LUCRECIA DALT dove into music full–time after working as a civil engineer in Colombia. Her pursuit of avant–garde sound brought her to Spain and then to Germany, where she currently resides. While highly technical, Dalt has always balanced the sharp mind of a methodical thinker with the restless heart of a passionate artist, gradually seeking a way to create hand–crafted mental states through sound, maintaining a quantity of emotionality, merging accessible, melody with abstract structures, handcrafted effects and sampling. Her recent work develops around the ideas of repositioning fiction, time perception, scale, telluric affect, repetition, vocoding and sound dynamics.
With her surrealist experimentations, Colombian musician Lucrecia Dalt draws from a vast wealth of artistic and philosophical influences: From New German Cinema and artificial intelligence to the politics of listening and technological ideas of the future.
Over the years, Dalt has collaborated with Berlin’s F.S. Blumm, Barbara Morgenstern, Gudrun Gut, L.A.-based musician Julia Holter and most recently with the group comprised of Rashad Becker, Charlotte Collin, Lucrecia Dalt, Laurel Halo, Julia Holter, Kohei Matsunaga (a.k.a. NHK’Koyxen), and Grégoire Simon for a telepathic collaboration.
After several underground releases, in 2012 Dalt debuted her first LP, Commotus, on Berlin-based Human Ear Music, a label known for backing genre-bending experimentalists Ariel Pink, Nite Jewel, Julia Holter – the title of the album fittingly translates to „woken“, „agitated“ or „disturbed“, reflecting the music’s ability to seamlessly, almost-cinematically shift in mood, from minimal and ethereal to multi- layered and wild. Dalt stuck with the label for 2013’s Syzygy, a record that dwells in melancholy, assaulting listeners with unfamiliar electronics. Rhythms hammer into the slabs of sound with precision, sequenced tones aggressively stamp indentations into the stiff frame.
In 2014 she releases the self-titled EP on Nicolas Jaar imprint „Other People“, following and expanding upon the line of thought put forward in her 2013 album Syzygy, Lucrecia Dalt ends in a place familiar, yet noticeably different. Its two tracks, ‚Esotro‘ and ‚Veta‘, continually defy expectation — haunting vocal ballads that trickle into clouds of white noise — but for an acquainted listener that won’t surprise.
In 2015 Lucrecia releases her LP „OU“ on the Berlin-based label Care of Editions as part of a scholarship granted by Music Board Berlin. This LP is the result of working in music which engages the history of modern filmmaking in Germany and build upon an ongoing technique used in her work, which is to provoke some entanglement between the emotional dynamic experienced during the viewing of a film, and what is experienced during the music production process.
Lucrecia Dalt’s concern with boundaries and edges shape the lyrics and music of Anticlines, her sixth album. Paying careful attention to pace, breath, and texture, Dalt microtonally shifts the distance between speech and song while using traditional South American rhythms to support her contemporary electronic composition.
Lucrecia arrived at the atmosphere of Anticlines after several months of studying and creating new patches for the Clavia Nord Modular, forming a rhythmic feedback flow with it, a Moogerfooger MuRF, and her voice. The overall effect of cavernous space backdroping Dalt’s intimate vocal phrasing rewards contemplation, supported in the physical formats of Anticlines by a lyric booklet documenting Lucrecia’s collaboration with Australian artist Henry Andersen.
The album opens with “Edge,” bordering on a pathological circlusion of self upon other. The lyrics depart from the Colombian myth of El Boraro, an Amazonian monster who turns its victims insides to pulp before sucking them dry and inflating their bodies like balloons to lifelessly float away. “Tar” ponders human dependence on earth at the boundary of the heliopause, where to inhale might be like breathing tar. Dalt’s distant and obscured vocals end with, “we touched only as atmospheres touch.” The sonic rise and fall of “Analogue Mountains” is inspired by martian traces found in Antarctica embedded by meteorite ALH84001, suggesting that “we might well be living in mountains transferred from Mars.” The steadily winding music on “Concentric Nothings” descends with the lyrical exercise of dissolution “let my touch be indistinct and instinctive.” Interspersed with the lyrical pieces of Anticlines are instrumental interstitials that demonstrate preceding concepts — as if to say, “this is what antiforms sound like, and this is what the universe’s indifference sounds like.” Dalt’s ongoing experiments with visual artist Regina de Miguel support these ideas, their practice allowing the objects of their attention to slip in and out of being.
Her slippery spoken word and performative nature is recalling the work of Laurie Anderson, Robert Ashley, Asmus Tietchens, or Lena Platonos. While touching stones, The Thing by Dylan Trigg, Cascade Experiment by Alice Fulton, and Wretched of the Screen by Hito Steyerl are but a few formative scripts that support Dalt’s exploration of the betwixt and between.