Alicia Lazaro - There Is No End To Anything Round (2026) [Hi-Res]

Tracklist

01. The Unwishing Well [beginning]
02. Los Cuatro Muleros [hope]
03. Love, How Long Will You Wait Ever To Land? [longing]
04. Imagina Que Despierto [reverie]
05. Litae [prayer]
06. Eyalirtaq [loss]
07. We Knew There Would Be Blood [anger]
08. Nocturno [surrender]
09. There Is No End To Anything Round [acceptance]
10. The Song Of The Sea [love]

There is a door, always ajar, into the invisible world. It is made of all the things we cannot see and cannot touch. It starts with a note.

There is no end to anything round, Alicia Lázaro’s debut album, unfolds as a constellation of mythical tales. Inspired by ancient stories from all over the world, heard and imagined, the album connects with the myth of the eternal return, unfolding like a circular never-ending emotional journey. Blending classical and jazz influences with contemporary electronics, it features collaborations with artists such as Arve Henriksen. The songs are a quiet loom of voices, blooming one into another like a tactile fabric of sound, rough and eroded on the edges.

Sound here, is not only something to be heard but a place to enter. The album, shaped through spatial sound (Dolby Atmos, Gabriel Lundh), becomes a dome of floating paths around the listener, intimately close at times, an ethereal voice at others. Following this vision, Alicia Lázaro has not built a collection of songs, but a world brought to life in Virtual Reality, where listeners are invited to walk through and interact with the music.

These songs are a spell, a tale of loss, and love, and shadows. They came from darkness and moonlight, from hope and heartbreak, from the myths, the rising sea, the deep blue forest, the falling nightmares. They came like prayer, to keep the light where there was none. To bring back hope when it had fallen. To ask for patience. To let go.
To let light into the stone, we need more than blades of piercing steel. If only the singing of the water and a silent wisp of air.

Some of them are fairytales, coming from the ancient rites, from the earth itself, who shaped them from mouth to mouth over the ages. Others are daydreams, suddenly seen, suddenly vanished, leaving only a trail. All are the sounds of a heart breaking open— the silent and the stale, the beauty of the crimson pouring.
To let light into the stone, we need more than blades of piercing steel. If only the singing of the water and a silent wisp of air.