PHOTOGRAPHY Reece Sweeney
CGI & ILLUSTRATIONS George Jasper Stone
STYLING Yasmin Williams
GROOMING Tarik Bennafla at Stella Creatives using STMNT
MUA Ciara DeRóiste
PRODUCTION Tori West & Chiara Maculan
Ever wanted to know what insomnia would sound like? Or perhaps the confused dissociation from reality that comes from awakening after a restless night? Audio architect Sega Bodega – aka Salvador Navarrete – captures those elusive moments in his latest release, exploring the void between wakefulness and sleep, where reality bends and twists into surreal arrangements.
I first meet Navarrete on the bustling set of our cover shoot before he sets off to London’s infamous venue Fabric to play a set at long-time collaborator and friend Shygirl’s club night. Days later, as we connect over a virtual interview, he is poised for another venture, preparing to hit the road to tour with his band, Kiss Facility. It’s a tireless pattern that seems to define Navarrete’s world – caught between the pulsating energy of the nightlife scene and the quiet introspection of creative exploration. It was against this backdrop that the polymath’s third and latest studio album Dennis began to take shape – a sonic journey that blurs the lines between dream and reality, consciousness and oblivion.
From the depths of sensory turmoil to the dizzying euphoria of dream logic, Dennis emulates a confused dissociation from reality, finally terminating with a descent into REM sleep, serving as a portal into the mystical worlds of his imagination. “That feeling you have when you’re in such an intense headspace can make you lose track of all,” he explains. “Everything can blur into one thing. Time passes in strange ways and sleep becomes quite disorientating.”
Inspired by the jolting, dreamlike flow of Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria, Navarrete impeccably echoes this stupefying daze by sharply jumping from one track to the following, derailing the songs’ structures with distorted, glitchy vocals. Opening track ‘Coma Dennis’ – which depicts a tumultuous night of fractured sleep through a confusing cacophony of fog horn-like sounds and creepy vocals calling out “Dennis” – is abruptly interrupted by the 8-bit alarm clock of second song ‘Adulter8’, ushering listeners into a vibrant, bass-driven dance anthem.
Navarrete’s music has long rejected the boundaries of genres, blending raw acoustic chords and intoxicating electronic beats with remarkable ease. On Dennis, the Irish-Chilean producer further defies narrative expectations and transcends traditional production techniques. He explains that he became bored solely crafting club anthems, which influenced the intimate nature of tracks ‘Set Me Free, I’m an Animal’, ‘True’ and ‘Humiliation Doesn’t Leave a Mark’.
Embracing a fluid and intuitive approach to songwriting, his compositions often emerge from a stream of consciousness, with lyrics born from spontaneous musings rather than intentional storytelling. “Some of the songs are completely fictional and about nothing. ‘Tears & Sighs’ isn’t really about anybody. It’s words that came up as I was mumbling shit and I just went with that. A lot of meaning comes after you do it,” he explains.
The outro of ‘Dirt’ is beautified by the voice of actor, director, and screenwriter Miranda July reciting “My water bottle is bird transition” – a nonsensical line that one of Navarrete’s friends muttered while sleep talking. Even as he acknowledges the scrambled logic of his abstract lyrics, Navarrete finds solace in the ambiguity they offer, allowing listeners to ascribe their own meaning to the music. “I like things to be abstract and open to interpretation. If something is obvious in its meaning, people are going to stop at that,” he adds.
I like things to be abstract and open to interpretation. If something is obvious in its meaning, people are going to stop at that.
For ‘Deer Teeth’, Navarrete was inspired by the 7000-year-old Mesolithic burial of a Danish woman who, having died from childbirth, was buried alongside her baby. Throughout the song, he evocates a primordial, unsettling atmosphere through trance-inducing melodies and the sinuous voice of his Kiss Facility counterpart Mayah Alkhater. Across the record, the artist prioritises the aural qualities of these voices over the literal meanings of the words, playing second fiddle to his mesmerising, unpredictable production and contributing to the comatose landscape of the album.
Taking the innovative approach of crafting almost half of the album during live stream sessions on Twitch, Navarrete makes his audience participants in his creative process – exploiting the vulnerability of airing such personal material so publicly and online to meet the listeners’ needs and maintain engagement. “When you’re making something and you can visibly see that people are losing interest in that moment and they’re not here anymore, then you start thinking you should probably try and cater to the audience more and make something more naturally fun as opposed to something quiet,” he remarks. “I wouldn’t have thought about it so much if I’d been alone, but I was definitely trying to do something a bit more engaging throughout the whole thing.”
Despite admitting that producing for others has perhaps been to the detriment of his own catalogue, Sega Bodega has led the way in crafting pop-adjacent underground electronic music for the best part of a decade. Those yet to have heard of the Glaswegian-raised artist may be forgiven for not knowing the extent of his output – however, those who have, know he’s been staying busy. 2019 marked a summer of touring culminating in an orchestral arrangement of his works he marshalled at London’s St Pancras Old Church. However, it wasn’t until 2020 and the arrival of solo album Salvador that listeners were truly let into Sega Bodega’s inner sanctum.
“There’s power in numbers, it’s really important. I’ve always enjoyed working with other people, it’s so exciting,” Navarrete tells me. NUXXE, the London collective he co-founded in 2016, is home to future-facing artists Shygirl, Coucou Chloe, and Oklou, while his CV sports glittering features and credits, from his work with similarly genre-bending artists Brooke Candy, Dorian Electra, and Eartheater, to the production of Shygirl’s Mercury prize-nominated Nymph, and his contribution to Björk and Rosalía’s collaborative single ‘Oral’. Navarrete’s BRICKS cover has been a long time coming – he previously featured editor Tori West in his ‘Salv Goes To Hollywood’ music video back in 2020.
“Everyone has their own approach to work,” he continues. “As you collaborate with other people, you’re learning new approaches to songwriting, visuals, and production. I think, if I didn’t have all those other collaborations, I would be creatively blocked. I have to balance my own music with other people’s input, otherwise I’ll go a bit crazy. If I don’t have the balance that comes from hearing other people’s opinions on my own stuff, it can be very isolating.”
Friendship, community, and creative collaboration are at the heart of Sega Bodega’s artistic vision, serving as vital conduits for exploration and expression. The album’s visuals are marked with the signature style of another close friend, BRICKS cover photographer and director, Aidan Zamiri – the creative force behind some of the most distinctive music artwork of the last decade. His packed roster includes the visual stylings of Caroline Polachek’s critically acclaimed album Desire, I Want To Turn Into You, Charli XCX’s latest hot girl-adorned music video 360, and Billie Eilish’s Rolling Stones cover for her forthcoming album, Hit Me Hard and Soft. Navarrete is proud to call the fellow Glaswegian “one of the greats”, as well as a close collaborator. “[Our friendship] will instantly win over everything else. Plus, he’s amazing at his job,” he points out. “I feel very lucky to be able to have him dedicate his time to my stuff. I’m a fan, too, equally as much as we are close.”
Concluding the journey through Navarrete’s sleep cycle, the record’s final track ‘Coma Salv’ captures the moment when you can finally let go and abandon yourself to a more peaceful rest. “When you meditate, you really clock the moment you start to fall asleep,” he points out. “[I really enjoyed] the feeling of being so conscious of how your body starts to feel pressed down. That’s why the last song on the album tries to emulate it: it’s lower, a bit slower, and there’s five key changes so it keeps going down and down and down.”
Despite its abstractism, Dennis offers an introspective glance into the mind of an artist who has emerged from the darkness he finds comfort in. It’s the perfect club record to lose yourself in, and yet, each song reveals Navarrete to be at his most grounded.
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