"How does one start a new record? In the nighttime or during the day? In a dimly lit room or with the sunlight bursting through the windows? Do we start on empty stomachs or do we avoid eating meat while a group of 12 songs are sent to the mastering studio? Does it make sense to cater to the esoteric side of things by burning incense to ward off bad spirits, all dressed in white to attract positive energies? Or do we open up the closet where we keep our fears and hesitations? All things considered, this is music that we’re talking about and no one creates exclusively for themselves. There’s a whole village – granted, an invisible one – which is present in the room. We feel it breathing, on the the back of our necks, when we choose the right chords for the magical chorus that will make it scream and shout for yet another encore. Do records only start when one feels inspired or can we beg our muse to be generous and bless this session? We know muses to be whimsical, demanding gifts, sacrifices and mystical rituals, which could involve walking barefoot on the shore under a full moon and so on. Other can be indifferent to such practices and would rather be invoked through a bottle of whisky. Our first day in the studio was as unremarkable as a call-center operator’s. We landed in London the night before, tired after three days of concerts in Beja, Famalicão and Dubai. The morning after wasn’t very taxing but we were all still in a slow motion mode, which led us to arrive 60 minutes late to the studio. Very unorthodox even for us, Southern Europeans. We powered up the computers and started listening to some drafts that could eventually become songs. In this first phase we call these drafts loops, beats, mambos (Angolan slang for ‘stuff’)… some are good, some are rotten, as Conductor likes to put it. We keep the good ones in a folder to which we gave the very non-poetic name of ‘BSS Red Bull Studio’, and from this first batch we chose two beats to have fun with in the next few hours. This process isn’t really extraordinary: it’s just a mix between the search for the perfect song and the need to keep surprising ourselves as musicians."
sexta-feira, 3 de maio de 2013
Buraka Som Sistema trabalham em novo álbum
Os Buraka Som Sistema começarama gravar o sucessor de "Komba". De acordo com a Enchufada, a banda de Kalaf está em Londres no estúdio Red Bull. Na página da enchufada pôde ler-se um texto escrito por Kalaf:
"How does one start a new record? In the nighttime or during the day? In a dimly lit room or with the sunlight bursting through the windows? Do we start on empty stomachs or do we avoid eating meat while a group of 12 songs are sent to the mastering studio? Does it make sense to cater to the esoteric side of things by burning incense to ward off bad spirits, all dressed in white to attract positive energies? Or do we open up the closet where we keep our fears and hesitations? All things considered, this is music that we’re talking about and no one creates exclusively for themselves. There’s a whole village – granted, an invisible one – which is present in the room. We feel it breathing, on the the back of our necks, when we choose the right chords for the magical chorus that will make it scream and shout for yet another encore. Do records only start when one feels inspired or can we beg our muse to be generous and bless this session? We know muses to be whimsical, demanding gifts, sacrifices and mystical rituals, which could involve walking barefoot on the shore under a full moon and so on. Other can be indifferent to such practices and would rather be invoked through a bottle of whisky. Our first day in the studio was as unremarkable as a call-center operator’s. We landed in London the night before, tired after three days of concerts in Beja, Famalicão and Dubai. The morning after wasn’t very taxing but we were all still in a slow motion mode, which led us to arrive 60 minutes late to the studio. Very unorthodox even for us, Southern Europeans. We powered up the computers and started listening to some drafts that could eventually become songs. In this first phase we call these drafts loops, beats, mambos (Angolan slang for ‘stuff’)… some are good, some are rotten, as Conductor likes to put it. We keep the good ones in a folder to which we gave the very non-poetic name of ‘BSS Red Bull Studio’, and from this first batch we chose two beats to have fun with in the next few hours. This process isn’t really extraordinary: it’s just a mix between the search for the perfect song and the need to keep surprising ourselves as musicians."
"How does one start a new record? In the nighttime or during the day? In a dimly lit room or with the sunlight bursting through the windows? Do we start on empty stomachs or do we avoid eating meat while a group of 12 songs are sent to the mastering studio? Does it make sense to cater to the esoteric side of things by burning incense to ward off bad spirits, all dressed in white to attract positive energies? Or do we open up the closet where we keep our fears and hesitations? All things considered, this is music that we’re talking about and no one creates exclusively for themselves. There’s a whole village – granted, an invisible one – which is present in the room. We feel it breathing, on the the back of our necks, when we choose the right chords for the magical chorus that will make it scream and shout for yet another encore. Do records only start when one feels inspired or can we beg our muse to be generous and bless this session? We know muses to be whimsical, demanding gifts, sacrifices and mystical rituals, which could involve walking barefoot on the shore under a full moon and so on. Other can be indifferent to such practices and would rather be invoked through a bottle of whisky. Our first day in the studio was as unremarkable as a call-center operator’s. We landed in London the night before, tired after three days of concerts in Beja, Famalicão and Dubai. The morning after wasn’t very taxing but we were all still in a slow motion mode, which led us to arrive 60 minutes late to the studio. Very unorthodox even for us, Southern Europeans. We powered up the computers and started listening to some drafts that could eventually become songs. In this first phase we call these drafts loops, beats, mambos (Angolan slang for ‘stuff’)… some are good, some are rotten, as Conductor likes to put it. We keep the good ones in a folder to which we gave the very non-poetic name of ‘BSS Red Bull Studio’, and from this first batch we chose two beats to have fun with in the next few hours. This process isn’t really extraordinary: it’s just a mix between the search for the perfect song and the need to keep surprising ourselves as musicians."
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