urika’s bedroom

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.