AlbuM

This is my ninth album of Antarctic music and eighth collaboration with Michael Stibor. It continues an interest in and affection for Antarctica that began with my first visit in 1993 as a tourist and continued through four more trips to the Antarctic Peninsula, the Ross Sea area and along the coast of Western Antarctica. Antarctica has not been deeply associated with either dancing or music, although many popular and classical music recordings related to Antarctica have been made in recent decades. In the spirit of fun, we chose Antarctic themes and events, some serious and others less so, that we could illustrate with various styles of dance music that seemed to fit the stories. These are more fully described in the album notes that follow. I continue to be indebted to my musical collaborator, Michael Stibor, for his compositional, arrangement, keyboard and guitar skills.

      –  Valmar Kurol, Montreal, Canada, April 2026

When Valmar approached me with the idea of making a dance record centered around Antarctica, I didn’t blink. I didn’t even ask if he’d finally cracked under the pressure of our eighth album together. I was just…in. On paper, the two don’t really mix. Most people associate Antarctica with scientific silence, heavy parkas, and the kind of cold that makes your limbs forget they have joints – not exactly the “club vibe” of the season. But there is something beautifully human about the contradiction. Antarctica isn’t just a block of ice; it’s a microcosm of the world. It’s one of the few places on Earth defined entirely by a gathering of different cultures, languages, and backgrounds, all huddled together against the elements. And if there is one thing humans do regardless of where we’re from or how many layers of thermal wool we’re wearing, it’s move. We’ve definitely stretched the definition of “dance” on this one – it’s not all four-on-the-floor – but the pulse is always there. We dance to stay warm, sure, but mostly we dance to celebrate being alive. That’s what this music is to us. After eight albums, the process itself has become our favorite ritual. It’s celebratory, it’s a bit ridiculous, and it’s our way of finding a beat in the middle of a blizzard. So, wherever you are and however you choose to move to it, we hope you find something here worth celebrating. Stay warm, and keep dancing.

      –  Michael Stibor, Montreal, Canada, April 2026