The Intimacy of Finding Your Sound
A Conversation with Sojo on His New Album, “Melancolía”.
Sojo, thank you so much for taking the time to sit down and talk. I’ve been listening to Melancolía on repeat for a couple of weeks now. There’s something deeply honest in the album’s overall vibe. I feel like in today’s electronic music scene, we’re often surrounded by a saturation of sounds explicitly designed for peak-time club sets, but Melancolía feels more like a space to inhabit, a sort of intimate dialogue with machines and synthesizers.
Where does the name come from, and what was your initial approach to the album?
“It all started with the third track, which is where the album gets its name, “Melancolía.” This was the very first track I composed when the Sonicware Liven Evoke arrived from Japan. It’s an extremely interesting synth that innovates with this “acoustronic” sound signature. I absolutely loved it for creating super soulful pads, sound effects, and even dub textures.”
What were you up to during those days, and how did you arrive at the overall concept for the album?
“Around that time, I was going out to the park a lot with the synth, and that’s where the first melodies that shape the album came to life. Later on, while experimenting in the studio, I realized it was also great for creating basslines. By just adding a bit of warmth from an analog mixer to dress up that “digital” sound, I got these incredibly deep bass tones. I used it that way for the basslines on tracks like “Profundo Cariño” and “Se Me Perdió Hada”.
“For me, music has always been my most honest form of expression, and this is my most personal album. All the vocals and lyrics, though simple, were written and sung by me. It was a journey of learning and evolving toward a sound that feels increasingly unique and moves away from generic loops.”
This album definitely sounds deeply personal and unique. It feels like you successfully translated everything you’re sharing into the music itself. It gives us that sense of missing, not from a place of wanting to go back to a specific time, but rather fondly remembering moments and people.
What was the technical and emotional process like?
“I truly just let myself be guided by improvisation. It was an ongoing conversation with the hardware over a few months, during which we ended up with more than 20 tracks. It was really hard to narrow it down to the ones that felt the most honest to me. After Uyopía, I wanted to make a shorter and more concise album.”
That idea of “conversing with the machines” strikes me as one of the most accurate and poetic ways to describe working with hardware. In the end, synths and sequencers don’t just follow orders; they have their own quirks and dynamics that react organically to how you’re feeling. Bringing that level of honesty into the process completely shifts the final result.
Narrowing down twenty jams into a handful of tracks that truly embody the essence of “Melancolía” must have required surgical precision and total detachment. Leaving out over ten pieces that undoubtedly had their own value couldn’t have been easy.
What kind of space or mindset do you hope listeners discover within these frequencies?
“It’s like looking through an old photo album with your friends or family—each song represents a different memory. The first time you rode a bike, your first toy, your first scraped knee, that moment you sigh over someone who is still by your side, the time a dance performance gave you goosebumps, or that feeling when you cry on the dance floor.”
Crying on the dance floor… Wow. What a beautiful, visceral way to put it. That’s what real electronic music is all about: those moments where collective catharsis and personal introspection meet. Having “Melancolía” act as a sonic photo album—where every frequency evokes everything from childhood innocence to present-day vulnerability—gives the record an incredible human dimension. It’s a sanctuary.
The album art caught our attention—what is it? It looks like some kind of black thing.
“Exactly that: a black thing, a black bile. From the Greek melankholía (μελαγχολία) a deep, quiet sadness.”
Sojo, it has been an absolute pleasure talking with you. Best of luck, and congratulations on this release.
You can support the album via the label Bandcamp; it is also available on all digital platforms.