today’s approach to experimental music. Much of what is labeled as “experimental” now feels superficial to me—often just minimal gestures or repeated chords presented as innovation. The ease of access to digital tools has led many to adopt this label without a deep connection to the compositional craft, which creates a lot of confusion around what true experimentation means. With Secessioni, I wanted to take a different direction and return to a more serious exploration of composition, particularly through notation, which today is often neglected. But the detachment I was interested in also concerned the past. I wanted to free these compositional techniques from the rigid categories they were once confined to in the 20th century, where each approach had to belong to a specific genre or school. In Secessioni, those previously compartmentalized techniques coexist within a single composition. Another key experiment was in how I assigned roles to instruments. Contrary to tradition, both past and present, I gave the experimental notation to the acoustic instruments, while the electronic ones supported the harmonic and tonal foundation of the piece. There were many layers of experimentation and deliberate breaks from convention in that work. It took me a year and a half to compose that album, and every decision was made to challenge assumptions, both old and new.

Even your third record, Music for Dimensions, set to be released in September, features soundscapes rich in contrast, seemingly driven by a continuous sense of tension. In your latest opus, how does your concrete music navigate between the opposing poles of past and present?

In this album, the approach was radically different. I focused less on compositional technique and more on experimentation and sound manipulation. I worked extensively with concrete sounds, particularly recordings of objects and voices, treating them as raw material and shaping them using both analog and digital techniques to expand their timbral possibilities. These concrete elements were deliberately placed alongside abstract soundscapes that feel alien and sonically unplaceable, impossible to imagine occurring in nature. The contrast between the two creates a dynamic interplay between reality and imagination, presence and illusion. In Music for Dimensions, I wanted to explore how these opposing sonic worlds could not only coexist but enhance each other, producing a layered and immersive experience. The emphasis here is on texture, space, and perception, less about narrative progression, and more about the physical and emotional sensation of sound itself.

With their silver polished surfaces, the two limited-edition formats of Music for Dimensions reflect the material presence of the acousmonium. While you’ve captured its physicality in such objects, how did you preserve the spatial layering and the concrete textures of your music, in the digital sound of streaming platforms?

For a special version to be released digitally, the album will also be released in binaural format, allowing listeners to experience something much closer to a live spatialization simply by using headphones. Binaural audio simulates 360-degree spatialization, recreating a sense of depth and direction that mirrors the immersive qualities of the live setup. It’s a way to preserve not just the music itself, but its spatial life and physical dimension, even in the context of digital streaming.

Compared to your previous work, this release reveals an even more mystical attitude, particularly through the use of vocalisations, which creates a striking contrast with the abstract timbres and unconventional harmonies. Which is the urgency behind this unexpected direction?

Great question. I have always found experimental compositions using the human voice to be incredibly compelling and evocative. The voice is unique because it reaches the listener more immediately, after all, it is an instrument we all carry within us and experience daily, unlike any other musical instrument. Incorporating the voice into my work was a way to introduce that familiar, emotional element to balance the stark and often challenging nature of my compositions. This contrast, I imagined, would create a more direct and intimate dialogue with the audience, making the listening experience both more immediate and profound. Furthermore, in my opinion, the voice also helps give a sense of form and entity to the sound that moves through space during my live performances. With the voice, listeners imagine more quickly the sound as a finite, living presence.