Album Review: Arnasten Ikasteko Berriz by Napoka Iria – A Journey Through Sound and Soul
Let’s cut to the chase: Arnasten Ikasteko Berriz (which roughly translates to “To Learn to Breathe Again”) is one of those albums that sneaks up on you like an old friend showing up unannounced but in the best way possible. Released in 2013 under the Basque label Bonberenea Ekintzak, this record blends jazz, folk, world music, country, and pop into something that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. And trust me, it's not every day you find yourself humming along to a trumpet solo while wondering if your soul just got mildly baptized.
The mastermind behind this sonic patchwork is Miren Narbaiza Martiartu, whose vocals are as warm as they are haunting. Backed by a crew of talented musicians—including Ander Mujika Zubiaurre wearing more hats than a milliner at a royal wedding—we get layers upon layers of acoustic guitar strums, bassoon murmurs, and even some lap steel guitar magic. Producer Ibai Gogortza deserves a shoutout too for keeping things tight without losing the raw charm.
Now, let’s zoom in on two tracks that’ll stick with you longer than last week’s questionable life choices:
Track 2: Distantziak
This song hits different. With Ibai Gogortza laying down some serious contrabass vibes and Felix Buff sprinkling percussion like seasoning on fries, "Distantziak" builds itself around a groove so hypnotic you might forget where you parked your car. The real kicker? That moment when Miren’s voice floats over everything else like smoke from a campfire—it’s tender yet fierce, making you feel all sorts of feelings you didn’t sign up for. You know those songs that make you want to stare out a rainy window and pretend you're in a movie? Yeah, this is one of them.
Track 8: Izotzetan Erre
If there ever was a track designed to soundtrack a late-night existential crisis, it’s this one. Harmonium player Iban Urizar brings a dreamy melancholy that pairs perfectly with his trumpet work later in the track. It starts slow, almost shy, then blossoms into something unexpectedly lush. By the time Ander Mujika Zubiaurre chimes in with his electric guitar licks, you’re fully submerged in whatever mood cocktail they’ve concocted here. Honestly, listening to this feels like finding a forgotten Polaroid photo—you don’t remember taking it, but damn, does it resonate.
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So yeah, Arnasten Ikasteko Berriz isn’t perfect—it has its quirky moments, sure—but maybe that’s what makes it so endearing. Like a slightly crooked painting or mismatched socks, sometimes imperfection just works. What strikes me most about this album is how human it feels. Every note seems intentional yet spontaneous, crafted with love but unafraid to let loose.
And here’s the kicker—listening to this album made me realize something weird. Music doesn’t always need to scream “LISTEN TO ME!” Sometimes, it whispers, nudging you gently until you lean closer. This record does exactly that. So go ahead, give it a spin. Who knows? Maybe you’ll learn to breathe again too… or at least hum along awkwardly in the shower.
Final verdict? 8/10. Would recommend pairing with strong coffee and weaker expectations.
