Asteartea
What you don’t see when you hear Bea Asurmendi’s “Asteartea” is the world behind it, a world that feels lived in, not constructed. There’s something quietly radical in how Bea approaches her work. She isn’t just making music, she’s folding her life into it, with a level of honesty that’s rare and disarming. You can feel it in the way every note is given space to breathe, and in how the album holds complexity without ever sounding dense. There’s lightness here, not from simplicity, but from clarity, the sound of someone who knows exactly what they want to say and refuses to overstate it.
“Asteartea” began during weekly women’s circles, where mythology and shared stories became tools for emotional unravelling. The sessions took place every Tuesday, the Basque word for which gives the album its name, and that ritualistic intimacy runs through the record. Recorded mostly live in London studios, it captures moments as they happened, with Bea singing in Basque, Spanish and English across rich acoustic textures. The influence of her roots is there, but never pinned down; folk and jazz flow into each other without hierarchy. It’s not about fusion for effect, but about honouring where the songs come from and where they need to go. “Asteartea” doesn’t aim to impress. It invites you in, and if you’re listening closely, it stays with you.