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ESPLENDOR GEOMETRICO

ESPLENDOR GEOMETRICO

Performance Details

Date: Saturday, July 18

Time: 22:45 - 24:00

Stage: Inside Stage

About

Esplendor Geometrico is a Spanish industrial group formed in October 1980 in Madrid by Arturo Lanz, Gabriel Riaza, and Juan Carlos Sastre, all former members of synth-pop act El Aviador Dro. Taking their name from a text by Italian Futurist F.T. Marinetti, they developed a distinctive sound using analog synthesizers and primitive electronic percussion that helped define the rhythm noise genre.

Their debut LP Hero del Trabajo appeared in 1982. They founded their own label in 1985, and key albums include Kosmos Kino (1988) and Sheikh Aljama (1991). Their influence extends into contemporary techno and noise. Currently the members of EG are Arturo Lanz and Saverio Evangelista.

In Their Own Words

23 Questions · Interview by Maks Giordano · Answered by Arturo & Saverio

Q1

Arturo, you have stated that your music has nothing to do with intellectual ideas, it is purely physical. Why do you reject the standard intellectual theories that journalists try to apply to your industrial noise?

Journalists always look for a deeper meaning, but the truth is our music is purely physical. I reject the intellectual standard because sound should hit your body first, bypassing the brain entirely. It's about energy and primitive rhythm, not a theoretical thesis. Critics try to apply sociological or political theories to the noise, but they miss the point.

Sound should hit your body first, bypassing the brain entirely
Q2

Saverio, you are deeply obsessed with pure mathematics and the relationship between sound and numbers. How does your mathematical precision interact with Arturo's wild, instinctual vocal screaming on stage?

With mathematical rules you can generate order and repetition, but chaos can emerge from precise mathematical rules as well. It's only an apparent paradox.

I think one of the reasons our live performances work is the tension created by the contrast between those two worlds. Between order and chaos. Between mechanical repetition and organic disorder. Between structure and instinct. Arturo brings that raw and unpredictable energy. He pushes against the structure rather than simply following it. And, on the other hand, let's be honest, somebody has to do the "clean work" on stage…

Q3

You compile and compose your music entirely on iPads and Macs, rejecting traditional analog synthesizers as limiting and heavy to transport. Do you find that touch-screens offer the same physical resistance as old analog gear?

Working entirely within Logic Pro on Macs and iPads provides unparalleled freedom. The heavy lifting is done through sophisticated analog emulation effects rather than dragging around massive hardware. It allows me to maintain our abrasive sound and arrange sequences wherever I am, without the physical limitations of vintage gear. The resistance isn't in the screen; it's in how aggressively you manipulate the software.

Q4

Arturo, you are a marathon runner who swims several kilometers every day. How does physical athletic endurance influence the high-tempo, relentless nature of your live performances?

The stage demands absolute endurance. My daily routine of running 12 kilometers and swimming 3,500 meters isn't just about general fitness; it builds the intense cardiovascular engine required to sustain the physical and vocal brutality of our live shows. It translates directly into the relentless, fast-paced energy we keep up on stage.

Q5

You have maintained Esplendor Geométrico while living on opposite sides of the world, in Shanghai and Rome. How do different urban environments shape the files you exchange digitally?

The digital exchange is seamless, but the environment always seeps in. While I used to be in Shanghai, I am currently living and working in Tokyo. Traveling around Tokyo by bicycle gives me a very specific, structured rhythm of the city, which contrasts with Saverio in Rome. It simply adds a different dynamic tension to the files we bounce back and forth.

Q6

During the 1980s in Spain, you were misunderstood and accused of being fascists because of your mechanical, militaristic aesthetics. How did you navigate this hostility during the fragile democratic transition of post-Franco Spain?

We completely ignored it. In post-Franco Spain, everything was hypersensitive, but our use of militaristic or mechanical aesthetics was purely for provocation and shock value. We were never interested in the political side; we just wanted the most extreme imagery to match our extreme sound.

Q7

Your landmark track "Moscú está helado" has a techno-pop bounce that differs from your later, brutal industrial rhythms. Do you look back at that track as a playful mistake, or a necessary stepping stone?

It was a necessary stepping stone. We were experimenting with rhythm and structure early on. It has a bounce, yes, but it was just where our heads were at in that exact moment before the sound naturally evolved into something much denser and harder.

Q8

Your album Ultraphoon was mastered by concrete sound artist Francisco López and composer Teho Teardo. How did their cinematic ears alter the raw, abrasive density of your loops?

Francisco and Teho brought incredible spatial awareness to the record. They didn't soften the abrasive density of the loops; instead, they gave that raw noise a wider, more cinematic field to exist in. It made the aggression feel huge and physical.

Q9

You have stated that you do not follow modern electronic music at all, and that most bands you perform with at festivals bore you. What is it about modern industrial music that has lost the vital spark you discovered in 1980?

Much of modern industrial music is too clean and over-produced. It has lost that primitive, raw spark we discovered back then. It feels like it's made for a rigid grid rather than coming from a visceral, uncontrolled place.

It has lost that primitive, raw spark
Q10

Your name comes from Marinetti's Futurist poem "Splendore Geometrico e Meccanico". The original Futurists celebrated war and violence. How do you separate their radical aesthetic from their destructive political history?

The Futurists understood the pure, kinetic power of machines. I take that aesthetic — the speed, the noise, the mechanical rhythm — and strip away the destructive political ideology. For us, it's entirely about the sonic impact.

Q11

Why do you think your music has found its most loyal, continuous audience in Germany, whereas Spain remained largely indifferent to your work for decades?

Germany has always had a deeper, more ingrained tradition of embracing harsh electronic and industrial sounds. They understood the physical nature of our rhythm immediately. Spain at the time was looking elsewhere, trying to catch up with different cultural movements.

Q12

Your VOD Fest performance is a seventy-five-minute closing set on the Inside Stage. How do you prepare your physical bodies to deliver that level of relentless sonic weight for a crowd at midnight?

I prepare by maintaining my strict cycling, running, and swimming regimens so I arrive peak-ready. I'm traveling from Tokyo to Munich, and then down to Friedrichshafen between July 16 and July 20, so staying physically sharp ensures I can deliver that unrelenting impact when it counts at midnight.

Q13

You took your name from Marinetti, a futurist who fetishised the machine and, less comfortably, flirted with fascism. A century later, what in that machine-worship still speaks to you, and what do you have to leave behind?

The machine worship is about the hypnotic, uncompromising nature of repetitive rhythm. That still speaks to me. What I leave behind is any ideological baggage. The machine is an instrument for sound, nothing more.

Q14

Arturo, you insist you are not an industrial band and that the only real one was Throbbing Gristle. If Esplendor Geométrico is not industrial, what is it, and why does the label bother you?

Throbbing Gristle invented the term and the concept of "Industrial Music." To me, we are just making primitive, rhythmic electronic noise. The label "industrial" became a cliché, a rigid genre with rules, and I don't like following rules.

Q15

You use communist and totalitarian iconography, Albanian labour honorifics, Che Guevara, purely for the sound, yet audiences read politics into it. Do you accept responsibility for a meaning you did not intend but knew people would find?

I don't accept responsibility for how others interpret it. We use that iconography because it has a strong, aggressive visual and phonetic power. If people want to project a political thesis onto it, that's their problem, not my intention.

Q16

In the eighties you recorded most songs in a single take and changed almost nothing afterwards. What does that one-take discipline protect, and what does it sacrifice?

Recording in a single take captures the absolute truth of that moment. It protects the raw, spontaneous energy that you can't fake. What you sacrifice is clinical perfection, but we never cared about perfection anyway.

Q17

You went from analogue drum machines to iPads and computers and say the sound stayed one hundred percent recognisable. What is the irreducible core of Esplendor Geométrico that survives any change of tools?

The irreducible core is the rhythm. The aggressive, hypnotic, repetitive beat. Whether it comes from an analog drum machine or a software sequencer, that underlying primitive pulse is exactly the same.

The irreducible core is the rhythm
Q18

You started when Spanish clubs played disco and now you play Berghain, a temple built on the industrial sound you helped invent. What is it like to see your severity become the ancestor of a global dance culture?

It's amusing to see. We were just making the hardest, most uncompromising sound we could think of. Seeing that severity turn into the foundation for global dance culture just shows that people ultimately want to be moved physically by rhythm.

Q19

Spain came late to this because of its history under Franco. Did emerging from a closed society give Spanish industrial music a different charge than the British or German version?

Emerging from a closed society meant there was a massive, pent-up energy. When things opened up, we didn't just want to participate; we wanted to push things to the absolute extreme. That repression definitely gave our early work a much more violent, urgent charge.

Q20

Coil and Chris and Cosey remixed you, peers from the founding generation. When contemporaries rework your tracks, is it homage, conversation, or competition?

It's a dialogue. It is always interesting to hear peers from our generation, or newer artists, take our primitive structures and run them through their own filters.

Q21

Your rhythms are relentless and almost bodily punishing. Are you trying to move people, to overwhelm them, or to do something to their nervous system that has nothing to do with dancing?

It's about doing something directly to the nervous system. The goal isn't conventional dancing; it's to overwhelm the senses entirely, to put the audience into a physical trance through sheer rhythmic repetition.

It's about doing something directly to the nervous system
Q22

You broke away from a techno-pop band, El Aviador Dro, to make something harsher. What did melody represent to you that you needed to destroy?

Melody represented structure, expectation, and convention. It was a limitation. Destroying melody allowed us to focus entirely on texture and rhythm, which to me are much more powerful and direct forces.

Q23

You have said you simply want to have fun with what you do, without further consideration. Is that modesty, or a genuine refusal of the heavy meanings that critics and fans keep attaching to your work?

It is genuine. Critics and journalists always want to write essays and find deep intellectual meanings, but I just want to have fun and create pure energy. The simplest truth is usually the right one.

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