Orval Carlos Sibelius

Recording the most luminous and conquering music there is, in order to conjure up melancholic depths. This could be the definition of the pop music made during the golden age, during which the The Beach Boys and The Left Banke allowed themselves to be as orchestral as they could be, to transcend the vital energy of what it meant to be a young, whilst Pink Floyd and The Soft Machine were breaking down the doors of perception. The music that Orval Carlos Sibelius returns to, almost to a default position. “I try to go off on tangents, but I always end up on the same road,” he admits.

In a world of joyful amnesia, artists can be recognised via their consistency. Obsessions betray authors. When you’ve inherited a gift for luxurious melodies and psychedelic heights, why look for other ways to feel alive?

You can believe Orval Carlos Sibelius when he says that his music would be the same if no one had the inclination to listen to it. And he would’ve carried on this way until his last breath if his album Super Forma hadn’t been met with some success in 2013.