Lucie Páchová travelled to Bulgaria for the first time in the summer of 2011. Using their national census data, she identified some villages near the border with Macedonia and Greece that had a population of zero. Following rarely trodden paths, she hiked for two days to the completely abandoned village of Zanoga. Krandzhilitsa, a neighbouring, half-abandoned village, is where Páchová spent the night. The village consisted of thirty decrepit clay and stone houses, a ruined school, a cultural hall and a church with falling frescoes, and there were around ten inhabitants living there. For a few days, Páchová listened to the stories of elders who described their lives, as their fates became increasingly intertwined with the decay of rural life. She became friends with several of these inhabitants and would visit them again in the autumn of 2014 and spring and autumn of 2021, this time for longer periods of time. Only three of them remain in the village all year round. Increasingly, Páchová became aware of their resilience in the face of abandonment and the relentless passage of time. Because, after all, the valley and the city mean comfort, while the mountains are about determination and resolve.
Páchová’s recordings from Krandzhilitsa are a sonic representation of the Czech recordist’s/artist's visits to this village which captures several juxtapositions. On the one hand, she explores many contrasts, most notably “inside” and “outside”, at many points utilising both sounds which are close as well as atmospheric recordings of things far to disorienting effect. Inside/Outside. Intimate/Foreign. Human/Animal. Rhythmical/Static. She also performs on prepared zither, using objects found in abandoned houses – such as springs, combs, forks, knitting needles and chisels – to enter into a dialogue with the field recordings. These sounds and objects really belong in the past; playing them is perhaps an effort to resuscitate them and as they are being played and vibrating, they are breathing once more. Speech of the residents (“všicko zbegalo” – “everyone has gone”, and other comments about the changes in the village) intertwines with chores and sounds of the house: lighting stoves, pickling peppers, making butter, water, goats or radio static. Krandzhilitsa is a curious sound document, one that captures the atmosphere of life in a village and wonders how this remote place will sound in a few years. “Do things stay the same where there are no roads?” asks Lucie Páchová.
(Adam Badí Donoval)
This recording has been stirring many thoughts in me since the first listen, and probably more often than not the context of its creation matters. But what I see as a constant is the communication and dialogue with space. The environment as an instrument, the sound as part of the environment. And a labyrinth of emotions. jiristepan
a 32 track compilation may seem daunting at first, but after a few tracks, something magical happens: you zone out and start listening to the tracks almost as part of the same ecosystem, and marvel at all the different shapes and colours and sounds. sleepyheadphone
This stunning, beautiful project from Fujian duo Southeast of Rain 东南有雨 blends field recordings with rippling notes from the pipa. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 8, 2021
Improvised in a single stunning take, the compositions on “Symphony No 1: Winter” are hypnotic and enveloping sheets of sound. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 9, 2023
like an exploration of a fragile world that is more endangered with each passing day...beautiful, saddening, honest
ps. the tapes are beautiful, and thanks for the cute stickers ;) Pala Hux