events, festival, radio show or residency as well as galleries. I don’t think my personal works fit well in a proper club, where I actually prefer to dj. ‘LONE’ sounds better in an intimate place. 

Yours is an extremely varied and experimental career — different labels, different medius, different settings. How did you approach ‘LONE’, considering it is your first LP? Is it a crystallization of your journey up until this point as an artist?

I started making music when I was a teenager, and starting my very first project Petit Singe in 2013, releasing on Haunter Records (Milan). From that point on i’ve released many different  works in many different support (12’’ vinyl, 7’’, tape etc).

Approaching my first LP was a deeply introspective and transformative process. I saw it as an opportunity to distill the essence of my artistic evolution and present a cohesive narrative that reflects the multifaceted experiences and influences that have shaped my musical identity. I’m already processing some new work for a new album. 

As per Sarah Thornton, club culture presents “Three principal, overarching distinctions which can be briefly designated as: the authentic versus the phony, the ‘hip’ versus the ‘mainstream’, and the ‘underground’ versus ‘the media.” This was in her seminal book “Club Cultures”. The year was 1995. I often ask producers and DJs their perspective on the contemporary clubbing landscape. You were the creative mind behind the now retired, forward-thinking events series Sine Confine in Milan, so I assume you had a first-hand experience of how these categories interacted in a unique setting such as the one you were curating. Do you feel those distinctions are a bit outdated or do they stand the test of time?

I believe that the experiences of club culture cited by Sarah Thornton can be all present, only in part, or even all absent even if we are talking about the same event or context. As a DJ and as a curator of musical events – therefore as a “victim” and “perpetrator” -, I can honestly say that the “underground” aspect is the most questionable and difficult to respect. The public doesn’t trust: they always need digital context to ensure the “who, how and why” of a specific event. Curators themselves don’t have many sponsorship choices these days, other than the obvious one on social media.

These mechanisms, in my opinion, arise from a public that is absolutely wary of what it doesn’t know, of being surrounded by “offline” people. Unfortunately I think that the artistic proposal is downgraded.

Neither on the part of the organisers nor on the part of the participants is there a desire to be false, not to be fashionable or not to be underground enough. But I think that this discussion can be broadened to an anthropological, rather than musical, in-depth analysis. They are status quos that human beings have, regardless of club culture. Sine Confine – which is not completely finished, I hope – had – and has – the same purpose as any other organisation: to enhance the work of artists who consider themselves in line with their own tastes.

The underground scene often has difficulty finding funding, and is forced to finance itself. Those who move in this field often know the risks, in terms of turnout and economics. And this is where social media comes in handy. So, who is right and who is wrong? The ordinary citizens who do not finance niche events, or the organisers themselves who, for fear of losing out financially, rely on mainstream social media? It is a war that is too deep-rooted and sees many active participants: the public, organisers, urban spaces, institutions, financiers…

As for my personal Sine Confine project, I hope that one day it can restart and become operational again, far from the consolidated sexist and chauvinist gazes in this country.

Sine Confine was an “art and music platform.” You also produce sound-based installations and commissions, most recently for Munich’s Haus der Kunst —there’s a clear trans-disciplinary component to your practice, could elaborate a bit on that?

Yes, I think that an artist can flush out art everywhere, in every discipline and places. 

I’m really happy of being part of Tune program – curated by Sarah Miles -. My music is absolutely open to any spaces and situations. Me personally, I love being involved in different artistic contest: curating (Sine Confine), listening, viewing… I love to merge multiple opportunities and people.  

Your music feels heartfelt but liminal..It has this intimate but detached feeling to it, almost like an invitation to enter a conversation but only to be left on its doorstep, stuck between its reflexive moments and sonic implosions. How is your relationship with the listener? Is it something you think of while composing?

I want to make songs that feel close and personal, using heart songs and thoughtful music to bring people into the feelings of the songs. The in-between feeling you talked about is what I aim for, making a place that is both close and wide, known but also mysterious. I do think about how people will feel and connect with the music when I write it. But, I focus on sharing my own feelings, experiences, and creative drive in an honest way. I think that if I stay true to my own vision and am open in my expression, I can make music that deeply connects with others. I hope to evoke emotions, provoke thought, and inspire introspection in those who choose to journey with me through my music.

There’s this quote I obsess over by James Joyce, it was part of an essay on Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, “This music smells like sex.” I think it sums up perfectly the drama’s themes and overall sensorial experience. We often tend to associate music to visual metaphors, but I think smell is an underrated sense —What would your music smell like?

Wow! I didn’t know about this particular Joyce’s quote, and I have to say that I definitely agree, even if I never thought about this interesting connection between them. I mean, smell is also proper of music. And come to think of it, I have a certain smell in my mind linked to the theatre halls. The seats, the main wood stage, the “waiting smell” for the show to start. 

That being said, since I’ve never deeply reflected about this, I’d rashly associate my music with the odor that’s in the air when something has been set on fire. 

Interview · Andrea Bratta
Artwork · Visio
Pre-order the digital album here
Tadleeh will be performing on April 5th at Rewire Festival. Find out more here.
Follow Tadleeh on Instagram and Soundcloud
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Evita Manji

Posted on by nr
Phoenix Central Park in Sydney, AU

NR Sound Premiere #5 · Spandrel? (Aurora Live Edition)
Release Date · 19.02.24

Artist · Evita Manji

Grief, the Human Condition and Live Performance

Greek musician and vocalist Evita Manji is part of a new wave of underground club music producers that began her career in Athens and since then has performed in multiple countries across Europe. Her music is a mixture of contemporary club music, baroque pop, and experimental sound design which she uses to explore themes of death, grief, climate change and the human condition. 

Manji launched her platform myxoxym in 2021 and has collaborated with multiple artists, across various medias. One of her most recent collaborations with the artist duo dmstfctn was at HQI in London at the Serpentine Gallery, where she performed a live soundtrack for a interactive audiovisual performance titled, Waluigi’s Purgatory which follows an AI sent to purgatory. NR joins Manji in conversation about her practice and recent performances. 

Phoenix Central Park in Sydney, AU

You mentioned that your process has involved you locking yourself in your apartment for long periods of time to work on your music. What does the day-to-day process of this look like?

It includes the necessary human functions, eating and such. Also a lot of silence and thinking. The thinking gets out of hand at some point and that’s when the music-making begins. Small breaks here and there for cuddles with Heidi (my cat), a cigarette and herbal tea refills until I get sleepy and crawl back to bed.

Phoenix Central Park in Sydney, AU

You stated that your experiences with loss and grief have influenced your creative process, is that still the case and do you draw on any other emotions and experiences to create your work?

It still is the case. However, if you imagine grief as a city, I was only hanging around the center when I was making Spandrel?. I’m more into exploring the suburbs and the countryside these days. Travelling to other cities too but always staying within the country of uncomfortable emotions.

You were part of a church choir for many years, has this had any influence on your music and if so how?

It has influenced the way I understand and create music a lot, especially when it comes to singing. But in the way I compose my melodies too, though the effect is more abstract in this case. It’s not always there but it’s like a solid part of my identity I can return to when I’m not sure which way to go.

Phoenix Central Park in Sydney, AU

Considering your father’s involvement in music production and songwriting, do you believe this has provided you with certain advantages or unique opportunities in pursuing your music career?

Being surrounded by music and encouraged to pursue it from a young age is definitely an advantage I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for my dad but if we’re talking about actual career opportunities then no, it hasn’t played a role.

Your live improv style debuted at the Aurora Live Ambient Show, in September 2023, in Berlin. How did you feel before the performance, and did the experience meet your expectations? Did the spontaneity of the improv provide a sense of freedom, and is it something you would like to explore further in your music career?

I was excited but very stressed and seriously lacking sleep. It was such a last-minute request, I sketched out the live set on the plane on my way to the show, I was still editing 10 minutes before performing. I did enjoy the performance very much though, it was very special, I felt fully immersed in the music and sort of lost touch with reality.

Aurora Live Edition in Berlin

You recently performed at London’s Cafe OTO with artist Sarahsson. What were your hopes and expectations for this performance, and do you think you achieved them in the show? 

I was initially planning to present an elaborate version of my Aurora set but my hopes and expectations changed pretty much 2 days before the show when I decided to create a whole new live set. I wanted to play something not entirely related to Spandrel? , so I put together a bunch of music I made in the last few months and a couple of new versions of songs from Spandrel?. I was just hoping I will have it ready on time and I did manage to.

What advice do you have for young creatives looking to work in the music industry?

“To walk backwards and enter the circle looking outwards.”

Interview · Nicola Barrett
Photography · Clément Beaugé and Ruby Boland
Follow Evita Manji on Instagram and Soundcloud
Follow AURORA on Instagram and Soundcloud
Follow PAN on Instagram
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Oldyungmayn

Posted on by nr

NR Sound Premiere #4 · Strike
Album · M.A036
Release Date · 01.02.24

Artists · Oldyungmayn & Estoc
Label · Magdalena’s Apathy

Strike

NR presents Track Etymology, the textual corollary to nr.world’s exploration of contemporary soundscapes: A series of short interviews delving in the processes and backstories behind the releases premiered on nr.world’s dedicated platform.

I did some digging on your previous releases while preparing for this interview. One aspect that I was immediately drawn to was connecting the threads between Strike and your earlier productions. Should we go over shared specifics and differences between this new EP and your previous works? I think it would make a great starting point for us to introduce and contextualize M.A036. 

I’ve been DJing for many more years than I’ve been producing, so my inclination  towards creating a track comes largely from the desire to play and mix it. Like many  DJs, I am always looking for new interesting sounds that I think will fit with my  ever-growing collection, and to discover tracks (and producers) that impress and inspire me. Learning to produce using software was equally an individual learning experience for me (initially instigated by the pandemic when I was still living in UAE), as it was an experience I shared with friends. Across the Middle East, there’s not as many people pursuing this sort of music production – for various reasons – and those that are, I probably know them. It’s a very small scene that extends across the whole region, and there’s a lot of collaboration by necessity as a result. My previous efforts, for example, with my close friend and producer Van Boom, channels much of our shared interests in experimental noise and power electronics, but shaved down into tracks we both enjoy playing during our DJ sets. My earlier solo productions are a good example of many hours of imposed isolation and experimentation – it takes time to learn how to produce a signature sound and really bring the final product to a point where you’re happy with it. In the most recent EP I’ve done with estoc, there’s a few factors at play and what made it what it is…firstly, she’s a friend, and we’ve spent many hours just chatting and getting to know about each other’s lives…this year has been very pivotal for both of us, and I think it has reaffirmed certain relationships with other artists. Like my previous collaborations, there was a lot of back and forth, but also a lot of trust and compromise.  B2B DJ sets are pretty common these days, but working on tracks together and  releasing them as well is much more challenging – it requires you to trust someone else  with your sound, it’s very intimate, but the results speak for themselves. I think this EP with estoc is different than my previous releases as we took our time and it was less impulsive. 

Since we are already speaking of connecting threads, your bio states that ‘your identity is layered through both productions and performances, navigating away from a Eurocentric focus, mixing a 90’s era rave musical lexicon and a wide spectrum of music from fellow Middle Eastern producers.’ How do you find balance in an approach that feels both respectful of its influences and liberating from those same traditions and sonic stereotypes?

I think that I play what I like listening to, and therefore my sets are genuine expressions of my tastes, first and foremost. I don’t play music that’s ‘trending’, and I certainly don’t do people favors either. Some DJs opt to play based on the (expected) tastes of audiences, which is fine, but for me that leaves little room for surprise. Not that my sets are totally unpredictable, but I like to throw in unfamiliar tracks, edits, unreleased stuff from people that otherwise would never be played in European clubs. 

“For me, getting away from the Eurocentric focus isn’t only about the sounds or tracks themselves, or where the producers are from, but actually avoiding the pressure to perform and operate as a DJ with these aforementioned ‘European’ standards.”

There’s quite a bit of pressure to conform and play what people might expect, and I don’t want to do this, because I am not European, I just live here. 

Is it a mindful process, a specific sound design choice, or more of something almost unconsciously ingrained in your process, a natural approach you have towards mixing sounds, pun intended, and expressing yourself through them? 

I think DJing, and really delivering a fun, energetic performance to your audience is experiences on and off the dancefloor. Some people have very acute skills, such as a very good ear for beatmatching and blends, where some people have simply spent so much time organizing events, listening to longer sets from start to finish, and dancing themselves that they just know what works for the crowd. It’s so important that people who are DJing can relate to the audience on a very intimate level, otherwise you’re left with this very obvious disconnect. I feel my audience is usually varied, and so are there tastes, as is mine. It’s really about making everything work together, and skillfully matching things up in unexpected ways. I’m mindful about it, but most of my decisions are made ‘in the moment’, so a lot of it stems from risk-taking and experimenting, largely tied to intuition, and that’s something which becomes sharper through your own.

The sense of self-exploration and experimentation behind your music reminded me of Underground Resistance and their ethos: relating early Detroit Techno aesthetics to the social, political, and economic circumstances they were facing. 

Music and its dissemination is situated. It resonates differently depending on who’s playing it, to whom and where, and when played in club settings, that extends to what it’s mixed with and why. Most people don’t pay attention to these questions when they are going out, and I don’t blame them…it’s not always a consideration that everyone has when they want to just go out and have a good time. Although, I think audiences these days are much more conscious and inquisitive, especially given the current climate…I think this sense of affiliation to common goals and social objectives is becoming more present, especially in regards to breaking down categories. 

Do you think that nowadays, as electronic music culture has become a global mass movement and club music has generally shifted from the underground’s hazy light into the media spotlight, such stances are still possible? Do you believe that creating sonic communities on the periphery of mainstream culture is still a viable form of sonic resistance? 

Is it really a movement? I’m not sure that’s the best word to use, as when I think of movements, I think of selflessness and fading individualism for the greater good…with club culture today, I still see a lot of self-centering, egoism, choices and strategies based around economic growth at all costs. As its popularity increases, so do its misinterpretations and its easy to lose sight of the bigger picture.

“Club culture, to a large degree, feels quite co-opted at the moment, so supporting smaller, independent spaces and promoters is more vital than ever.”

I touched on the concept of resistance because I feel that it is a central theme of our contemporary world, and I imagine it being especially, and painfully, close to you as a Palestinian. 

Many, if not all, Palestinian people both in Palestine and around the world would say that resistance is a tenet of our existence, if not a vital theme of how we get through each day.

“In the same way that all marginalized people suffer under oppression, Palestinians are resisting more than just occupation and violence – we are resisting our miscategorization, as individuals, as a population and as a culture, and of our being viewed as less-deserving of our humanity.”

Club music has always positioned itself on the thin line between pure hedonism and almost political defiance. How do you feel about this dichotomy during such complicated times? 

This is a very poignant question, and one which I’ve thought about a lot these days as someone living in Berlin. On one hand, this is both my passion and my preferred source of income – neither of which I want to give up, and this is requiring me to actively pursue and accept gigs. There’s been many occasions since relocating to Germany where I wanted to give up on DJing, simply because the hostile climate towards Palestinians (or Arabs, or POC, for that matter) was so present in the scene.

“It’s not like we are never booked, but it feels we are almost always optioned last, or doubted, or tokenized.”

With this in mind, my choice to continue playing and my presence is in itself political, even if it’s sometimes just a random booking. There are events which still cater to the hedonistic crowd (evidently in Berlin), but I wouldn’t say that it’s the only kind of events I like playing for. I’ve been lucky to play a handful of gigs in the last while which center around solidarity, community and togetherness – pretty much the opposite of hedonism, or at least these events offered various / multiple reasons for people to show up. I think at the moment, balance is key. Audiences, and people in general, are just becoming more aware and conscious of the world around them, more informed, and I think club spaces should also be operating in a more informed manner, and engage with their audiences who are ultimately the ones keeping their businesses running. 

Do you think this contradiction is something that needs to be resolved, or perhaps it is something we need now more than ever to internalize as both consumers and creators, to help us better navigate the contradictory landscapes we are facing today in music, culture, and social life? 

We all still must operate within capitalism and consumer habits have infiltrated everything. Consumption is engrained now to such a degree that value is attached to everything. I hate to say it, but I don’t really know if all of this will last very long if things keep going this way.

“I think we need to have a reassessment of ‘real’ values, and create more events, spaces and projects which operate away from economic motives.”

This is something that needs to be said, at this time especially, because it is really leading to a very watered down culture overall. Social media, I feel, has greatly harmed dance music and clubbing as an experience. Connection and responsibility feels short lived. Of course, it goes without saying, it has helped to platform, amplify and support many artists and their careers, but there’s a downside as well. Attention spans are so short and people can easily take an apathetic stance while making it seem like they truly have a position.

“I think at present, DJs should use their platforms to speak for those who can’t, and use their influence positively.”

One last question to complete this release backstory’s picture: what were some of the influences behind it? Musical and not. 

I really wanted to approach this in a totally freeform way and just have fun. Working on this with estoc let me take my mind off a lot of things… estoc is such a multifaceted artist and producer; she does tons of remixes and collaborations, and I felt inspired to be pairing up with her, and especially being able to get this EP out just before she will have her FFS*. It took a while going back and forth, as she was already back in the US when we really started to hammer things out. It was really a pleasure to get the remixes back as well from 3Phaz and Brodinski, and we’re really pleased with what they came up with. Both her and I have an obsession with punk and noise, and I think together this came through in the end. We like that it’s merging so many things all at once, and also fits to the label as well, which we’ve both been huge fans of since its inception. Myself and DJ LOSER really wanted to invite her out to Berlin to play at the showcase we’re doing at Ohm next week, but unfortunately the timing wasn’t right, so I am really looking forward to meeting up with her when she’s recovered and touring again in a few months. 

Order the digital album here from 01.02.24
Interview · Andrea Bratta
Photography · Mike D’Hondt
Follow Oldyungmayn on Instagram and Soundcloud
Follow Estoc on Instagram and Soundcloud
*You can contribute to Estoc’s fundraiser here
Follow DJ LOSER on Instagram and Soudcloud
Follow Magdalena’s Apathy on Soundcloud
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Elpac & Grove

Posted on by nr

NR Sound Premiere #3 · Talk Small
Album · An Ode To Brentry Road EP
Release Date · 02.02.24

Artists · Elpac & Grove
Label · Amity

Talk Small

NR presents Track Etymology, the textual corollary to nr.world’s exploration of contemporary soundscapes: A series of short interviews delving in the processes and backstories behind the releases premiered on nr.world’s dedicated platform.

Hi guys! Thank you for doing this! The EP is titled An Ode To Brentry Road. I am curious to know the title’s backstory! Was the goal for the record a canonical Bristol take on Bass music? How much of the city is ingrained in your sound?

Elpac: So I moved to Bristol just over 3 years ago with my mates that I run Amity with (Camalot & Mulholland). The first house we moved into was on Brentry Road, this place became almost venue-like where there didn’t seem to be any noise limits nor a capacity on how many people we would have over for parties hahaha, it was a special place and it was also the place in which I made all of the tracks for the EP. I’d go out on a limb and say the whole street happened to see us go.  

I think with my production I’ve always been heavy on bass-focused music. Originally I was going to just put pen to paper and write the EP with the EP always in mind but it ended up with me making a lot of tracks and then overtime thinking about which would fit best for our label. I’ve constantly been inspired by music that is very weird and wonderful and this is where Bristol has had a massive touch on my sound, I’ve heard so many mad sounds in places like Strange Brew and The Island since moving here and I think if anything, this has become the most motivating and inspiring for my production. Parties such as accidentalmeetings, Normcore, psychotherapysessions have just blown my mind over the last few years to be honest, shout out the crew !

What were you thinking while laying down the Talk Small sonic palette?

Was there a certain sound you were going for, a certain vibe? What are the influences behind it? Walk us a little bit through the process.

E: I mean when Grove reached out I was like jumping around the house, you can ask the Amity boys hahahah. I’ve always wanted to work with a vocalist/mc, with my style and approach to music, there was nobody better than Grove. I think it was the same night we got in contact: I went on my laptop and smashed out like 3 tracks in 4 hours or something stupid, Talk Small was the first idea that I had.

“I wanted to encapsulate that kind of raw aggressive dancehall sound to work alongside groves vocals.”

I’ve always been influenced by that weird kind of slow-fast sounding music, producers like TSVI, Equiknoxx, Low End Activist all really push this sound that doesn’t seem to have any boundaries and I find that really interesting and enticing.

Grove: Dark and sexy is my favorite approach to club music. Proper waist-whine sweatbox riddims. I’ve been heavily in love with the combo of bashment and darker tech-leanings since listening to that Mr Mitch Techno Dancehall mix from 2019.

I’ve loved Elpac’s tunes since hearing in a TSVI mix and we got chatting and realized we crossed over strongly with the stuff we like listening to.

Ended up linking for a session in my little ex-police cell studio (big up The Island in Bristol) and this was the tune he brought to it –massive weapon.

Session flowed like mad, and we laid down some big phat extra synth layer(s) and the vocals.

Listening to Talk Small made me wish I had better speakers at home and think of how the way club music circulates and is experienced changes accordingly to the place and support it is experienced upon. How do you approach producing tracks intended for club use knowing that they will circulate digitally before ending up where they belong: Played in a dark club, on a proper sound-system?

E: I’m always making stuff with the idea of it being what I would want to be hearing, I don’t care too much about the thought of what others would want to hear from me. I think I benefit from this as it doesn’t limit what I’m doing. Obviously at times I’m like okay I want to make something hard for the clubs but I can always find myself overdoing it and overcomplicating the track. This is where me and Grove worked really well together because we didn’t spend too much time on it and we managed to get exactly what we wanted in one session.

G: With making bass-focused music, I used to worry about half the song being “missing” but now I honestly don’t think about it too much –

“I trust it’ll connect with the people it’s meant to, when it’s meant to.”

Was this your first collaboration? Should we expect more?

E: We actually made two tracks in the session but Talk Small was the one that made the cut, you can most definitely expect more from us.

Last but not least, a touch of synesthesia: What would your sound look like? Paint us a word picture.

E: A strobe-y smoked out tunnel of bodies.

Pre-order the digital album here
Interview · Andrea Bratta
Follow Elpac on Instagram and Soundcloud
Follow Grove on Instagram and Soundcloud
Follow Amity on Instagram , Soudcloud and Bandcamp
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