Voices #49
◦ “voices” is the place where we ask, artists reply and you read.
here we got:
subespai
answering some questions. We have already observed his experimental / drone / noise / field recordings work here.
[1. IDEA]
■ The A. O.: Can you tell us how the track “St. Lawrence” came to light?
► subespai: After nine years living in Australia, my family and I relocated back to Spain. That transition was intense and all-consuming, and for a while I completely stopped making music. I only returned to it once we had settled in our current hometown, Alaior, in the Balearic Islands.
Spain has a strong tradition of music tied to place and ritual, and Alaior is no exception. In the summer of 2024, my wife recorded a short snippet of the traditional tune that opens the festivities of Saint Lawrence, the town’s patron saint. When I listened to it, it stayed with me. It felt unresolved, almost insistent, like the beginning of something. I started working with the recording in my usual way: manipulating it, layering it, letting it drift away from its original function and turn into a journey of its own.
At the time I was also developing a live set that never quite came together. I was stuck with it, hitting a wall creatively. “St. Lawrence” completely took over that process, although some of the DNA of that abandoned live set remained. The result was an almost 30-minute piece. Longform works are natural territory for me. They allow time for things to breathe, for slow transformations to happen. In a way, they are also a quiet statement against the speed and constant dopamine-chasing that dominates how we consume culture today.
Once the piece was composed and rehearsed, I recorded it properly at Es Molí Estudis, a local studio run by a friend from town. After that, I pitched the idea to Mike from Oxtail Recordings: a two-track cassette release, with another longform piece on the B-side. Mike immediately connected with the idea, for which I am deeply grateful, and that’s how Saints came into existence.
[2. CREATION]
■ The A. O.: How do you usually approach composition? Do you start with a concept, a sound, a state of mind or what else? How do you generally proceed from the initial seed to the complete work?
► subespai: Every track I make is a snapshot of my inner state at a specific moment. Music is how I communicate from a place that is difficult to access through words, so whatever is happening in my life tends to surface in the work, whether I plan it or not.
When I’m working on a solo album, though, I usually choose a broader concept to give the record cohesion. My previous album, The Present Time, revolved around mental health. Saints is about returning to Spain and dealing with reverse culture shock. Often there is also a sonic anchor. In Saints, recordings of traditional Menorcan festivity tunes act as the foundation for each track.
From the initial seed to the finished piece, the process is mostly about persistence. I return to the same idea day after day, testing it, reshaping it, sometimes undoing work rather than adding to it. It feels a lot like puzzle-making. Some days pieces click into place, other days they don’t.
I’m very emotion-driven. If something doesn’t resonate internally, it gets discarded. At the same time, I’ve been trying to be more output-driven in recent years, pushing myself to finish works even if I’m unsure about them. Some of those pieces may never be released, and that’s fine. Finishing them still clears mental space and leaves me with new tools and insights for the next work.
[3. FEEDBACK]
■ The A. O.: What do you hope listeners feel or experience when engaging with your music?
► subespai: One of the real pandemics of the 21st century, in my view, is emotional numbness. We move through life on autopilot, constantly chasing the next small hit of stimulation, until even intense experiences feel flattened.
I make music to reconnect with myself, to feel something real and unfiltered. Occasionally, while working on a piece, I get goosebumps. That’s a clear signal for me that I’m touching something honest.
Ideally, I would like listeners to feel something authentic as well. Not a specific emotion, but a sense of depth. A pause. A moment of connection with themselves. If the music invites them out of the mundane and into something more reflective or existential, even briefly, then it has done its job.
[4. IDENTITY]
■ The A. O.: In a world saturated with digital music content, how do you try to keep your sound distinct and personally meaningful?
► subespai: My main filter is internal. If something doesn’t click on a deep level, it doesn’t get released. That’s how I keep the work meaningful to me.
As for sounding distinct, I don’t actively chase that. I’m not convinced it’s useful to aim for uniqueness for its own sake. I think it’s more important to sound genuine. If you are truly honest in your work, it will be distinct by default, even if it shares DNA with other artists you admire.
I probably sound like many other experimental musicians, and I’m at peace with that. What makes the music mine is not novelty, but intention and sincerity. No one else has my exact combination of experiences, doubts, and obsessions, and that inevitably seeps into the sound.
[5. INFLUENCES]
■ The A. O.: Mention 3 albums that you consider relevant to your musical path and why.
► subespai: ○ William Basinski – The Disintegration Loops
An obvious choice, but a fundamental one. This album opened up an entire way of thinking for me: repetition as structure, longform composition as a space for meaning, decay as something beautiful rather than tragic. I clearly remember thinking, “So this is allowed.” I still return to it when I need focus or grounding.
○ Machinefabriek – Dauw
Machinefabriek’s work has been hugely influential for me, although it didn’t click immediately. It took time. Dauw was the first record of his that I owned, and it set the tone. Tracks like “Porselein” and “Singel” played a big role in shaping my desire to make music under the name Subespai. That sense of fragility, restraint, and precision is something I still gravitate toward.
○ Svarte Greiner – Knive
I’m a big fan of psychological horror, and this record was a revelation. It showed me that you can strip horror of its visual component and let it exist purely in sound. Dark, uneasy textures evolving on their own, without narrative or imagery to lean on. Knive, and Svarte Greiner’s work in general, gave me permission to explore darker sonic territory with confidence.
[6. REGARDS]
■ The A. O.: Leave us with a quote you love.
► subespai: I don’t really have a favorite quote, but recently a friend told me that “life favours those who act” while we were talking about a professional crossroads I’m facing. It stuck with me. A good reminder that overthinking can become a form of paralysis, and that sometimes the most important thing is simply to try, act, and see what happens.