Argentine multi-instrumentalist and composer Alma Laprida’s new album, Pitch Dark and Trembling, has an almost tangible gravity to it. Tones blossom into howling, gnawing resonances that make time stand still, holding us in uncomfortable moments until we’re totally immersed in this massive soundworld. Laprida’s work has always had this tactile quality, material sonic textures that spark an emotional response and imaginative ideas. Her compositional approach in tandem with a particular palette of instrumentation gives her work a unique and recognizable sound and feel. Pitch Dark and Trembling is the loudest declaration of that so far.
Pitch Dark and Trembling is out now on Outside Time. She can be found via her website HERE and Instagram HERE.
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As always, I like to start at the beginning. What are some of your earliest memories related to music and sound? Was there a lot of music around when you were growing up?
There was a lot of music in my childhood, so here’s a quick list of memories:
Listening to vinyl while making pizza dough from scratch with my dad. Checking the images of mfrommom’s books about hearing (she’s a hearing specialist) and watching her build a 3D model of the ear. Improvising on a Casiotone in the car while traveling with my family to visit grandma. Inventing a musical notation for songs we wrote with my friends. Writing and recording radio plays and their sound effects with my brother on a cassette recorder. Selecting the music for a radio program (in a real radio station) my best friend and I had when we were 10, and then getting to the studio and listening to our voices through the headphones in that acoustically treated space. Listening to the silence as a very high-pitched sound at siesta time sitting by the window of my house, in an unpaved street in Muñiz, Buenos Aires Province.
When did you start playing an instrument? Was there a particular impetus you remember?
I was always playing or trying to play an instrument. I sang a lot, too, and was a singer in many high school bands. I taught myself to read music in elementary school, studied guitar with a teacher for a year and a half, and then entered a music school for piano. I was very enthusiastic about learning and would study as much as I could. Many late nights…
What, eventually, drew you to the tromba marina (and other non-conventional instruments), and how did you begin exploring these instruments’ possibilities?
While I was in music school, I met José Mouzzaffar, who played in a medieval music ensemble. Shortly after, I auditioned as a singer and started playing with them. We played with replicas of ancient instruments. At first, I just sang and played some guitars, but one day, José brought some instruments he got from a musician he knew who decided not to play medieval music anymore. One of those instruments was a two-stringed tromba marina, and he eventually convinced me to play it. The funny story was that I did not want to play the instrument at first and it took me months to finally accept it.
How does your experience in the avant-garde/experimental scene of Buenos Aires influence your current work in Washington, DC? Have you noticed any shifts in your approach since relocating?
I was very active for about 10 years in Buenos Aires before moving to the DC area. There, I participated in several scenes and was able to explore a lot. I played in an improviser’s orchestra, learned how to make DIY synths, collaborated with visual artists, dancers, art historians, writers, and philosophers, did sound installations, organized a concert series, opened a sound art radio, and even worked as a curator. From a distance, Buenos Aires seems to me like a sort of playground.
After my first concert in DC in 2021, I immediately noticed that the vibes and possibilities in the area were different and that I’d have to adapt. I was happily surprised by the vitality and experimentation in the improvising scene and I decided that I wanted that vitality to transverse me and change me. I had also sold all of my synths and electronics and decided to move to the US with just my tromba marina and some pedals. Which was a surprise even for me because I did not play the instrument a lot in Buenos Aires. So I started working in a solo improvised set with it, something I hadn’t made in years.
Your new album, Pitch Dark and Trembling, was recorded live and explores low frequencies and vibrational phenomena. Can you talk about how this performance marked a pivotal moment in your creative journey?
This concert was certainly different to what I generally play. It was amazing to me to be able to experiment with this big subwoofer. But the most important for me is that I could materialize in a performance what I think about sound. Acoustics and psychoacoustics are definitely interesting to me and are important in a project like this but there was also the fact that my body (and the bodies of the people in the audience) would resonate and vibrate. In certain moments in the performance, the room would resonate too -you can kind of hear that in the album. So your own body coming for moments to the foreground, sound touching a number of people at the same time -that was the most compelling to me.
The earthquake experience in Bolivia clearly had a profound impact on you and your creative practice. How did you translate that fear and trauma into your music? And is music, or more generally ‘creation,’ a space for you to explore trauma?
Every day I am amazed at how very small things can bring back vivid memories. Some months before this performance I found out that I could “immerse” myself in memories and feel the emotions I felt back then. So, I was practicing that as a way to release unprocessed emotions.
As soon as I started working with low frequencies, I was transported back to this earthquake experience. I had already processed the trauma associated with that moment years ago. As I focused on the concert’s production details and on rehearsals and on the form of the concert I completely stopped thinking about the earthquake, but when I heard feedback from the people who attended and they talked about fear, about the ominous, about the sublime, and I noticed that those memories had embodied themselves in the performance. I was very surprised by how other people perceived the piece and how that relates to my own memories of the earthquake.
You incorporate unconventional sound sources, such as exciters from deconstructed speakers placed in objects. What role do these physical materials play in shaping the texture and feeling of your performances?
I’ve always played with whatever I had by hand. I took classes on DIY electronics and for some time I carried a screwdriver in my purse to check any electronic trash I found in the street searching for usable components. Objects have always been there for me as sound sources for many of my live performances. I’ve played with rocks, tin cans, wire, glass, etc. numerous times.
How do you navigate the balance between discomfort and curiosity in your music?
This is a very interesting question. I think they might be there in different moments. Curiosity is a spark for doing something, discomfort comes later in the creative process. In my case, the challenge that comes with discomfort is that it may sometimes “block” me. I have different strategies to overcome it: take breaks, talk to friends, stimulate other senses (for instance, smelling a perfume).
Your use of a subwoofer in live performances has added an element of unpredictability to your sound. How do you manage the interaction between the tromba marina and the subwoofer’s low frequencies?
The interaction between the tromba marina and the subwoofer happens in relation to a third essential element: space.
For the concert documented on the cassette, I was able to work in a room with high ceilings with walls covered by a very absorbent material. I used a pitch shifter to bring the instrument to very low frequencies. And my rehearsals for the concerts were just about playing and exploring with those low frequencies and new timbres. Next November 15th, for the presentation of the album at Tonal Park, I’m going to play in a different room and with a different speaker. It could sound very different!
Can you talk a little bit about your recent time at Bard and how being in their music program pushed you and your work into new ideas and territories?
The Bard MFA is a great environment to experiment. You are surrounded by artists of various disciplines who are talking about art and the creative process all day. You have access to equipment, workshops, spaces, and technicians and get constant valuable feedback from faculty and students. It’s the perfect situation to push yourself into anything you couldn’t do on your own and to get out of your comfort zone. It is a very intense program, very stimulating but also extremely tiring.
This last summer I worked in the woodshop and metal shop and made three more trumpet marines. One of them is electric and another one is literally made of metal. I was even able to put together a trio of these new trumpet marines and now I need to find a little time to work with the recordings we did. My intention is to have an ensemble in DC. We’ll see what happens.
To close, what are your favorite sounds in the world?
As I wrote some years ago: the ones I haven’t heard yet.
Foxy Digitalis depends on our awesome readers to keep things rolling. Pledge your support today via our Patreon or subscribe to The Jewel Garden. You can also make a one-time donation via Ko-fi.
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