The keen reader might recall Egod Culmen from a feature we published back in April, praising ‘Notes & Destinies’ as “a triumph of neoclassical-coded piano tones and tender, hypnotic ambient textures”. We stand by our words; in fact, that’s the perfect description of the artistic avenue that the Spanish composer and performer likes to navigate. Packed with escapism and evocative charge, Culmen’s overall catalogue invites intimacy and reflection, sparking a moment of rest and comfort in an otherwise gloomy reality.
‘Awakening in Postiguet’ further advanced such narrative, resulting in an immersive, ethereal cut that blurs the line between memories and mirage, a fragment of intense nostalgia that leaves listeners fully absorbed into Egod’s nuanced piano playing and subtle textures. The track is part of ‘Summer Sketches Vol. 1’, a compilation released by AD21 Records, bringing together contemporary composers and artists through brief musical impressions of summer.
Intrigued by ‘Awakening in Postiguet’, we caught up with Culmen to learn more about his artistry and future goals… Interview below!
Hey Egod, thanks for chatting with us! We wrote about you back in April (on the occasion of ‘Notes & Destinies’), so it’s great to catch up again and delve deeper into the project. How have you been those last few months? Do you think music plays a role in making such a dark reality bearable?
Hi! Thank you so much again for having me. I’m really happy to be here answering these questions.
Last time we spoke, it was about Notes & Destinies, my first album, which was released in March and presented in Paris in April. I also had the chance to perform it in several venues in Madrid, so the last few months have been quite busy, but in a very positive way. It has been really special to bring such emotional material to the stage and experience that deep connection between myself, the piano and the audience.
Since then, I’ve also been composing a lot, finishing new songs and developing future projects that I’m very excited for people to hear. And because of all of this, I can definitely say that music helps make reality a little more bearable — the chaos, the stress, the everyday nervousness. I think life constantly takes energy from us in different ways, but it’s also up to us to find ways of restoring it. For me, music is probably the most powerful way to do that.
Your latest record has just been released, an emotionally charged piano-driven ambient piece that’s a joy to listen to. Featured in ‘Summer Sketches Vol. 1’ compilation by AD21, ‘Awakening in Postiguet’ was specifically inspired by Postiguet Beach in Alicante. I am intrigued to know why you liked the place so much; what’s so special about it?
There’s a very personal story behind it. When I was invited to be part of the Summer Sketches compilation, I was told that the idea was to create a collection of songs that could somehow evoke summer. That was actually quite challenging for me, because I naturally tend to write music that is more dramatic, dark, melancholic or bittersweet. So in a way, it became a small test for myself.
I tried to connect with summer through a genuinely happy memory. I have many of them, but I wanted to focus on the most recent one, and that’s when Postiguet Beach in Alicante came to mind.
About two and a half years ago, I left Argentina, my home country, and moved to Madrid with my wife. Those first months in Spain were quite difficult: trying to build a new everyday life, looking for work, dealing with immigration paperwork and adapting to a completely different routine. There was a lot of uncertainty.
Then, after months of that, we suddenly had two free days and decided to go to the beach in the cheapest and simplest way possible. We travelled to Alicante and arrived at Postiguet at around four in the morning. Watching the sunrise there felt like a real reset. It was almost like a little push from the universe, telling me that things could still be beautiful despite everything that was happening around us.
For many people, Postiguet may simply be a very central, ordinary city beach. But for me, that morning became something much more symbolic. Something changed in me there, and I think that is ultimately what I wanted to preserve in the piece.
It’s admirable how you are able to capture such an evocative mood in aural form. How do you translate the atmosphere and emotional memory of a place into contemporary piano and ambient music?
For me, it usually starts with an emotion and a sound at the same time. Then, if I close my eyes, an image begins to appear, and eventually it becomes almost physical – like being transported back to that place for a moment.
I’m not really trying to reproduce a landscape literally. It’s more intuitive than that. I usually start improvising at the piano, sometimes adding reverb or a synthesizer like a Minimoog, and little by little the landscape begins to form in my mind.
Harmony is probably the most important element for me. I really love working with unusual harmonies, augmented chords, silence and dynamics. That usually creates the emotional foundation, and then the melody comes afterwards.
At first, I work almost entirely by intuition. Later, once I feel that the idea is there, I start thinking more technically about musical resources and how to bring the piece to its final form.
With Awakening in Postiguet, I wanted to capture something between sunrise, nostalgia and the feeling of starting again — almost like a reset. But I don’t necessarily want the listener to see Postiguet itself. I prefer the music to become a space where each person can create their own image and connect it with their own memories.
Something that jumped out to me is the ingenious use of space and pauses… ‘Awakening in Postiguet’ is a record that moves and evolves slowly, yet with confidence and quiet restraint. There’s a touch of minimalism in it; is this something you had to reckon with in your music journey?
Yes, definitely. It’s something I’m very conscious of when I create a piece like this. To be honest, minimalism doesn’t always come naturally to me. I tend to enjoy harmony, movement and emotional density, so I constantly challenge myself to understand when the idea of “less is more” really needs to be applied.
I think silence is completely necessary. You don’t always need to be playing or filling every space. Sometimes the atmosphere, the distance between notes and the sense of openness are what allow the listener’s imagination to enter the piece.
That was especially important in Awakening in Postiguet. That morning, the sea was incredibly calm, and I kept imagining the gentle movement of the waves and the tide. I wanted the music to have that same kind of motion: slow, spacious and almost suspended, where something is always moving, but never in a rushed or aggressive way.
In that sense, learning to leave space has definitely become an important part of my musical journey.
Here’s a more technical question for all music enthusiasts out there: How do you create the subtle textures that lie under the tender piano part? They do share a certain white noise-esque quality that reminds me of actual sea waves.
For the lower textures, I used a Minimoog to create some of the pads, and I also worked with white noise processed through fairly large reverbs. That helped me create this soft, almost wave-like layer underneath the piano.
Something else I’ve started experimenting with, and really enjoy, is using a kind of sequencer or arpeggiator on very high piano notes, with a lot of reverb and delay. It becomes almost another atmospheric layer around the main piano rather than a separate melodic element.
That approach was definitely inspired in part by Ólafur Arnalds and the way he uses repetition, space and processed piano textures. But overall, the sound comes mostly from synthesizers and from my tendency to spend a lot of time playing with them, searching for small details and textures until something feels right.
Broadening the topic, how do you approach composition on a general level? Do you always start with a cluster of piano chords, and work from there? Do you look for a specific feeling when writing?
Yes, I almost always start by playing with harmony. I like unusual chords and finding different ways of connecting them, sometimes building harmonic cycles that feel strange but still evocative. From there, I try to understand where the piece wants to go emotionally. Most of the time, it ends up connecting with my own memories, emotions, uncertainties or whatever I’m experiencing in the present moment.
So composition becomes a kind of filter for me. It helps me process things, reorganise what I’m feeling and, in a way, reset my energy. The technical side of harmony is very important to me, but ultimately I need it to lead somewhere emotionally.
Many out there might be quick to dismiss piano ambient music as more of a cinematic background. To me, it carries a great potential for introspection and hypnotic abstraction… how should the listener approach ‘Awakening in Postiguet’ (and your wider discography, too)?
We live in a chaotic and noisy world, but also an incredibly beautiful one, full of experiences and feelings that are sometimes difficult to explain. I think this kind of music can offer something very simple but increasingly necessary: a moment of calm.
A pause can be very powerful. To breathe, to slow down for a few minutes in a world that constantly asks us to move faster, consume more and pay attention to everything at once. That is one of the things I value most about ambient and contemporary piano music.
I also believe we are going to need more spaces for this kind of experience in the future — intimate live performances, people gathered around someone playing a piano, sometimes without amplification or any unnecessary elements, simply sharing a moment of silence, inspiration and presence. To me, it can feel almost like reading a book: you temporarily step away from the noise outside and allow your imagination to become active again.
That is also how I would invite people to approach Awakening in Postiguet and my wider discography. Not necessarily as music that demands an explanation, but as a place you can enter for a few minutes. Each piece comes from something very personal in my life, but once it is released, I want it to belong to the listener too. If my music can give someone a moment to breathe, remember something, imagine something, or simply reconnect with themselves, then I think it has found its purpose.
Lastly, we should mention that you have an album on its way, ‘The Wait’, set for release on September 18th. What can we expect from it? Anything else on the horizon?
The Wait is a very special album for me. It was produced and mixed by Edoardo Gastaldi, who helped me enormously throughout the process, especially when it came to finding the right sounds and giving the whole record a very distinctive character. It will be released through Siril Records on September 18th.
Musically, I think people can expect something quite varied. There are pieces built around piano and orchestral arrangements, others that are much more immersed in synthesizers and electronic textures, and also moments where the strings take almost complete control, closer to the feeling of a small symphonic ensemble. Even though the instrumentation changes from track to track, the whole album is deeply interconnected, and I really wanted it to feel like one continuous emotional journey rather than just a collection of separate songs.
The album was born during a period in which I was forced to slow down and spend a lot of time waiting — waiting to recover, waiting for things to change, waiting to move forward. That idea gradually became the emotional centre of the record. So there are moments of uncertainty, tension and melancholy, but also a sense of movement, release and transformation.
Edoardo was incredibly important in helping me shape that world and take some of the ideas much further than I initially imagined. When the time comes, I’ll definitely send you the album so you can hear it in full — I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy it.
And beyond The Wait, I’m already writing and developing new material. I feel like this album opened a door to a wider sonic world for Egod Culmen, and I’m very curious to see where that leads next.