Ola Szmidt - Spark In The Machine (2026)

There are moments in life when the act of creating becomes less about intention and more about surrender. It is about letting go of the familiar and stepping into the unknown. My new album is one such moment.

It was made with what we might call “limitations,” though I prefer to think of them as invitations to MAXIMUM INTIMACY. There was no vast studio, no sophisticated technology, no elaborate set of instruments. Just my voice, a loop station, a Roland Go: Mixer, a phone, a tiny drum pocket operator, a flute on two tracks, and a guitar on the piece “S Toboy.”

The recordings were made in small rooms and a tent. Spaces that seemed almost inconsequential at first glance. Yet, these locations in Warsaw, York, Los Angeles, Leicester, and Kudhva in Cornwall became more than mere physical locations. They became a part of the music itself, shaping its sound as much as the instruments I played.

At the centre of this music lies my voice. But not as a traditional instrument. Not as a means of communication, nor as a vehicle for words. My voice is the starting point, the seed, the breath that gives life to the sound. It is fragmented, unfinished, suspended between thought and expression. The loops, the hums, the breaths, they act like silent signals, carrying emotions long before language enters the picture, and sometimes, they carry nothing at all but the space between sounds.
I sang in Polish, English and Russian.

This project was never meant to be about perfection. It was meant to be a record of the moment when the conscious mind and the unconscious come together in a kind of luminous clarity.

In the creation of this music, I sought to capture that clarity, not to refine or smooth it away, but to let it be as it was, raw and unpolished, without the pressure to perfect it.

Creating music is a strange, almost alchemical process. It feels like the opening scene of Left-Handed Girl, in which a little girl, I-Jing, looks through a kaleidoscope. Music comes to me in fragments, like shifting shapes and colours, when my eyes are closed.

I often think of sound as a passageway, not simply a means of communication, but a doorway into memories, sensations, and emotions that are otherwise inaccessible. It carries with it the weight of seasons, the temperature of a forgotten summer, the texture of a distant place, the people and moments I miss.

This album, in many ways, is a return. There was a time when I felt as though circumstances and people had taken my hands away, limiting my ability to create freely. But in the making of these songs, I found my hands again. I restored my own heart, my own agency. It was a kind of reclamation. And that is the essence of this work: a return to self.

There is a line that stays with me, and I often repeat: "We do not choose who we are. We discover who we are. Then we accept her. And slowly, we learn to love her". This album is part of that discovery.

This album is more than just a collection of songs. It is a map, a guide, a step into something deeper, something less easily understood. It's an invitation to look inward, to listen closely, and to rediscover something that might have been lost. And perhaps, in that rediscovery, we can all find a little more of ourselves.

Written by Ola Szmidt