Sometimes magic finds you when you least expect it. That's exactly what happened when, among the many sounds from the Pitt Rivers Museum, I stumbled upon a recording of a night forest in the Central African Republic. I was immediately drawn to the sound because it felt magical. Without even reading the description to know the background of the sound, where it came from or how it came about, I selected it as a basis for my creation, trusting my intuition to guide me toward something special.

The Sound Weaver's Incantation is part of Cities and Memory's A Century of Sounds,an ambitious project celebrating the Pitt Rivers Museum's extraordinary audio heritage. This global collaboration brings together artists, collectors, and listeners to reimagine historical and contemporary field recordings, creating new sonic landscapes that honour the past while embracing the present.

As an artist who often searches through recorded sounds for inspiration to tell personal stories, I expected this to be just another backdrop for my reflections. But this time it ended up being different. As I began reading about the origin of the sound, chosen purely for its magical quality, I found myself lost in the discovery of a real-life hero.

I met legendary ethnomusicologist Louis Sarno – a fantastic human being who devoted his entire life to the collection, protection, and conservation of the sounds and culture of the Bayaka people. From that moment, I knew I couldn't simply use the rainforest sound as a backdrop for my personal musings. I felt the profound need to bring back to life the magic of the forest and the love and passion that Louis Sarno poured into his life's work.

Through this piece, I hope to honour Louis Sarno's legacy and the enduring magic of the Bayaka sounds he so lovingly preserved. In a world where so many cultural voices are at risk of being silenced, this incantation serves as both tribute and promise – that with patience, reverence, and a touch of magic, the music of life shall never die.

Photo by Jack Taylor on Unsplash

Asylum is an immersive piece that takes listeners into a disorienting world of raw, urgent, whispered confessions layered on a cinematic soundscape worthy of your best psychological thriller. Listeners are left with a vague sense of uneasiness, and one piece of advice: do not look in the kitchen sink.

The piece was created for Small Audio Art, the online space by Phoebe McIndoe where audio artists respond to simple prompts, like a kitchen sink, every other month. It's a low-pressure spot for short, creative audio pieces that connect makers worldwide.

This piece reflects a journey from witnessing US events and feeling powerless to taking creative action.

As an independent audio producer living in Sardinia (Italy), I could not make sense of my desperation while witnessing ICE violence in Minneapolis. I was horrified, so I decided to channel my energy into creating an incantation, using my skills to feel less powerless.

This piece aims to be cathartic resistance and magical defiance against oppression. I used the only weapon that I have, my creativity, as a tool to denounce horrific realities and, hopefully, inspire other creators to use art for activism to contribute to change.

Read, share, and speak it aloud.

Please note: The protest sound at the end has been recorded in Minneapolis, used courtesy of stevevader101 -- https://freesound.org/s/841767/ -- License: Attribution 4.0

Didn’t You Ask for Kids? is a political satirical piece about the relationship between Jeffrey Epstein and Donald Trump, all based on the misunderstanding arising from the fact that the word kids means both children and young goats. The piece starts with a weird phone call in which Epstein is informed that the kids ordered are about to be delivered to his island, “just in time for the party with my friend Donald”

but when the kids arrive, Epstein is very disappointed, while Trump will still able to find a silver lining.

The Biannual Sonic Dash is always a great opportunity to dive into another of those magic moments of high-pressure creation: you have until Sunday to come up with a two-minute audio addressing the prompt emailed to you on Friday. The catch is that you cannot use any pre-existing material, so you have to compose the music and make up the sound effects (if you use any). The prompt for this latest round was “those meddling kids”, yes, the Scooby-Doo catchphrase. I was lucky to have a small, dedicated team (Roman Lillian Uras-Garvin and Romeo Maria Minutolo), and together we brainstormed, wrote, and produced our piece.

I’d like to share a bit about our process. We agreed that we wanted something original (so we immediately put aside anything related to Scooby-Doo), humorous but also poignant, ideally making a comment on something important.

I think our Didn’t You Ask for Kids? hit the mark. This time, we didn’t make it to the 10 finalists, but we love it as it is: completely self-produced (keep an ear out for the sound effects created with doorbells, an air fryer, and a hair dryer), absolutely current in its content, definitely original (verging on the absurd), and we find it unquestionably humorous.

I hope you enjoy listening as much as we loved creating it!

A woman's perfect new home begins to feel inhabited by presences she can't quite see. In the corner of her eye, they move. When she turns, they vanish. A psychological tale of perception, paranoia, and the fine line between reality and imagination.

This piece is partly autobiographical, and partly an homage to Giorgio Manganelli's masterpiece Centuria - 100 Romanzi Fiume (Centuria: One Hundred Ouroboric Novels), a book consisting of one hundred very short absurd, enigmatic, and dreamlike stories that I read at a very young age and that had a huge impact on my artistic practice.

I created A Polished Tale as part of All The Best Radio's 24h Race, an exciting annual event, a creative challenge that gives producers 24 hours to conceptualise, record, and produce short stories on a specific theme, this year it was 'mirrored'.

If you have never taken part in a radio race, I encourage you to: it is so much fun, and, at least with All The Best, it is completely free to participate.

Enjoy the ride!
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Stuart Fowkes, creator of Cities and Memory, published a call asking artists to re imagine a curated selection of field recordings from 36 countries around the world to develop brand new compositions on the theme of sustainability, equity and well-being in cities. The project launched at the C40 Summit in Buenos Aires in October 2022. I had the honour to be one of those artists.

I started from the idea that the organisation of the city and its meeting spaces have a profound impact on society.

I then collected real and existing examples of hostile architecture, bringing them to the extreme, the worst possible scenario, where no type of aggregation is allowed if not linked to consumption.

"The fight against poverty is won by physically eliminating the poor" this the slogan of the time of terror framed, through a narrative device, in the past, a time as different as possible from a much more harmonious and inclusive present.

Check out all tracks included in the album and check also the C40 Summit: Global & Smart Cities Talk that brought together the mayors of global and regional cities, business leaders, philanthropists, campaigners, youth leaders, scientists and residents, to share bold ideas, showcase innovative solutions and stand together to create a sustainable, prosperous and equitable future.

A woman writes a message during her daily tram commute to work. Seemingly insignificant details, like selling a table or a couch, hide a deeply personal story about love, and the fragility of the hope for new beginnings. In these small, fleeting moments between home and work, she is rewriting her story, while the ordinary tram ride becomes the extraordinary vessel navigating the delicate space between now and tomorrow.

Just before leaving was created for Cities and Memory's Autumn Project, reimagining the sound of a Melbourne tram.

What happens when the characters revolt against the writer? That's what happens in this meta-nightmare, where the protagonist literally calls out from the page to tell off the writer who keeps writing her dead. A piece that answers the question: how many settings and locations can you possibly pack within 3 minutes?

The piece was originally created to address Audio Flux 06's prompt "creative tension." It plays with the idea of using cinematic soundscapes to layer scenery and characters, jumping from one fictional setting to the next while giving us a glimpse of the writer's reality at the same time.

Photo by Sarah Yessenbayeva on Unsplash