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Tag: NR MAGAZINE

TOCCORORO

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · TOCCORORO
Words · Andrea Bratta

NR sat down with Spanish sensation TOCCORORO just before her set at Mucho Flow’s closing club night. Backstage, sipping on a Red Bull and picking at some fruit—fresh from her post-flight beauty sleep (ah, the DJ life!)—she dives into her musical calling, her approach to a set, and what keeps her in love with the game.

Andrea Bratta Hey Claudia, how are you? Thanks for taking the time to speak with me ahead of your show.

TOCCORORO I’m good, thank you! I wish I could have get here sooner, I really wanted to catch Snow Strippers live, but I had to get my beauty sleep before tonight’s performance. I love festivals like this—similar to Unsound—they are really cozy, and I have the feeling everyone here is truly for the music.

AB Yeah, I get it. Some festivals, people just want to see the big names, snap photos..it all feels more like a 360° experience, rather than just a music festival, you know?

T Exactly, but here’s kinda different. I prefer festivals that focus on music, period. 

AB What’s interesting about Mucho Flow is that each venue has its own atmosphere and way of building a different atmosphere for the audience.

T Yes, that was the impression I had, also.

AB I think that this is something that could be interesting particularly for you as a performer—how people move through different spaces, gradually deepening their involvement, until it all culminates here, where we are right now, in the club.

T Yes! I think I’m gonna have a great night here. This room is gonna be insane, there’s such a great line-up.

AB I mean, I’ve got my flight at 9.00, and pick-up is at 6.30, so now that you make me think of it, I wish I had a nap or two too

T You’ll have to pull off an all-nighter, but I wouldn’t worry about it, just enjoy it [laughs]

AB Did you prepare something special for this set?

T  Actually, for this weekend I have some  brand new stuff that I’ve also been testing lately. There are some new tracks and transitions that I want to incorporate and try on this crowd. 

AB How does it feel to test new stuff around? I get to always prepare in advance before interviews, there’s the research phase, “testing” the questions in advance. I rarely get to improvise. 

T Yeah, it’s a bit of a risk, but that’s part of the thrill, right? I like testing how different crowds respond. This time, I’m maybe 60% confident they’ll love it—but I’m also curious to see how it plays with a different audience. I already know it works in other contexts. Like, playing a set in a club isn’t the same as at a festival. Take C2C, for example—the crowd there was pretty young. So when I drop a track that samples a show from my generation, layered with drums and everything, it hits in a fun, unexpected way. It’s got that diva energy, and I can tell it lands

AB One thing I wanted to ask about is the festival’s strong identity—it feels really intentional, with a lineup that brings together both live music lovers and fans of more experimental sounds, while still leaning into that atmospheric, club-like vibe. I imagine your set will spark some interesting conversations with the crowd, though you’ve already touched on that a bit. So maybe we can go a little deeper into your own project—CAOTICA. 

T My party is something really special to me—it’s like a marriage. Nitsa was one of the first clubbing institutions to really support me in Spain—they saw my vision and offered me the opportunity to create my own night, my own party with them.

We started last year, doing a series of three nights with me, Merca & Cardopusher. Each time, we curated a lineup of three artists—it’s not a monthly thing; it happens when it makes sense, when the right energy is there. For me, it has to feel natural, organic. The artists I bring need to align with my vision—I’m not here to push names just for the sake of it. It’s important to me that this party represents what I believe in, and it serves as a reflection of my work. The first two parties leaned toward a more Latin-Club sound, maybe more aggressive, with a strong South American influence. But then, with Cardo, there’s that UK touch—deep, bass-driven, but still carrying Latin influences from his background. There’s always this dark, intense sonic thread that ties it all together.

I am also very very happy to be in the position of introducing and giving a platform to new talent like Blood of Aza. For me, this new wave of artists is really exciting—they’re pushing things in the right direction with a strong artistic vision. Bringing her to her first Boiler Room, her first big festival, and her first gig in Spain—at my party—was something I was really proud of. I’m a huge fan of hers.

Next year, we’re taking things even further. People think CAOTICA is just a Latin club night, but it’s much more than that—it’s everything I truly believe in and feel represented by. The next one is going to be really special—bringing in two legends, two friends, and collaborating with a label I really respect. You should stay tuned for it.

Everyone is welcome in my house. I don’t care about labels, I don’t care about boxes. If you believe in the vision, if you’re pushing the sound forward, I fuck with you.

AB Indeed. You know, some might say that the concept of a “scene” is fading because everything has become so global. Festivals now showcase everything, bringing what was once underground into the mainstream of electronic music. But I think that, while it may have seemed that way for a moment, we’re actually seeing a resurgence—scenes, parties, and more collaborative efforts between artists are making a strong comeback. Even festivals like Mucho Flow, whose focus is having a grassroots approach to music. It’s exciting to witness and be part of. Speaking of scenes, could you walk me through some of your main influences?

T My main influences—well, I have to say, and I’m a little embarrassed to say it, but before starting my career as a DJ, I was actually much more involved in dance. I grew up obsessed with movement. As a kid, I was the type to stay home all day just watching performances, completely fascinated by them. I remember always asking my mom, “When am I going to do that?” I loved the idea of being a musician, a dancer, or maybe both. I was constantly curious, always diving deeper into music.

But at the time, I didn’t really see a clear path into that world. Maybe it was because I was a woman or because I wasn’t surrounded by a community that encouraged me in that direction. I didn’t come from a scene or a party culture—I came from the music industry, but not in a way that felt immediately connected to what I do now. I was the first in my family to take this path. So when people ask me about my biggest influences, I struggle to name just one. I wasn’t looking up to a specific artist or trying to emulate anyone. Most of my friends had been immersed in music since the beginning, but for me, inspiration came from everywhere—movies, fashion, art, whatever caught my attention.

The real turning point came when I was in college. I thought I wanted to work in fashion or film, but I kept feeling like something was missing. And that missing piece was always music. It had been there all along, even when I ignored it. Funny enough, I actually studied journalism—I even considered becoming a music journalist. I loved radio, absolutely hated writing, and wasn’t into filmmaking, but radio shows and podcasts? That was my thing.

After university, I started getting involved in the local music scene in my city. At first, I was mostly surrounded by rappers and DJs—almost all men. And I hate to frame it like I was being “sht out” because I don’t want to victimize myself, but the reality is, at that time, things were different. There weren’t many women in my generation stepping into that space. Things have changed so much in the last five years, and now there are so many incredible female DJs, which is amazing to see. But back then? I was one of the very few.

I started throwing parties with one of my best friends, who’s actually now one of my dancers at Sónar. We put together a party series in Vigo, Galicia, and I handled the creative direction. It was a monthly event, and by the second year, I was fully immersed. At first, the DJ lineup was mostly men—I knew that was the standard. But at some point, I realized we could change that. It wasn’t just about booking DJs; it was about building something new. I reached out to my friends who were already into it, and they helped me learn how to use a controller. I ended up practicing for four hours straight—it just felt natural, like something that had always been inside me. I guess it makes sense, considering I’d been imagining it my whole life.

But honestly, I started feeling even more inspired once I began touring and meeting people in the industry. Seeing different scenes, playing in different places—it all shaped my perspective. Every city, every crowd, every moment on stage has influenced me in some way. I feel like my experience has been built entirely on what I’ve lived firsthand.

AB I mean, the way you talk about it really resonates. You approached music through community—by being surrounded by people, by the energy around you. And in a way, you channeled that community into your own journey.

T This was something that was always meant to be—I just didn’t realize it at first. As a kid, I knew I had a sense of rhythm, but I didn’t quite understand what it meant or where it would lead me. And then, eventually, it all clicked. Like, okay, this is it—this is what I’ve had inside me all along. It’s a beautiful feeling. Finally, for the first time in my life, I know what I’m meant to do. And even if I have to pay the price for it, at least now, I know why.

AB For me, it was the opposite. I resisted things like interviewing or writing, the more journalistic side of things, but it turned out to be what I was actually good at. I went to fashion school because I wanted to work in fashion, but somehow, I ended up where I was meant to be, just like you. And, here we are. Life’s funny. Anyway, I hope you have an amazing show tonight. I’m looking forward to it. It’s been great talking to you. Thank you!

Photography ·
Listen to TOCCORORO Live From Mucho Flow
More information on muchoflow.net

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

Nina Raasch – Saskia Jung

Posted on by nr

NR · Spring Summer 24
Published · Online

Team Credits

Photography · Nina Raasch
Styling · Saskia Jung
Hair and Makeup · Darja Crainiucenco
Model · Clara Dibbern (Le Management, Premier Models London)

Styling Credits

  1. Dress ROKH, tights FALKE and shoes ACNE STUDIOS
  2. Top AKNVAS, earring CULT GAIA, tights FALKE and heels lOANNES
  3. Dress MM6 MAISON MARGIELA, knitwear longsleeve HADERLUMP, heels ACNE STUDIOS and earrings UNCOMMON MATTERS
  4. Dress DAVID KOMA
  5. Bra top, arm sleeves and knitted pants KATHARINA DUBBICK, tights FALKE and shoes MM6 MAISON MARGIELA
  6. Full look KATHARINA DUBBICK
  7. Top ROKH, dress styled as skirt LION BUSCH and necklace MAX MARA
  8. Longsleeve AVENIR, knit pants KATHARINA DUBBICK, earring UNCOMMON MATTERS and heels OANNEC
  9. Dress MATERIEL, earrings CULT GAIA and heels lOANNES

b+

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · b+
Words · Simone Lorusso

Prioritizing preservation: reclaiming cultural significance in the modern age

We currently live in an era where preservation often takes a backseat. Whether it’s deleting social media content after a season or neglecting human relationships and valuable spaces, we often fail to recognize the cultural significance behind our actions. It’s crucial to shift our mindset and prioritize gestures, people, and the environment around us.

bplus.xyz (b+), a collaborative architecture studio operating at the nexus of theory and practice, utilizes various mediums and approaches to tackle contemporary challenges, especially those concerning socio-ecological transformation and the adaptive reuse of existing buildings. With environmentally and economically sustainable solutions, b+ embraces the potential of our existing built environment and aims to unlock its latent possibilities. Through a collaborative model, b+ emphasizes working with diverse actors and stakeholders in project development.

To start our discussion, how does bplus.xyz (b+) practice address contemporary challenges like social-ecological transformation and adaptive building reuse with economically and ecologically sustainable solutions?

Jonas Janke: We as b+ understand architecture as an open process, and view buildings as part of larger systems that require a systemic approach. We see the given framework of existing buildings and legislation as an active design tool that carries the potential for transformation within. Thus, we celebrate the potential of the existing built environment, and aim to reveal and activate the latent potentials that lie within.

To do so we are working with different formats – films, political activism, campaigns, exhibitions, symposiums and of course our projects should serve as build arguments that represent an alternative approach and perspective towards the mentioned contemporary challenges.

Jolene Lee: Continuing on what JJ said, b+ engages in formats and fields “outside” of architecture or what is expected of architecture, especially legislation and politics because we understand how the decisions made on that level affect our built environment socially and ecologically. We strongly believe that to change the system is to work in the system. 

Therefore, our design projects are not unique design approaches to the reuse of existing buildings or structures, instead, they stand as built arguments, prototypes, models, and answers to our contemporary challenges (finiteness of resources).

I’d like to focus on the renovation of the Ernst Lück lingerie factory. How does the renovation of this factory in the former GDR extend beyond surface improvements, and what wider implications does this approach hold for architectural practice?

JJ: The Antivilla is a project where we were client, investor, developer, and architect all in one. The intention was to develop a case study that defines a new way of energy-efficient refurbishment.

The name “Antivilla” doesn’t protest against the concept and typologie of a villa, but critiques the resource-intensive lifestyle of villa dwellers. It raises the fundamental question about how comfort can be defined and redefined in the future.


For this reason, the energy demand calculation was applied differently than usual and off-standard solutions were also implemented – for which any other client would very likely have sued us, or at least wouldn’t be comfortable to accept this nonconformity. But we were confident and also couldn’t sue ourselves, so everything was possible.

The abandoned 500 square meter building was not appealing for future investors due to the high demolition costs. In addition, a regulation states that any demolished building could only be rebuilt with 100 square meters of living space, 20 percent of the existing volume. Demolition therefore would have caused a massive loss of gray energy in terms of both labor and material. The concept thus contains a number of selective measures that permit its new usage as a studio and a residential building and of course the aforementioned question how comfort can be defined or redefined in times of resource scarcity and climate-crisis. 

Furthermore a financing trick was applied: When buying the property from the former owner it was said: market price minus demolition costs will be the purchase price (what we pay), since the application for the new 100 square meter house was on the table. Towards the bank/credit institutions it was said: “Well, building-shell already stands, this is our own contribution, the transformation will be financed.” Interesting is that we gained value from something which is considered to have no value – a house which shall be demolished. Nice plot twist – right?

One widespread definition of architecture is: Architecture is everything that makes us humans independent of nature. Reyner Banham (architectural theorist) understands that we need to protect ourselves from certain extremes of the environment, but that the environment should be seen as a dialogue partner to architecture – as an integral rather than an external force.

The approach of Antivilla is rethinking Reyner Banham’s concept in The Architecture of the Well-Tempered Environment (1969) and combines his two distinct principles of space creation: Constructive- and Energy-supported Space Generation.

Constructive vs. energy-supported space generation: 

This can be explained quite simply with a short story, like Reyner Banham used to describe it: 

People, imagine for example scouts, are given wood to set up camp in the forest. 

One part of the group builds a roof and protecting walls with the wood > constructive space generation. 

The other part of the group takes the wood and creates a fire to warm themselves > energy-supported space generation.

The existing exterior walls are kept like they are – not insulated – comparable to the approach where the people used the wood to build a roof and walls > constructive space building.

The core acts like the central fireplace in a classical farmhouse.

This is comparable to the fire > energy-based space formation.

Around that core are translucent curtains installed. The curtains are a key element of the project – they allow different temperature zones to be set up without having to use permanent room partitions. In Winter, the heated room shrinks to an area around the core of about 50 square meters; in the Summer, it can expand and increase the usable area to up to 250 square meters. 

In this way, the curtains are allowing flexible climatic conditions. A temperature difference of 12-13 degrees is created because the curtains are not really insulating but they are stopping the circulation and loss of warm air.

The functional principle of the Antivilla could be described as the adaptation of “The Well-Tempered” to the “Differentiated Environment” through its adaptable climate zones but can also be described as: “New Primitivism” since it is actually following well-established traditional low-tech approaches.

The project gained widespread attention due to its visually striking architecture and its controversial but comprehensible approach. It was able to leave the architectural bubble, by being featured in publications like the New York Times Magazine. Only such projects have the potential to influence collective societal perspectives and raise a new awareness.

In the opening scenes of the film “Themroc”, Faraldo presents a society where strange creatures struggle to communicate amidst a cacophony of urban sounds—cars, horns, subways, doors, engines, coughs, and the bustling footsteps of commuters. How does Faraldo’s experimental film “Themroc” (1973) relate to the renovation project’s significance?

JJ: The creation of the holes in the facade was celebrated as a collective happening. Friends and collaborators were invited, food and beer was offered and sledgehammers were prepared to be used. As an Ad-Hock-Action, holes were punched in the face where needed – towards the lake and towards the forest. Logically, in a former production building, the focus was not on the view, so these window openings were missing.

Due to the new concrete roof which replaced the contaminated asbestos roof, a structural principle was created which allowed the freedom to punch holes in the facade wherever you want – the only requirement was to keep the corners of the existing perimeter walls. It was a celebration of the new acquired freedom to spontaneously shape views. Here again the processual thinking in a project can be recognised, which was mentioned in your initial question. 

But at the same time it raises again a question of standards and definitions – is an archaic hole in the facade also a window?  

So the spontaneous, archaic and rough celebration of this action can be also found in the movie Themroc, when he decides to live isolated like a caveman in his apartment and also punched a hole in the facade as an act of protest and liberation. 

Now I would like to talk about a project that in a way brings me back to my country. What inspired the idea of “San Gimignano Lichtenberg,” and how did it contribute to reshaping the narrative of the area?

JJ: For all those who don’t know the original “San Gimignano”. San Gimignano is a famous Italian village in Tuscany, which is known for its towers. Every year thousands of tourists travel to San Gimignano to visit the small historic village, which is situated on a hill, and experience “la dolce vita”. 

Now to our project “San Gimignano Lichtenberg” and why we had to borrow the image and history of the Tuscan mountain village with the towers. 

The two towers – one the former staircase tower, the other the former coal and graphite silo – are remnants of the state-owned company “VEB Elektrokohle” from the GDR era. After the fall of the Wall, the once divided Germany became one again. Many facilities and equipment were now duplicated, including the semiconductor factory in Lichtenberg. Its use became obsolete. Due to the high demolition costs of the two concrete towers, the properties were not very attractive to investors. The ruins remained unused and empty until 2010. 

Back then, one went to the bank with the idea of transforming the former silo tower into a prototype workshop and reported that these unbreakable concrete ruins in Lichtenberg were the starting point. 

This did not meet with much favor and funding was refused. 

But the invention of the story about the town of San Gimignano Lichtenberg brought the long-awaited success in a second attempt to acquire funding. The vision of San Gimignano Lichtenberg with its powerful words and images captured the imagination of the bankers and they began to believe in the place and the project. Financing was secured. 

The realization that a strong narrative, as the first non-architectural intervention in the project, was necessary and decided whether the project would fail or not, clearly showed us as an office that storytelling is a crucial tool for us architects. 

This led, amongst other things, to the reason why today the chair at the ETH in Zurich of Arno Brandlhuber “station+” does not teach how to draw floor plans, but how to do storytelling effectively and  convincingly – because this is a skill that is not usually taught as part of an architecture degree. 

How was the meaning of the two towers enhanced in order to shift away from the perception of them as mere ruins?

JJ: The towers, as they stand there today, embody more than a mere ruinous existence. Externally, they may have not changed significantly. Programmatically, however, they have. 

From the rooftop today, one ponders the future of architecture as a response to evolving needs and values, symbolised by the towers amid shifting political, economic, and ecological landscapes. Recent crises underscore the rapidity of change in local and global affairs. The imperative for fundamental change challenges the notion of no alternatives. Cultural values are embedded in the frameworks of daily life. Amidst zoning complexities and development pressures, the question arises: how will we live together? Architects must confront issues of speculation, segregation, resource use, and technology escalation, seeking strategies for a shared and improved future through adaptive reuse of existing structures.

The b+ prototype workshop is seen as a built argument and cultural capital. 

On the one hand, it is intended to highlight the potential of existing buildings and draw attention to the seemingly “useless”. The existing stock is a valuable resource – this we all need to understand. 

On the other hand, the site offers affordable workspaces for young up-and-coming practices and serves as a location for events and symposiums. 

Keller Easterling emphasises the importance of architects considering the broader cultural impact of their designs beyond their physical form. In what manner does architecture become an argument for the ongoing change in society? And, in your opinion, why is it crucial for architects to consider the broader cultural impact of their designs beyond their physical form?

Roberta Jurcic: We as architects have a complicit role in what is happening in the world around us, and often it feels like we have no agency and are forced to act based on the economical pressure. Therefore, our office’s main challenge, as architect and transformation scientist Saskia Hebert puts it, is to establish a self-sustainable practice in times of post-growth, where we engage with the projects that align with our agenda. Once you acknowledge your responsibilities, you understand that everything you do has a broader cultural impact – from window detail, to who is your client, to what competitions you partake in, and how you challenge the status quo. JL already mentioned, changing a sentence in the law often has bigger impacts on the built environment than a design for a freestanding family house. 

Speaking of social and cultural impact, I cannot fail to mention the Mäusebunker. How does the history of this building mirror broader societal perspectives on human engagement with nature?

RJ: Storytelling, symbolism, cultures, and society have a long, intertwined history. Is there a better story than converting a bunker-like former animal testing laboratory into a showcase for cohabitation between humans and non-humans?

What challenges does the Mäusebunker face in finding a new purpose, particularly in light of contemporary legislation such as the Climate Change Act, and how does the preservation and conversion of buildings like the Mäusebunker contribute to promoting climate neutrality by 2045?

RJ: The biggest challenge lies in finding a way to fit buildings that formerly had a different use into the building requirements of the new program. From the “unexpectedness” of the existing building to fulfilling basics like ceiling height, light, and air/ventilation requirements. This challenge can also be seen within the current topic of transforming office buildings into housing. The biggest contribution in terms of climate presents understanding that if we take these acts seriously, firstly, we don’t have enough “CO2-budget” to demolish buildings. 

Secondly, understanding that those buildings are massive storages of CO2, and their demolition can be compared to cutting down parts of forests. Finally, understanding that no matter how passive a newly built house can be, it can never compete when we count the invested energy into the existing building, the energy for its demolition, the energy for a new building, and then in the end comes the “maintenance” energy difference that is insignificant.

How does Germany’s commitment to reducing CO2 emissions align with the assessment of the existing building stock’s value, particularly in terms of invested energy?

JL: If we understand today the real price of CO2 emissions in terms of not only economical but also social and ecological values, then we know that our building and construction sector cannot continue business as usual – we need a radical change. Especially after the 2019 pandemic, we have seen what today’s world is capable of (pausing rapid consumption). 

We need to see our existing building stock as “storages of CO2” (Oana Bogdan, The Demolition Drama). Instead of the tabula rasa approach, we should regard our current urban fabric as the status quo, work with the existing, and take the challenge to “build on the built” (Herzog & de Meuron, The Demolition Drama). This is one of the ways we can contribute to the commitment of reducing CO2 emissions at a much lesser cost (if we assign values to material based on its finiteness and the catastrophic consequences of its depletion). 

JJ: Indeed and we should also see this as an opportunity for us as architects. You often hear fellow architects complaining that the enormous pressure from project developers, who have to keep within budget and cut costs, which in turn can only be done by saving on materials or labor, leads to the same architecture over and over again. 

You don’t want to design buildings for which plans just have to be pulled out of a drawer and applied to plots like stamps. 

That’s why I said that we have to see it as an opportunity to be creative with the existing and work within the context of the existing. The existing always holds new tasks and challenges in store – isn’t that great? 

HouseEurope! Tell me more.

Based on everything discussed, it is within the DNA of b+ to engage with the task of dealing with the existing, with something old, considered waste or valueless by coming up with creative solutions, both legislative and economic. This spirit has resulted not only in built projects, but as well in films and initiatives, namely, Legislating Architecture, The Property Drama, and Architecting after Politics as well as RGB 165/96/36 CMYK 14/40/80/20, and Global Moratorium on New Construction.

HouseEurope!, our latest initiative, is a non-profit organization which advocates for the preservation of the existing building stock against demolition by speculation. In the long run, building on the legacy of the investigations undertaken by b+ (formerly known as Brandlhuber+), HouseEurope! aims to be a policy lab in which the research on legislating architecture can manifest in different forms such as the upcoming European Citizens’ Initiative (ECI) campaign. 

ECI is a tool for direct democracy founded by the European Commission themselves since 2011. Inspired by Swiss referendums that allow a popular vote on new laws, the ECI enables EU citizens to propose new laws or suggest changes to existing ones. 1 million EU citizens from at least seven member states can invite the European Commission to consider their proposal and dedicate a working group to assess their submitted claim. This provides citizens a direct say in the EU policy-making process and a platform to raise awareness on important issues.

HouseEurope! is a growing team of citizens that brings together diverse perspectives and expertise from the fields of architecture, labor, and politics. Backed by industry leaders and educators such as Lacaton & Vassal, Herzog & de Meuron and Architectural Council Europe (ACE), we are committed to creating precedents for the social-ecological transformation of how we live together.

Subscribe to our newsletter or take an active role here.

How does the HouseEurope! initiative aims to address the issue of building demolition driven by speculation?

Theoretically, we understand that this issue can be made aware through a trifecta of social, ecological and economic factors. If we take seriously the aim of the EU to be climate neutral by 2050, we have a lot of work to do. Looking at our building and construction sector, we are contributing 35-40% to CO2 emissions. On the other hand, the finiteness of building land and material leads to rising construction costs where the same building costs more and more. Yet, we are still building, but more of the same generic buildings that we can still afford, which is a result of reducing material and labor as mentioned by JJ previously. With these two arguments in mind, we are also facing a housing crisis where we are running out of buildings to house people. How can that be? Some food for thought.

Concretely, we identified several legal levers to incentivize the keeping of existing buildings which can be submitted through the tool of ECI that can tip the scales for the greater good. We are currently drafting the legal proposals with EU lawyers and advisors to be submitted this year. Alongside, we are also collecting successful renovation stories to showcase best practice cases of social-ecological transformation of the existing building stock through measures focused on building preservation, adaptation, renovation, and transformation.

How can we effectively promote the socio-ecological transformation of existing building stock, particularly among younger generations who will play a crucial role in deciding where and how to purchase homes in the future?

JL: To answer the first part of the question, I believe that transformation starts with education and public awareness. We are already seeing movements from the younger generation such as Fridays for Future, demanding issues to be tackled within this generation and not postponing it to the next (and the next). Perhaps the harm on the planet caused by the vicious cycle of demolition and rebuilding driven by speculation is niche knowledge today but it will very soon be common sense like deforestation and ocean pollution. As a practice, we take part in this mission to raise awareness through our previously mentioned initiative, HouseEurope!.

As to the latter part of the question or more like statement, I personally am conflicted at the thought of promoting where and how to purchase homes in the future because maybe homes should not be a commodity to be bought and traded, instead, evolve into a common way of designing spaces for and by the society by challenging the current model of asset ownership.

JJ: We have all understood (at least I hope we have) that we should stop using plastic bags and reduce traveling by plane to a necessary minimum in order to reach or come close to the climate goals we are aiming for. All these campaigns to raise awareness are being passionately supported by and thanks to the younger generations.

I think we have to continue exactly as they are showing us. Make built arguments (realized projects) accessible as positive examples. We give free guided tours of our projects almost every week for students, other architects and generally interested people. In this way you become familiar with our way of thinking and approaches and knowledge and information leave the architectural bubble.

However, easily accessible media such as film and exhibition contributions should also be pursued further. 

HouseEurope! is really exciting and has a dimension of political activism that we have never done on such a large scale before. But we are motivated, confident and optimistic that we will succeed. Imagine that, as architects, we can directly influence the legislation that affects our own actions. 

Where and how to purchase homes in the future. Good question! Especially in times when the chance that we will one day be able to call a house our own is getting smaller and smaller. The question of alternative ownership models is justified.  Or whether we should pool our strengths and financial resources and work together with several parties and people who have the same interests. 

“Renovate, don’t speculate” serves as a powerful life philosophy. In an era where preservation often takes a back seat, it’s crucial to activate existing spaces, adapting and renewing them to meet our needs. Achieving socio-ecological transformation requires empathizing with the space and the stories it carries. Personally, I’ve embraced this motto by purchasing a small space in a refurbished 1800s cotton factory, which I now proudly call home. Living here allows me to connect with local history, reflecting daily on the actions of those who worked here two centuries ago.

Credits

  1. Antivilla, 2010-2014. Berlin. Photography by Erica Overmeer. Courtesy of Erica Overmeer.
  2. San Gimignano Lichtenberg, 2012- . Photography by Erica Overmeer. Courtesy of Erica Overmeer.
  3. Mäusebunker, 2022- . Berlin. b+. Film stills. Courtesy of b+.
  4. HouseEurope! Film stills. Courtesy of House of Europe.

Miles Greenberg

Posted on by nr

NR · Magazine
Published · Online

Feature · Miles Greenberg
Words · Simone Lorusso

Navigating Space and Body in Contemporary Art

In the realm of contemporary art, Miles Greenberg stands as a Canadian-born artist and sculptor whose work unfolds as a dynamic exploration of space, movement, and the intricate interplay between the physical body and its surroundings. 

Unraveling his history, we progressively revealed the intricacies of his artistic approach, prompting a more profound question: who is Miles Greenberg in the present moment? As we journey through his narrative, we seamlessly move between the Amsterdam and Paris presentations of “TRUTH” and the impending showcase at the Venice Biennale.

To kick off our conversation, I’m curious about the profound influence New York holds in shaping your artistic expression. How does the dynamic environment of the city contribute to the thematic elements woven into your work?
Louise Bourgeois once said, on New York, “I love this city, its clear-cut look, its sky, its buildings, and its scientific, cruel, romantic quality.” I think that sums it up for me too. Something about it allows me to think and breathe – in the exact opposite way that my other home, Reykjavík, allows me to think and breathe. It’s important to be able to think and breathe in the place(s) you call home.

As you ventured beyond Montreal to explore diverse cities like Paris, northern Italy, and Beijing, could you share the insights and experiences you garnered during these residencies? How did the unique characteristics of each location shape and enrich your artistic perspective?

I grew up with a very ambiguous sense of origin. My mom was adopted by Canada to a Jewish family, but is biologically Ukrainian and Brazilian (something we only learned last year after the passing of her mother) and my father’s never been in the picture so much and I never met his family, so feeling like I’m from nowhere gave me permission early on to be from everywhere. I didn’t use to have a studio, so every time I’d travel with a pocket folder pregnant with scraps of paper and drawings and printouts that i’d pin up on the wall of every residency, airbnb or hotel room i’d stay in for days, weeks or months and commit wholeheartedly to being of that place. It’s taught me to switch in and out of the worlds I create very fast, which I think helped me do all these shows in such rapid succession.

I’m fascinated by the four-year period of independent research you embarked on, delving into the realms of movement and architecture. Can you elaborate on the nature of this research and how it played a pivotal role in shaping the evolution of your artistic practice during that time?

I left school very young to start working. After a year of performing in nightclubs and doing various experiments in DIY artist-run spaces in Montreal, I went to work for a Canadian choreographer in China. I was doing extra night classes in various languages throughout high school, so by the time I dropped out at seventeen, I was proficient in Mandarin, Italian, Spanish, German with a base in Russian, in addition to my native French and English. By the time I finished the two months interning at the dance academy, I got an artist residency and stayed on in Beijing a bit longer. Shortly thereafter, I moved to Paris to start doing classes and workshops at École Jacques Lecoq in movement and space. I did that for about nine months with intermittent workshops in butoh, sculpture, and artist residencies in Italy and the US. I did the Watermill Center summer programme with Robert Wilson two years in a row, and intensive workshops with Marina Abramović in Greece. By the time I moved to New York in summer of 2019, applied to Cooper Union and got rejected, I basically already had a pretty substantial education. But because I never really had adequate closure on my academic career, I really still feel like a student. I was always a decade or more younger than everyone around me. I’m only now at 26 starting to feel like my age is beginning to catch up with me.

How do you utilize the physical body as a sculptural material in your performances, and what significance do this approach hold within the context of your larger body of work?

I think of all of my work as sculpture, whether it’s performance, video or sculpture. It’s all designed to be looked at like sculpture; the duration, the pace, the role of the audience, I want you to feel the same as when you’re looking at classical statuary. It’s just the most accessible form of art to me, the relationship between a viewer and a statue is something I understand, so it’s what I make.

“TRUTH” seems to challenge conventional boundaries between performance art, sculpture, and installation art. What inspired this interdisciplinary approach, and how does it manifest in the viewer’s experience?

I wanted to make the audience feel implicated in the show by suspending them in some liminal, inaccessible vacuum between the worlds of the performers and the spectators – two worlds which are visibly radically different; banality or fantasy. I was going for a “sunken place” à la Get Out and/or Under The Skin.

The interplay of mediums feels natural and necessary to me. I secretly kind of hate the term performance artist, to be honest. Performance is something I’ll come back to constantly for the rest of my life, it’s my centre, but I do a lot more than just that.

Chino Amobi’s original soundtrack is mentioned as part of the immersive experience. Can you elaborate on the collaborative process between you and the composer, and how the music complements the visual aspects of the installation?

I’m a gigantic Chino Amobi fan, I’m so glad he said yes to this; I was listening to him a ton in the studio while working on the show and it just felt logical. We haven’t even seen each other IRL since the project began; I sent him one or two quick WhatsApp voice notes with the premise and he concocted exactly what was in my head right from the first draft within like ten days, it was insane – It felt like one of those really effortless telepathic collaborations, I’m super grateful.

The term “reflective landscape” is intriguing. Could you share more about the symbolism or metaphorical significance of the reflective pool in “TRUTH” and its relation to the overall concept of the piece?

I like making works with no beginning or end, and I like making pieces with no top or bottom. When you put a piece on a reflective surface, the bottom becomes the middle and the top becomes its extremities – It just feels better to me. I also love working with water because it ripples at the slightest movement and it makes the public sensitive to microscopic movements that they’d otherwise miss.

The 7-hour duration of the battle in “TRUTH” is quite unique. What inspired the decision for such an extended performance, and how does the duration contribute to the overall impact on the audience?

All my work is that long, sometimes longer. Duration is transformative for the performer, yes, but on a more practical level, I find it’s more accessible to the public. There’s no expectation of the public to watch a seven or eight hour performance in full, there’s no format – the viewer is responsible for their viewership experience. If they’d like to be very serious and monastic and watch every minute of it seated with their phones off, they can. If they’d rather take pictures and chat about it while strolling through, that’s also welcome. Again, think of it as sculpture.

Knowing you’ll soon grace Venice’s premier contemporary art event, the anticipation must be palpable. How do you ready yourself for the reveal of your work, and what emotions do you navigate in the lead-up to the performance?

I’m in Montreal right now training about six hours a day with an ex-Cirque du Soleil physical therapist and movement coach. I try to be very rigorous. I probably shouldn’t even be on my computer right now.

Can you offer a sneak peek into what audiences can expect from this particular showcase?

Saint Sebastian and robots.

Credits

  1. Miles Greenberg, 2020. Video by Adrien Bertolle. Courtesy of the artist.
  2. Miles Greenberg, Etude pour Sebastien, 2023. The Louvre, Paris, France. Courtesy of the artist.
  3. Miles Greenberg, Etude pour Sebastien, 2023. The Louvre, Paris, France. Courtesy of the artist.
  4. Miles Greenberg, Water in a Heatwave, 2021. BOCA Lisbon, Lisbon, Portugal. Photography by Bruno Simao.
  5. Miles Greenberg, Water in a Heatwave, 2021. BOCA Lisbon, Lisbon, Portugal. Photography by Bruno Simao.
  6. Miles Greenberg, Lepidopterophobia, 2020. Courtesy of the artist and Sky Arts.
  7. Miles Greenberg, Truth, 2023. Powerhouse Arts, Brooklyn, New York. Courtesy of the artist
  8. Miles Greenberg, Truth, 2023. Powerhouse Arts, Brooklyn, New York. Courtesy of the artist
  9. Miles Greenberg, Sebastian, 2024. Palazzo Malipiero, Venice, Italy. Courtesy of the artist, Museum Berggruen and Neue Nationalgalerie. Photography by Francesco Allegretto.

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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LOREM

Posted on by nr

NR Video Premiere · SEAGULLS
Artist · LOREM

Directed by · LOREM and Karol Sudolski
Release Date · 11.04.24

SEAGULLS

NR presents Soundsights, Track Etymology’s sister column: An inquiry into the convergence between sound, its visual expressions, investigating music’s intrinsically visual narrative quality.

I wanted to start by delving a bit into the past. As I was researching your work, I found myself amidst an incredible journey down memory lane when I realized you were part of Aucan! I was 14 when Black Rainbow came out, and I remember that record being one the first passages I encountered toward two things: the more experimental side of electronic music and the world of music writing – online reviews, music theory, blogging. It was when I started to be conscious that a discourse around music existed, one beyond “simply” listening to it. At what point in your career did you decide to move towards different mediums, or rather, why did you feel the need to build upon music and annex to it a different, transdisciplinary narrative and experiential dimension?

Haha! I’m glad to hear you listened to Black Rainbow! Aucan was a seminal experience for me – we really shared everything for many years, and developed something which transcended the individual level. After nearly 10 years and over 300 live shows and we finally took a pause, I felt the need to find a place where I could converge various priorities. I studied philosophy, and then arts & design. During that time and along with friends, I co-founded what would become Krisis Publishing. I realized that to discover a new and authentic language, I needed to integrate the diverse, often conflicting, elements I was engaged with. Adopting a multidisciplinary approach to the project thus came naturally.

The pandemic, in a way, further propelled me in this direction. Until then, following Adversarial Feelings (2019), LOREM was predominantly a sonic project. However, the inability to tour for live shows forced me to explore new expressive avenues. I started producing AV live sessions in the studio designed for home viewing, aimed at audiences to experience them as they would a Netflix series—this format seemed most fitting given our confined livelihoods at the time. This shift led me closer to what is now the project’s narrative aspects, which today remains one of my primary interests. It was during this period that I conceived the idea to create several installations, such as the first iteration of Distrust Everything, which I introduced at Graz’s Elevate Festival in 2021.

“The limits of my language mean the limit of my world.” The opener of Wittgenstein tractatus that rings exceptionally true for AI and language models. Musical language and computational language have long been intertwined in LOREM production, and, as your press release states, Time Coils is “imbued with global cultural correspondence and reimagined connections sourced from a wide range of references.” I don’t want to spoil the fun of discovery, but I’m curious to hear from you about some of the influences and central elements behind this project and how they concurred to form its language/world.

The relationship between language and our experience of the world is indeed one of the fundamental aspects I aim to explore with LOREM. Significant influences for Time Coils, as well as for my practice, come from authors like Franco Bifo Berardi, Federico Campagna, Jacques Derrida and Timothy Morton, among others. Today, machine learning provides advanced statistical tools for working on data corpora (texts, images, videos) from an inter linguistic perspective:

“I am interested in building archives of samples (and texts), and interpolating them to examine the interstices… to hear a hybrid sound between a voice and a guitar, to see a face that is also a tree, to read a text that lies between Thomas Pynchon and Franz Kafka.”

This approach was actually the starting point for writing Time Coils. I employed this method both on my samples and on those collected from a wide range of sources. The datasets include traces of soundtracks from early Walt Disney films, old school dubstep tracks, re-synthesized rap acapellas, and Italian prog music. Often the references are completely unrecognizable and become something else, but I like the idea that an attentive listener might discover traces of other works in a completely new form.

Did you have more of a narrative-oriented approach to the record or were you more interested in atmospheres and leaving sonic and visual traces for the listener to follow?

While the narrative dimension has become essential for LOREM, with Time Coils I felt compelled to refocus on purely musical exploration. Working with images and especially texts means that the music must always complement the overall experience. This requirement doesn’t weaken the music per se, but it does confine it within a specific framework. Over the last couple of years, I’ve attempted to differentiate my compositional approach depending on the consumption context. On one side, I am keen on advancing an inquiry into states of consciousness through texts and large-scale audiovisual narratives and installations. On the other, I’ve chosen to pursue a strictly musical path with my audio releases.

“Time Coils, therefore, departs from the concept of crafting a narrative and is instead an opportunity to create a sonic landscape, a sort of auditory swamp that results from a continuous process of self-digestion.”

Back on the AI Language-music adjacency, how do the two processes intertwine in your approach to composition? What do you think composing an algorithm and composing sounds have in common?

I would say that in this case, algorithmic writing is a part of the musical writing project. Perhaps for a “classic” programmer (or should I say a “real” programmer), the code is the true product of creative intervention. In my case, however, the output of the algorithmic processes is never the end result. Ultimately, it’s always me who picks up the pieces, trying to fit them together organically, sometimes without hiding the flaws.

Over the past few years, I’ve been developing methods to integrate machine learning into my musical production processes. These involve sampling, time-stretching, granular synthesis, and recorded instrumental music. I started in 2016 by using simple LSTM (Long Short-Term Memory) systems to generate percussive MIDI files, which reinterpreted beats from my jam session recordings. Later, I began recording the automation I applied on samplers via SysEx to create datasets that would help train other models. Recently, I have also started to focus on audio manipulation, including simulating microphone re-amping, blending completely different types of instruments (such as analog instruments with synths, or percussion with vocals), and generating synthetic rap vocals that I can control with my own voice.

Throughout your work I find that the concept of interaction is a central one: machine-man, man to man, the individual and the group, visual and sonic languages. AI is not only generative but also perceptual, much like ‘real’ audiences. It simulates neural networks through mathematical abstractions in order to perceive inputs and register them. What is your relationship with audience perception, and how does your knowledge of audience response to an art piece or a live exhibition inform your interactions with machines?

Certainly, the hybridization of various disparate elements greatly interests me. I’m not particularly keen on framing AI as a generative tool. It seems much more intriguing to view it as an agent of transformation and hybridization.
When interacting with the audience, however, I generally do not seek a direct exchange.

“In designing live performances and installation, I always aim to create a significant asymmetry between LOREM and the crowd. I want those who listen and observe to be overwhelmed with stimuli, to force them into an experience that allows for only one possible point of view.”

The work of artists like Kurt Hentschläger or, in some way, Sunn O))), is an example of what I mean, I believe. At the same time, I enjoy embedding hidden references, “encrypted” messages, and correlations, to open questions and reflections through ambiguity. This approach can lead to profoundly deep interactions post-experience. Occasionally, an audience member may approach after a show to inquire about an insight they had or to propose new interpretations. For instance, I once spent an entire evening discussing the script of Distrust Everything with a scenographer who had come to see the work, and with whom I have stayed in contact ever since. Those moments are particularly rewarding, as they allow me to connect deeply with people…

Since we’re discussing languages and interactions, I’d like to make a digression. I began this interview by mentioning the early 2010s: a time of peak music media and blogging. I recall reading Deer Waves (shout-out to Italian hipsters worldwide), Pitchfork, and all the usual suspects. Your work is deeply intertwined with technology and the nature of media(s) itself, with music being one of its key components. I’m curious if you’ve ever considered how platforms and the circulation of music actually influence the composition of music itself. Think about “MySpace Bands,” or SALEM and the emergence of Witch House with its Web aesthetics. We’ve witnessed the era of SoundCloud rap, which is self-explanatory, and nowadays, and nowadays TikTok is shaping how mainstream labels function and the pop songs structures. I’d be really curious to pick your brain on this particular matter.

Distribution platforms and modes of consumption undoubtedly play a crucial role in shaping our aesthetic experiences, and they certainly influence artistic languages, probably as they always have. As I mentioned, the experience of the pandemic and the subsequent changes in consumption habits heavily interfered with the evolution of the project. I doubt I would have moved so close to the narrative dimension if we hadn’t all been in lockdown for months.

That being said, I’m uncertain about the direction that the music industry will head in the coming years. Frankly, it looks like a colossal mess… There are numerous factors at play in regards to that: the need for fairer and more inclusive distribution systems, the emergence of new technologies based on decentralization, the critical role of algorithms in shaping musical trends, and the emergence of “instant” platforms like TikTok, as you mentioned, among others.

Speaking of the evolution of media, I recently read about “neural media,” which K Allado-McDowell has theorized as developing out of network media in the mid-2010s amid increasing human-AI interaction. K’s description of neural media’s mechanics posits the concept that our ideas of individuality and identity formation, as well as what itmeans to communicate as a human (among other living beings), are about to be majorly recalibrated. What role do you think audiovisual expression, a language that is already forward-oriented and one you have been experimenting with for years now, plays in such futurable socio-cultural landscapes?

I can’t give you a general answer. What I try to do and what I recognize in the artists that I admire, is an attempt to produce aesthetic experiences that have a strong emotional impact while simultaneously “showing the scars”, so to speak. Their works create a space of ambiguity useful for recognizing the artifice, and without hiding it. This way, to use a phrase by Hal Foster, “…artifice, the Utopian glimmer of fiction, can be placed in the service of the real.”

Why did you choose SEAGULL as one of the two singles anticipating the full-release? What drove you towards the concept of flocks and shared-perception, and how does it relate to the record’s structural narrative?

I began working on the video with Karol Sudolski, a friend and collaborator on the LOREM project from early on in the creation of the Album. Karol is one of the people who inspire me to think of LOREM as a hybrid identity, which sometimes speaks in my voice but other times expresses itself as a collective, a chorus. We simply felt that the track was perfect for the flow of the video, which features a single continuous shot within this swamp of organic and inorganic forms.

Are you thinking of other outlets for the Time Coils narration to be experienced? Something transmedial like what you did for Adversarial Feelings, out on the publishing house you co-run, Krisis.

The first is a large-scale AV installation, ARC, which features a walkable dual-channel large LED wall that displays visualizations of contradictory states of consciousness. I created it with Visioni Parallele, and it will debut on Saturday (April 13th) at the Mattatoio in Rome. The work is based on the idea of intertextuality that I mentioned earlier… here, the question might be, for example: what a morph between excitement and boredom might look like? Perhaps something akin to me scrolling through Instagram on the toilet.


In early May at L.E.V. Festival in Gijon, there will be a new iteration of the Distrust Everything project; an immersive chamber that narrates a speculative dream emerging from Mirek Hardiker’s Dream Report Archive. These projects are in dialogue with the album, in a vague way, because they share the same approach, but they are also related to it as I continue to reuse the same datasets, which keep expanding.

What is Krisis role in the economy of your varied and intersectional practice? Is that a place where you focus more on curating others? Taking a step back from “your” own work and constructing bridges for others?

We founded Krisis Publishing in 2009, and I manage the editorial direction of the project alongside my friend and fellow researcher, Andrea Facchetti. The main focus of our project has always been and remains the politics of representation: we are interested in examining, through various lenses, the impact of media cultures on contemporary societies.

Both of us have academic backgrounds in philosophy and design/arts, which makes Krisis the platform to formalize and disseminate both our research and the works of pivotal authors. We typically handle the editing of the books we publish ourselves, and this has enabled us to connect with artists, theorists, and researchers we respect and admire. Among the notable authors we have published are James Ballard, Timothy Morton, Simon Reynolds, Kate Crawford, Hal Foster, Vladan Joler, Sofia Crespo, and also friends like Silvio Lorusso, Luca Pagan, Filippo Minelli, Corinne Mazzoli, Ryts Monet (just yesterday we launched the pre-order for the book we developed with him).

In recent years, we have begun to move beyond the borders of printed paper. Krisis functions not only as an independent publisher but also as a curatorial platform, producing audiovisual projects, music albums, events, installations, exhibitions, public talks, etc.

Certainly, there are parallels between my research, that of Andrea’s, and the editorial line of Krisis. In recent years, we have intensely explored the theme of the relationship between language, reality, and identity, the political implications of AI’s emergence, and the articulation of ecological perspectives. In a way, Krisis serves to me both as a source of input for LOREM and an opportunity to translate into theoretical language the issues that concern the project.

Last but not least..Nomen Omen. Why LOREM? A nod to unfinished but in-itinere linguistic forms?

Lorem is a model for extracting correlations within corpora of unstructured texts.
When I started working with texts and machine learning to enhance the emergence of intertextual correlations, I began by removing all character names from the literary texts in the datasets. I wanted the machine to confuse the characters, thereby overlapping the information pertaining to each. I have now started to group different types of characters using different letters (L, M, D, etc.), but initially, all characters in my datasets were named LOREM. When it came time to name the project, all these LOREM’s were already there…

Interview · Andrea Bratta
Photography · Omar Golli (ARC Installation)
Time Coils out on 26.04.24 via Krisis Publishing Pre-order the album here.
Follow LOREM on Instagram and Soundcloud
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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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Menno Aden

Posted on by nr

NR · World
Published · Online

Portfolio Focus · Menno Aden

In order of appearance

  1. Menno Aden, Untitled (Classroom), 2010
  2. Menno Aden, Untitled (Car), 2008
  3. Menno Aden, Untitled (Car III), 2018
  4. Menno Aden, Untitled, 2008
  5. Menno Aden, Untitled, 2010
  6. Menno Aden, Untitled (Box I), 2011
  7. Menno Aden, Untitled (Box VI), 2011
  8. Menno Aden, Untitled (Basement III), 2011
  9. Menno Aden, Untitled (Basement V), 2011
  10. Menno Aden, Untitled (Lift-III), 2011
  11. Menno Aden, Untitled (Lift V), 2017

Credits

All artworks courtesy of Menno Aden

Menno Aden (b. 1972) studied Art and Composition at Bremen University and University of the Arts Bremen in 2000. Aden lives and works in Berlin. 

Exhibitions include Museu Serralves, Deutsches Architektur Museum, Landesmuseum Emden, Kunsthaus Potsdam, The Wandsworth Museum, London, CMU Museum, Chiang Mai, Thailand, Dezer Schauhalle, Miami, Ratchadamnoen Contemporary Art Center, Bangkok, Institut Francais, Yangon, Myanmar, among others. 

Aden was awarded the German Prize for Science Photography, The International Photography Awards, The Accademia Apulia UK Photography Award, The European Award of Architectural Photography, among others. 

His work has been featured in The Guardian, Le Monde Diplomatique, Philosophie Magazine France, Der Tagesspiegel, Washington Post, Financial Times Internazionale, Dezeen, Nowness, Ignant, Deutsche Welle TV, among others. 

His work has been published in several books e.g. Berlin Raum Radar – New Architekture Photography (Hatje Cantz, 2016), European Month of Photography (Catalogue, 2016), Khao Ta Looh (KMITL Fine Art, Bangkok 2018), among others. 

Aden is represented in private collections in USA, Europe, and Asia, including Novartis Collection Basel, KPMG Collection London, Sanovis Collection Munich, Lisser Art Museum, among other national and international private collections. 


Violent Magic Orchestra

Posted on by nr

NR Video Premiere · WARP
Artists · VMO

Directed by · Rafael Bicalho
Release Date · 13.03.24

WARP

NR presents Soundsights, Track Etymology’s sister column: An inquiry into the convergence between sound, its visual expressions, investigating music’s intrinsically visual narrative quality.

Hello guys, thank you for being here, it must be pretty late now in Japan. How are you feeling about the upcoming release? It is your first LP since 2016! It’s been quite a journey! Global tours, several collaborations, a lot of experimentation. There is this restless component to your work, always evolving and shifting both sonically and conceptually. Is this record your way of crystallizing what you’ve been up to these last 8 years? What made you finally settle down?

Our music has always flirted with genre-bending, but for this record in particular, we aimed to incorporate various genres into our sound more than ever. Perhaps what has changed the most is that this time, we aimed to capture what we think is the essence of our live shows, rather than focusing on a specific sound, having toured a lot since the release of our previous album —Our main inspiration for this record stems from physicality and the ways our audience interacts in a live setting with our sound. Of course, Techno and Black Metal are still our two sonic compasses, but this time we drew from a wider plethora of music genres like hardcore, noise, and industrial. It is also the first record where we have a female lead vocalist, Zastar, the last member to join us!

The experiential referentiality of your music is definitely felt in the new record, and its presence makes even more sense considering that you describe yourselves as a performance art collective. I was listening to Warp while watching the visuals Rafael Bicalho created for it, and I almost felt like I was in a 3.0 musical drama. There is a sort of lingering quality to it, those almost fading vocals mixed with the track’s physicality and the alternating moments of calm and soaring. It was as if I was listening to source music for a film. What was the concept behind it? Is it one act of a longer narrative that continues throughout the whole record?

Self-consciousness is definitely a recurrent theme throughout the record, at least in its narrative aspects. In “Warp,” we depicted Zastar swimming in an abstract, undefined space, searching for objects to anchor her sense of reality and body. The goal we had in mind was to convey the feeling of a mind and body that had been separated and are now attempting to reunite in a quest to reinstate a feeling of individual wholeness. Rafael is one of the many visual artists we collaborate with; it is very important to us working with these incredible artists who help us give a visual body to our ideas.

I am very curious about the artistic direction of the release. There is an incredible emphasis on the aesthetic component of all your projects, your live gigs, the way you communicate online —All these visual elements seem to form a unicum with your sound, and, as you said, you collaborate a lot in order to achieve it. What fuels this curatorial approach that you have?

We always check Instagram! Scrolling, exploring all the time. We usually brainstorm a lot so that very precise images of what we want form in our minds. Those will then inform our research, and down the rabbit hole we go. The same thing applies to our collaboration with other musicians; we want to keep aesthetics and sonics parallel, informed by the same general idea.

You describe VMO as a multimedia performance art project. How do you approach creation? Does music come first or Is it about feeling and aesthetic rather than songwriting?

We operate precisely as an art collective, only our media is primarily music, trying to aggregate conceptual structures to sonic palettes. Visual and music, concepts and sounds. Everything usually starts with a visual idea of what we want to portray, and then from there, we work it into a sound and choose the people to work with on that overarching concept, musically and visually.

Interesting. Considering the multitude of influences you have and the collaborative nature of VMO, how do you function as a collective?

We work, well..collectively! [they laugh.] We usually gather inspiration from a variety of sources, books, poetry, films, music, nature..anything really. K, who functions as a sort of “chief curator” explains his influences and what he wants to do to all of us and then we work together to achieve the final result we want to go for.

You mentioned movies, literature, poetry. What were some of the extra-musical references for this particular record? 

Each of us has his own individual inspiration, of course; we have a lot of different interests and media, drawing from various inspirations that manifest in our work. There are numerous histories occurring around the world all the time. For instance, Black Metal is influenced by Christianity, Afrofuturism is deeply ingrained in Detroit Techno —Different histories influence each other and are simultaneously distant yet close. Cross-pollination might very well be another of the main themes of the record. Think of “Stranger Things’ ‘; An incredibly pop show presenting a clear 80s aura, but mixing it with horror tropes in a quotational yet twisted manner.

There’s an almost reassembled-collage quality to how you operate, exploring sonic dichotomies, musical and visual tropes, featuring elements  that are at the same time disorienting but familiar —Yours is an almost unheimlich sound. How do you manage to keep all these different inputs together in a coherent result?

In a sense, it’s almost complete experimentation, and there’s a lot of trial and error. We take the time that we need to create something we believe its worthwhile, mixing focused work and abstraction. We try to convey abstract idea in precise sonic and visual coordinates, mixing the two up from time to time.

Another very important element in your work is saturation, both musically and visually. Your music challenges the listener, and I mean this in the best possible way. What made you gravitate towards such a confrontational sound?

We always were drawn to the physicality of certain music genres. Metal, gabber, techno: It’s kind of a natural thing for us to seek abstract ideas expressed through “violent” music. It is what we have always liked as listeners and artists. 

Before we say goodbye, I wanted to ask: What’s a VMO live experience? Prepare us for the upcoming world tour!

We aim to create an environment that everyone can enjoy, almost like a theme park. However, we also improvise a lot, as every crowd is different and reacts differently, and we always try to go with the flow. It’s curious that we have this very, at times, complicated sound. However, what we want is to present and offer our performances to audiences in the most accommodating way possible. We aim to provide people with the easiest way possible for them to enjoy the experience itself.

Interview · Andrea Bratta
Photography (in order of appearance) · Genki Arata and Tatsuya Higuchi
Follow VMO on Instagram and Spotify
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