Hiding under the pseudonym Zguba is a Polish ambient music composer living in Bulgaria. For years, he co-managed the Opus Elefantum label and also founded the Loża label. In his work, manipulation of tapes and the inspiration of 20th-century classics is equally important to directing the circumstances in which the music is created.
The composer, who performs under the pseudonym Zguba, is reluctant to give any details about his biography. When asked about the beginnings of his artistic path, he admits that he is 100% self-taught, but has never shied away from exploring music theory. At this stage, the young artist was most influenced by old cassettes of industrial music classics (such as Laibach) that he picked up from his parents. These influenced his first artistic attempts in high school, which, he admits with relief, were not preserved. Zguba’s breakthrough came when he met Marcin Dymiter – leader of the cult post-rock band Ewa Braun, who at the time was already showing more interest in the contemporary electronic scene.
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He was the first to show me the electronic contraptions he had constructed himself. Over time, fascination with tape loops began to turn into an obsession.
Although – according to the few available pieces of information – he has been working under the pseudonym Zguba since 2011, his music only surfaced five years later. This was, incidentally, a particularly important time for the further artistic path of this enigmatic artist. With the release of the album The Last Command, the Opus Elefantum collective was formed, with which Zguba became involved for the next few years. He recalls:
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I was, in a way, one of its “fathers”. Brothers Janusz and Maciej Jurg got interested in my music through the Rate Your Music portal. Then Tomek (Foghorn) joined us and for many years the four of us remained decision-makers at the label. Some time ago our paths diverged and I founded a new label, Loża. Both collectives are based on the same foundations – mutual improvement and promotion of independent music. However, it was not a dramatic separation; we continue to keep in touch and support each other in our activities.
The second album to appear in the label’s catalogue was the aforementioned The Last Command. It is music in which echoes of industrial can be heard, albeit dominated by unsettling vocal samples and solemn yet unsettling electronic backgrounds.
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My friends and I used to organise screenings of silent films with live music in Kraków. “The Last Command” is precisely a recording of various tracks to a non-existent film, which I wanted to edit from surreal, most bizarre scenes of silent cinema. This found footage was to be a monstrous yet decadent audio-visual meditation. I never managed to finish the film, but to this day I am still amateurishly editing various music videos.
Although Zguba’s work evolved significantly in the following years, this early fascination with silent cinema betrayed certain tropes, associations and moods that have remained particularly close to the artist. These include, on the one hand, nostalgia and an inclination to a certain type of pathos, but also an atmosphere of decadence straight out of the Weimar Republic and an undercurrent of anxiety, as if in anticipation of an impending war.
Picture display
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Zguba - cover for the album 'Pomór', photo: Opus Elefantum
Ecstasy hidden in repetition
2019 saw the release of the first part of an ambient trilogy, Potwarz [Slander], Pomór [Plague], and Znój [Slog]. The aesthetics of unhurried, non-linear, ‘fuzzy’ electronic music seemed to Zguba to be the best for creating pieces for which mood or emotion would be more important than posing an intellectual challenge.
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Ambient seemed to me the purest vehicle for the states I was moving into during the irregular nights of creation. Both [William] Basinski and [Henryk Mikołaj] Górecki are perfectly able to convey this metaphysical suspension. A reverie that can only be born of certain emotional extremes.
Zguba does not try to hide that the most important aspect in his recordings is the spiritual dimension. He treats his work as a kind of transcript of his fears and disappointments, the process of recording of which is therapeutic. ‘It frees you from the bonds of resentment and so-called “oblomovism”’ – the artist explains.
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Hidden in the build-up of repetitions must be an ecstasy that transcends physicality, after all, music does not originate from corporeality. I prefer to believe that Bach did not write his preludes on commission, but, trivially speaking, out of a need for beauty.
Giving an insight into his working process, Zguba reveals that most of his pieces are created through improvisation. This involves manipulating loops of sound, often operating in more than a dozen versions, and mixing them with supplemental bass parts, field recordings and ambient blobs. This process, however, does not constitute the work as a whole. The artists explains:
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The means themselves matter less than the circumstances in which they are used. With each album, I tried to explore my limits. In the case of “Potwarz”, it was all kinds of intoxication, while “Znój” was created in a state of total bodily and mental fatigue, when sleep mixed with waking. This is why it takes me several years to work on one album.
Bulgarian themes can also be found in Zguba’s work. The artist admits that he sometimes weaves samples of Bulgarian choirs, recordings by composer Filip Kutev or fragments of songs from the Rhodope region into his songs. A concert was also recorded in Bulgaria and broadcast online during rhe Pandemic.
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[The concert] took place [...] in the midst of the ruins of the early Byzantine Elens Basilica, and I performed in a kukeri mask. The tradition of the kukeri dates back to pagan and Thracian times. At one time, these disguises symbolised evil spirits; today, depending on the region, they are used to ward off these demons or herald good fortune.
Life after Zguba
Subsequent albums by Zguba, although they did not reach a wide audience, were met with very warm critical reactions. Jarek Szczęsny wrote about Potwarz on Nowamuzyka.pl:
This is not an album you can pass by indifferently or turn it on in the background of your daily activities. It skilfully hits the sensitive points of the body, disturbing our day to day.
Bartek Chaciński interpreted Znój’s closing track, the last track of the trilogy, on Polifonia blog, concluding:
A tale of the cycle of life, repetition and – I have an impression – the daily struggle with the pain of existence, in long and sad sequences drowned in reverb.
Despite a warm critical reception and recurring questions about reissues of long-sold-out albums, Zguba maintains that the project has ran its course. Especially as the artist is planning further recordings under other aliases.
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Together with Foghorn, we have been recording our ‘Spirit of Eden’ for almost five years now, while I, as part of my stylistic reversal, have been exploring the vibes of early EBM in the spirit of Bioskaner. The latter project, despite its more danceable nature, touches on post-humanism, and the vision of the future that it spreads is as pessimistic as the music of Zguba.