
Held on 10 Dec 2021
Archipelago once again makes its yearly return, inviting audiences to explore the complexity of the contemporary world through listening. In this particular edition, it looks to delve into the discourse of modernity in experimental music, its unrecognised roots and the history, politics and ideologies that govern our tastes.
This fifth edition, staying true to its identity, offers three events. The interest in shining a light on the local scene takes shape with the presence of Atomizador and his approach to psychodelia from instrumentation characterising old Western music. Marta De Pascalis, a Berlin-based composer from Rome, explores the complex ramifications of contemporary electronic music through the filter of southern European tradition, while non-hegemonic rhythmic innovations — one of the series’ core areas of interest — find a space in the session of De Schuurman, a key figure in the evolution of bubbling, a music genre originating from Afro-Dutch postcolonial diaspora and highly influential, despite its limited exposure. [dropdown]
In its early editions, Archipelago focused on reminding us how supposedly innovative aspects of modern Anglo-European music submerged roots stretching beyond the confines of geography and culture. Moreover, in 2020 the music industry was hit with major challenges. The restriction to people’s free movement and imposed social distancing fired a warning shot of the fragility underpinning many music communities. In response, last year’s edition backed in-person involvement and the immersive experience of sound amid uncertainty and selective confinements and, following health measures, vehemently opposed streaming, a format attempting to establish itself as the main channel through which to ingest music. Individual listening can be a pleasurable experience, yes, but this series would rather embrace a more physical dimension and shared intimacy.
The threat of a new, and even harsher, economic recession in this cycle of global crises is beginning to manifest itself and should not be dismissed. Many people are still reeling from previous onslaughts, while others will be susceptible to what is around the corner. Despite state aid and the injection of recovery funds, public-sector culture, education and health still unquestionably lack the resources they deserve. For all that, Archipelago is (and aspires to continue being) a public service which works meticulously to offer an enjoyable way of discovering and becoming familiar with musical structures, and their history, political determinants and material conditions.
That said, not only public structures have been affected. The so-called music industry is showing signs of abrasion, even among its alternative and minority circles. Over the past five years, Archipelago has been lucky enough to come into contact with a rich network of selfless agents and promoters, festivals financed through public funds and private sponsorship, touring artists, self-managed labels, agencies with offices in Europe that enable the circulation of artists from countries for which our borders make entry difficult, independent radio websites, close-to-extinction specialised critique, venues and clubs with bold line-ups, cultural associations, nationally and European funded projects which support medium- and long-term projects. This hive, as populated as it is fragile, has been significantly impacted by the 2021 supply crisis which, far from being irreparable, incisively points to the systemic problems with the mass consumption of music and, therefore, to the idea that it can only be understood as a commodity. The crisis in the supply chains caused by bottlenecks in ports around the world and the closure of factories in south-east Asia has reduced the supply of approximately 8,000 tons of plastic and polyvinyl chloride used to manufacture albums from a record industry at a low ebb and which, thirty years ago, produced five times the amount of plastic with the rise of the cassette. In the meantime, digital supports are also still being affected by a crisis in the supply of chips for computers and mobile phones which play streamed music. Supports manufactured with sought-after minerals enabling the mass flow of music in data format, everywhere and at all times. This digital revolution — only in terms of music streaming — requires energy sources, such as gas and carbon, that produce between 250 and 300 million kilos of greenhouse gases per year.
There can be no doubt that we find ourselves before collapse. A contradictory situation in which music seems, at times, one of the few forms with which to move beyond the bedlam stemming from its own commercial circulation. Yet far from thinking about this situation as a monumental paralysis, the word collapse works here in the sense of downfall and ruin — the fact that the last album by Marta De Pascalis is called Sonus Ruinae places it in the spirit of our times.
Despite the dystopia that has become entrenched in the present, this text does not seek to send out an apocalyptic message. Instead, it wishes to pay attention to change. A collapse is never the end times, but rather something that can put our well-being, links and affections with other humans to the test; in short, the material conditions of our life and, therefore, our music. This slow-motion collapse pushes us forward, beyond the speculative self-absorption of the future and the “next big things”, commonplace in the world of art and culture. This event offers three concerts and is an invitation to listen together to offer encouragement and excitement to survive a day, and to face the next one. The day after tomorrow? We’ll deal with that when it comes around. [/dropdown]
Programme
7pm Atomizador
Atomizador is synonymous with a passion for free music, above and beyond labels. A tireless agitator in Madrid’s underground scene, a graphic artist with expressionist and obsessive traits, inspired by figures from outsider art like Nick Blinko and Austin Osman Spare, and a staunch advocate of DIY as a life philosophy. He has created various miniature collections of expansive music, among them Hallucinosis (2018) and, particularly … y qué es exactamente un sueño… (2020), the latter of which sees his sound palette opening out to instruments such as the baroque lute and Renaissance vihuela. Both albums mentioned, released by Afeite al perro and Discos Alehop!, are the latest instalments from a discography which works to reinterpret psychodelia in the least predictable way possible. A career which, in recent times, has sought to make the echoes of old European music co-exist in the same universe as the harmonies of the Beach Boys and Vainica Doble, non-Western polyphonic vocals, glossolalia, the energy of African-American freeform jazz, the least dogmatic hardcore punk and even Japanese noise.
8pm Marta De Pascalis
Marta De Pascalis works with synthesis in both analogue and digital supports, expressively incorporating magnetic tape loops to create repetitions and complex textures, in line with the American minimalist tradition of artists like Terry Riley. De Pascalis unfurls an updated version of this compositional avenue, while also reflecting on the legacy of pioneers from the Italian soundscape, such as Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza and the more experimental side of Franco Battiato. Her third album, Sonus Ruinae (Morphine Records, 2020), is a record which looks at the future as something uncertain, and through these magnetic tape loops she overlays and cyclically develops layers which progressively fall away. This palimpsest transforms gradually to create a kind of “sound ruin”, as the artist puts it.
9pm De Schuurman
The family of Guillermo Schuurman, born in The Hague, has always been a family of music lovers and DJs, for instance his uncle DJ Chippie, considered, along with DJ Moortje, the figures responsible for putting bubbling on the map. Bubbling is a genre normally associated with communities of Afro-Dutch post-colonial diaspora in the regions of Curazao, Aruba and Surinam and, according to scholars such as Wayne Marshall, it came into being in the 1980s when Moortje accidentally played a dancehall record at 45 rpm, instead of 33, to the euphoria of the people dancing and later a whole music scene that would work on reformulating Jamaican sounds in a fresh and innovative way. In the middle years between the two decades of the 2000s, a teenage De Schuurman became one of the purveyors of bubbling, uncoiling it to other urban genres and electronic sounds more typical of house productions. More recently, the Ugandan label Nyege Nyege Tapes, hailed for its global dissemination of local genres such as Tanzanian Singeli (present in the 2019 Archipelago), has dug up some of De Schuurman’s most emblematic tracks in the anthology Bubbling Inside (2021), one of the few phonographic documents of a genre and music scene which would have seldom transcended the borders of The Hague and Rotterdam, but the influence of which in the development of recent dance music is worthy of review.
Curators
Rubén Coll and José Luis Espejo
Organised by
Museo Reina Sofía






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Blake Edwards. The Party
Thursday, 20 August 2026
In The Party, actor Hrundi V. Bakshi (Peter Sellers) is mistakenly invited to a glamorous dinner party in Hollywood. His curiosity and two left feet lead to one funny mishap after the other. During the soiree he consoles Michèle, a young actress who has been fired by her producer, and the chaos gathers momentum when Bakshi accidentally opens a retractable floor, making the guests fall into a swimming pool. A small hippie-style elephant gatecrashes the party, brought by a group of young people, and Bakshi asks the guests to wash the elephant as it is a sacred animal in his country. The house fills with soap suds, culminating in a wackily chaotic party.
When Stanley Kubrick was once asked who Peter Sellers was, he replied: “There is no such person as Peter Sellers”. The Party is one of the most widely recognised comedies in the history of film, its director Blake Edwards and the English actor making an entertaining critique of a fading conservative society. The cultural revolutions of the 1960s fit into the container of a choppy swimming pool: people from high society, an elephant, a Russian ballet, waiters, beatnik youth… similar to Sellers’s own identity: an empty vessel that can be refilled. In the film, Edwards tapped into the ingenious actor’s innate improvisation and the swimming pool as a container for revolutionary intent.

Lucrecia Martel. La ciénaga (The Swamp)
Viernes 21 de agosto, 2026
A couple of families spend the summer in a country cottage. The relationship between them exposes a crisis. The alcoholism of Mecha (Graciela Borges) and Gregorio (Martín Adjemián) becomes clear, leading to a drift in the education of their children and impacting relationships of respect and affect. Weariness expresses the lackadaisical environment.
In La ciénaga Lucrecia Martel approaches the decadence of a middle-class Argentinian family. The pool of dirty, stagnant water reflects the economic and social collapse of a whole country, yet reflects more than economic crisis as it becomes a murky well feeding off the pain of those living in the house. An erstwhile space of joy, the swimming pool becomes a reflection of adult depression, resulting in apathy. And the children, especially the girls, seem to be the only people awake in this drift. Barring a flicker of unawareness, the young people immerse themselves in rainwater or the water from the river, in water that flows, but are cautious of getting too close to the swimming pool.
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Yorgos Lanthimos. Dogtooth
Saturday, 22 August 2026
A couple with three adult children live in a modern country cottage. A large swimming pool takes centre stage in a sizeable garden. The property is skirted by a large fence that blocks a view of the outside. Here, the father has educated his children without outside contact, maintaining their belief in a false world: aeroplanes fall in the garden like toys and they must act like dogs to defend themselves from the ferocious cats that surround the house. The promise of going out into the world when they lose their dogtooth is proof of their maturity.
Lanthimos builds a world that is surreal, comical and terrible. The swimming pool is the house’s central element, a limited, controlled space assimilated like the sea, yet under the father’s supervision. A space of imagination, but with sinister intentions: the children are indoctrinated under the water as they believe in a better world. Far from reality. The swimming pool’s limits are the limits of their freedom, a false state of well-being expressed in the weightless bodies in the water. The liquid element is an analgesic magma with the power to educate offspring under the latent fear of a shark bite.
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Binka Zhelyazkova. The Swimming Pool
Viernes 28 de agosto, 2026
The young, bright Bella (Yanina Kasheva), after unforeseen heartbreak at her graduation party, meets Apostol (Kosta Tsonev), a reserved architect, and Boyan (Kliment Denchev), a comedy actor who is cynical about his country. The three characters climb up to a diving board in a municipal swimming pool, where they begin a strange relationship of friendship, love and despair which reflects a generational clash.
Binka Zhelyazkova, the great enfant terrible of Eastern European cinema, critic of the communist system and widely acclaimed film-maker beyond Bulgarian borders, made in The Swimming Pool a masterly metaphor for a country in decline. The public pool symbolises a closed, immovable enclosure where society is festering. From the height of a diving board she sees, in a panoptic view, the different generations living underneath a limited space. On one side, older people attempt to preserve the old revolutionary spirit with constant collective swimming exercises while, on the other, young people don’t hide the desire for freedom that remains unrealised. The result is an ideological clash in how to act and move in the enclosure, unearthing vast hypocrisy in the lost ideals of socialism, reflected in the total apathy of youth. The Swimming Pool for Zhelyazkova is a reflection of the disillusionment and existential void of a whole country and system.
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Jacques Deray. The Swimming Pool
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The characters played by Alain Delon (Jean-Paul) and Romy Schneider (Marianne) experience their love in apparent splendour. A sun-drenched house, a blissful swimming pool, beautiful bodies, sexuality in abundance. The visit of Harry (Maurice Ronet), a successful musician, friend of Jean-Paul and ex-lover of Marianne, accompanied by his young and beautiful daughter Penélope (Jane Birkin), rocks their relationship, bringing to light the jealousy and insecurities of each one in a dark game of possession and male rivalry.
If there was a definition of the glistening blue pool in this sexual thriller, it would be the paradise of Adam and Eve, represented by the shots of happiness of Romy Schneider and Alain Delon in this swimming pool on France’s Côte d’Azur. The appearance of these two beautiful creatures kissing semi-naked by the water is one of film’s resonant images. The paradise cannot be fractured, not even by death. As in the crossing of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, where humanity’s first lovers bathed naked in the water, innocent to their imminent end, the reflection of the crystalline water of The Swimming Pool shows this game, and the deep traumas which, under this mantle, are hidden in the amorous relationships and limits that only love is capable of breaking to solve.
In this session both endings to the film are screened: the original version, open and symbolic, and the Spanish version, marked by censorship during Francoism, and its sequence for a Spanish premiere — a stereotypical and reductive vision reflecting the sociological condition of the country.