Papiro

Teopatia, released on Planam, marks a turning point in the discography of Papiro (Marco Papiro), the Swiss composer and analog explorer. Conceived as a “mass in an archaic scene for electronic instruments and deceptive voices,” the album is a meditation on the intersection between the sacred and the artificial. Using vintage synthesizers and ingenious sound design, Papiro constructs immersive soundscapes that evoke the architecture of cathedrals and the ambiguity of dreams. The voices, entirely synthetic yet uncannily human, chant and intone in invented tongues, blurring the line between the spiritual and the surreal.
The album’s cover, a self-portrait of Papiro’s father disguised as a saint, sets the tone for a record that is both reverent and playful. Each track unfolds like a liturgical movement, with shimmering drones, spectral harmonies, and moments of gentle humor. There are echoes of Eliane Radigue’s meditative electronics and the mystical kitsch of Mort Garson’s Black Mass, but Papiro’s vision is uniquely his own—intimate, ambiguous, and deeply evocative.
Teopatia is more than an exercise in style: it is a sonic ritual, a reflection on faith and illusion, and a highlight of the Planam catalogue. For listeners drawn to the mysterious and the uncanny, this LP is an invitation to a world where the sacred and the synthetic meet.