After months spent composing and recording, Syberia are eager to finally reconnect with audiences again. “After all the time we’ve dedicated to composing and recording ‘Quan tot s’apagui’, now it’s time to experience it outside the studio,” the band explains. “That’s ultimately where the music truly comes to life for us.”

Letting the darkness speak

Listeners familiar with Syberia’s earlier work will immediately notice a heavier emotional weight running through the new album. Rather than a stylistic decision, the band describes the darker tone as something inevitable.

“The darkness was present from the beginning, not as an aesthetic choice, but as a natural consequence of the moment we were in.”

Instead of resisting that atmosphere, Syberia chose honesty over accessibility. The album explores erosion, slow collapse and emotional tension, themes reflected not only in its sound but in how the music unfolds. Their songwriting process mirrors this idea. Tracks grow patiently, layer by layer, until structures begin to fracture under their own weight. “There’s a clear element of construction,” they say, “but also wear and tear… seeing how much that structure can withstand before it starts to give way.”

For the band, the most powerful moment is not the explosion itself, but the process of falling apart.

Identity without words

Despite being an instrumental band, ‘Quan tot s’apagui’ represents a stronger embrace of identity. Conceived entirely within a Catalan context, the album reflects a search for coherence rather than reinvention. “We realized that, being a band from Catalonia, we had always used English almost by default,” they explain. “Doing it in our own language added a more intimate and honest layer and connected the album more with who we are. Catalan doesn’t change how we compose, but it does add a more intimate and honest layer to the whole. It reinforces the album’s imagery and connects it more with who we are, without forcing it or turning it into an explicit statement.” Even without lyrics guiding listeners, Syberia deliberately avoid imposing a fixed narrative. Their music begins from sensations and emotional states rather than stories.

“We like the music to remain open and for each listener to complete it based on their own experience.”

That openness has led to deeply personal reactions from audiences. Fans frequently attach songs to moments of loss, transformation or healing, interpretations far removed from the band’s original intentions. “In the end, the music ceases to belong to you,” they reflect. “It takes on a life of its own.”

From studio to stage

With the European tour now underway, Syberia are particularly excited to discover how the new material evolves live. Songs rarely remain identical once they leave the studio environment. “In the studio everything is controlled, but live the songs breathe differently,” they say. “There’s a shared energy with the audience that completely transforms the piece.” That transformation becomes even more intense in smaller venues, one reason the band is especially looking forward to their upcoming performance at Asgaard Gentbrugge. “We really like small venues for the intimacy,” they explain. “It creates a more direct, physical connection. We want to create an immersive, almost oppressive atmosphere where people can truly get inside the sound.”

Finding light in collapse

While ‘Quan tot s’apagui’ deals with endings and dissolution, Syberia reject the idea that the album is pessimistic.

“We don’t see it as a pessimistic album, but as an honest one.”

Acceptance, rather than despair, lies at its core. Within the darkness exists a fragile sense of calm — “even a small light, however faint.” For now, the band’s focus remains simple: bring the music into real spaces, allow it to evolve, and continue moving forward without losing the identity they have built together. “As a band, we’re in a very solid place,” they conclude. “What motivates us most is seeing how this album grows on stage.” And to listeners discovering them for the first time during this tour, their message is humble but sincere:

“We simply want to say thank you. We know the music we make isn’t immediate or easy, and we truly value anyone who dedicates their time and attention to it. If our music accompanies, moves, or connects with someone at any point, then it’s all worthwhile for us.”

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