Ignacio Aguilera Bericochea (I.A.Bericochea) is a producer who, in the spir… Read Full Bio ↴Ignacio Aguilera Bericochea (I.A.Bericochea) is a producer who, in the spirit of Persona Records, comes not from the DJ scene but from an eclectic background. In Bericochea's case, lots of bands and the study of physics. A bass player and electronic music producer who is inspired by the concrete world of materials, his haunting music explores the way sounds are transformed from substance to wave and back again, mutating the noises of wood, metal and everyday detrius into otherworldy atmospheres. Beat driven, dusky and textured, Bericochea’s tracks haunt dark rooms and twilit spaces with their shadows, but the unfurling melodies are nontheless playful.
Bericochea debuted on Hawtin’s M_nus in 2003 with the EP ‘A’, and released his debut full length, ‘Rojo’, the same year. Here’s what xlr8r said about Rojo: “It's only coincidence that Ignacio Aguilera Bericochea's name is so reminiscent of the cochlea, that bony, shell-shaped part of the inner ear that's the heart of our hearing, but how fitting it is. I.A. Bericochea's music, a profoundly thinned-out minimal techno that's more absent than present, offers the profoundest kind of intense listening, grounded with bass that reverberates deep in the body and graced with white noise that seems to graze the very surface of the ear drum, like summer grasses brushing against weathered cement. "Rojo-like red eye," which reflects blood vessels in the eye of a photographed subject-is a journey into the pulsing heart of sound."
And The Wire: “Bericochea brings just enough emotional edge and sonic vibrancy to his dry minimalist beats and deep quavering bass patterns to give them a stealthy, unsettling life of their own. His compositions seem to come out of nowhere, accumulating an undeniable presence that lingers on long after the final shudder”
I.A. Bericochea’s next album, Sueño (2006), was mastered by Stefen Betke (aka Pole) and released on a label created for the purpose called Rojo.it.
Textura said: “There's no question the Basic Channel-Chain Reaction spirit is alive and well on I.A. Bericochea's forty-minute Sueño ... 'Sueño' means 'dream' in Spanish and there's certainly a spectral quality to the material ... Often sounding as if it was recorded in a hollow chamber, Bericochea's minimal techno manages to sound both skeletal and full, as showers of cymbal patterns, groaning bass lines, echoing reverberations, and skipping pulses come to the fore and then recede.”
The evasive and mysterious qualities of Beriochea’s sound arise from his broad exploration of sound in diverse contexts. In 1995 started playing bass in bands: metal, punk and instrumental. The best known was Actitud de Rechazo, a metal band that played in Spain, the most curious was Carosi, an emo-hardcore band which did an aventure to tour the west coast of the USA and Mexico.
In the early 00s following a stint studying physics at the University of Madrid, Ignacio Aguilera started to record found sounds, experimenting with beats and transformations, finding imediate success with his solo projects for with M_nus. Bericochea’s tracks have graced several minus compilations and mixes in the last few year, including DE9 Transitions and Magda’s ‘She’s a dancing machine’. He has toured solo throughout Spain and Mexico.
Bericochea debuted on Hawtin’s M_nus in 2003 with the EP ‘A’, and released his debut full length, ‘Rojo’, the same year. Here’s what xlr8r said about Rojo: “It's only coincidence that Ignacio Aguilera Bericochea's name is so reminiscent of the cochlea, that bony, shell-shaped part of the inner ear that's the heart of our hearing, but how fitting it is. I.A. Bericochea's music, a profoundly thinned-out minimal techno that's more absent than present, offers the profoundest kind of intense listening, grounded with bass that reverberates deep in the body and graced with white noise that seems to graze the very surface of the ear drum, like summer grasses brushing against weathered cement. "Rojo-like red eye," which reflects blood vessels in the eye of a photographed subject-is a journey into the pulsing heart of sound."
And The Wire: “Bericochea brings just enough emotional edge and sonic vibrancy to his dry minimalist beats and deep quavering bass patterns to give them a stealthy, unsettling life of their own. His compositions seem to come out of nowhere, accumulating an undeniable presence that lingers on long after the final shudder”
I.A. Bericochea’s next album, Sueño (2006), was mastered by Stefen Betke (aka Pole) and released on a label created for the purpose called Rojo.it.
Textura said: “There's no question the Basic Channel-Chain Reaction spirit is alive and well on I.A. Bericochea's forty-minute Sueño ... 'Sueño' means 'dream' in Spanish and there's certainly a spectral quality to the material ... Often sounding as if it was recorded in a hollow chamber, Bericochea's minimal techno manages to sound both skeletal and full, as showers of cymbal patterns, groaning bass lines, echoing reverberations, and skipping pulses come to the fore and then recede.”
The evasive and mysterious qualities of Beriochea’s sound arise from his broad exploration of sound in diverse contexts. In 1995 started playing bass in bands: metal, punk and instrumental. The best known was Actitud de Rechazo, a metal band that played in Spain, the most curious was Carosi, an emo-hardcore band which did an aventure to tour the west coast of the USA and Mexico.
In the early 00s following a stint studying physics at the University of Madrid, Ignacio Aguilera started to record found sounds, experimenting with beats and transformations, finding imediate success with his solo projects for with M_nus. Bericochea’s tracks have graced several minus compilations and mixes in the last few year, including DE9 Transitions and Magda’s ‘She’s a dancing machine’. He has toured solo throughout Spain and Mexico.
R3
I. A. Bericochea Lyrics
Mann
What the fuck dawg, missin my nigga
Home, get yo ass home
Fuck all these feds get my brudder fuckin home
Looking at the time, like it's time to
Hit your phone, Dawgy up in jail, got me feeling all alone
Never would I thought I'd be making this song This shit got me hurt, so I be smoking all
This dope, Praying for a shorter time sentence gotta have some hope
Fuck the state county and fuck all the snitches
Finna find out who snitched, finna give that nigga's stitches
Feds ran through my brudder crib, like
Feds came runnin through the crib, like what
The fuck, dawg
Like who the fuck tipped off the feds, finna run you down
Finna run through your crib and drop you without a sound
Say man, why yall niggas lock my brudder up
Trappin, ain't shit, my nigga was tryna make a couple bucks
Finna slide through, free my nigga, giving zero fucks
Serving five fucking years, when he out, we going up
It's free, my nigga, R3, until its fucking backwards
Finna hold it down for my dawg, I ain't no slacker
Finna flip that pack, get that bag, nigga, I'm a stacker
Finna up the price on the liters, my nigga, I'm a taxer
Finna hold my head high, Until my brother, get out
In the meantime, finna smoke another ounce
Hard to tell myself not to take this pill in this house
But for now, I gotta lay low until I find this mouse
Ain't no doubt
Finna slide where you stay, wit a chop and run down your house
Feds make me sick, like, hop off a nigga dick
Before I slide a Mesa PD and hit this lick
Like, what about the CIA, they just flipped a brick
Like, one, two, five hundred, fuckin bricks
Like, bitch, don't y'all got some better to do, Instead of lock-in up my nigga like look who's ahead of you
Shake my fucking head, can't wait til my brudder back
He gon' bounce back, when he out, he gon' get that bag
Label my nigga as a felon, make me mad
It don't feel right, wit you gone, make me fuckin sad
Shake my fucking head, can't wait til my brudder back
He gon' bounce back, when he out, he gon' get that bag
Label my nigga as a felon, make me mad
Don't feel right, with you gone, make me fuckin sad
Just wait till my brother back, he gon' get that bag up
Bitch, Ion gonna fuck what you say
My brudder finna fuckin stack up
Free brother, man, free that nigga
Say man, why yall niggas lock my brudder up
Trappin, ain't shit, my nigga was tryna make a couple bucks
Finna slide through, free my nigga, giving zero fucks
Serving five fucking years, when he out, we going up
It's free, my nigga, R3, until its fucking backwards
Finna hold it down for my dawg, I ain't no slacker
Finna flip that pack, get that bag, nigga, I'm a stacker
Finna up the price on the liters, my nigga, I'm a taxer
What the fuck dawg, missin my nigga
Home, get yo ass home
Fuck all these feds get my brudder fuckin home
Looking at the time, like it's time to
Hit your phone, Dawgy up in jail, got me feeling all alone
Never would I thought I'd be making this song This shit got me hurt, so I be smoking all
This dope, Praying for a shorter time sentence gotta have some hope
Fuck the state county and fuck all the snitches
Finna find out who snitched, finna give that nigga's stitches
Feds came runnin through the crib, like what
The fuck, dawg
Like who the fuck tipped off the feds, finna run you down
Finna run through your crib and drop you without a sound
Say man, why yall niggas lock my brudder up
Trappin, ain't shit, my nigga was tryna make a couple bucks
Finna slide through, free my nigga, giving zero fucks
Serving five fucking years, when he out, we going up
It's free, my nigga, R3, until its fucking backwards
Finna hold it down for my dawg, I ain't no slacker
Finna flip that pack, get that bag, nigga, I'm a stacker
Finna up the price on the liters, my nigga, I'm a taxer
Finna hold my head high, Until my brother, get out
In the meantime, finna smoke another ounce
Hard to tell myself not to take this pill in this house
But for now, I gotta lay low until I find this mouse
Ain't no doubt
Finna slide where you stay, wit a chop and run down your house
Feds make me sick, like, hop off a nigga dick
Before I slide a Mesa PD and hit this lick
Like, what about the CIA, they just flipped a brick
Like, one, two, five hundred, fuckin bricks
Like, bitch, don't y'all got some better to do, Instead of lock-in up my nigga like look who's ahead of you
Shake my fucking head, can't wait til my brudder back
He gon' bounce back, when he out, he gon' get that bag
Label my nigga as a felon, make me mad
It don't feel right, wit you gone, make me fuckin sad
Shake my fucking head, can't wait til my brudder back
He gon' bounce back, when he out, he gon' get that bag
Label my nigga as a felon, make me mad
Don't feel right, with you gone, make me fuckin sad
Just wait till my brother back, he gon' get that bag up
Bitch, Ion gonna fuck what you say
My brudder finna fuckin stack up
Free brother, man, free that nigga
Say man, why yall niggas lock my brudder up
Trappin, ain't shit, my nigga was tryna make a couple bucks
Finna slide through, free my nigga, giving zero fucks
Serving five fucking years, when he out, we going up
It's free, my nigga, R3, until its fucking backwards
Finna hold it down for my dawg, I ain't no slacker
Finna flip that pack, get that bag, nigga, I'm a stacker
Finna up the price on the liters, my nigga, I'm a taxer
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Written by: Odin Forehand
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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