With “Miscommunication (Lost In Transmission),” Irem Bekter transforms confusion into something rhythmic, theatrical, and strangely joyful. Built around an off-kilter groove and layered with English, French, and Spanish dialogue, the track captures the absurdity of people missing each other emotionally while desperately trying to connect. The result is playful, fragmented, and deeply human ; a song that embraces contradiction rather than resolving it.
The single arrives as part of This Winding Road, Bekter’s first album composed entirely of original material, where influences from Istanbul, Argentina, England, and Montréal coexist naturally across genre, language, and atmosphere. Drawing on her background in theatre, dance, and film, Bekter approaches songwriting cinematically, allowing rhythm, movement, and improvisation to shape the emotional world of each track.
In this interview, Bekter discusses multilingual songwriting, creative chaos, collaboration with Akawui and producer Jean Massicotte, and why miscommunication itself can sometimes become a form of connection.
“Miscommunication (Lost In Transmission)” leans into linguistic confusion—what first sparked the idea to make miscommunication the central theme?
I was having fun with the groove I had created on a drum machine, mimicking in a humorous way couples blaming each other, often because of insecurities or imagined situations that don’t really exist. From there came the idea of miscommunication: the excuses people make when they don’t really want to listen, or only hear what they want to hear. I found something both absurd and very human in that dynamic, and it became the central theme of the song.
Was the multilingual structure of the song planned from the beginning, or did it evolve organically during writing and recording?
It evolved very organically. Working in multiple languages is natural for me because my life has unfolded across different cultures. The song itself almost demanded that movement between languages. Sometimes a phrase arrived more truthfully in English, sometimes in French, and once Akawui came into the song, his rap sounded so great in Spanish that it naturally became part of the song’s identity. The final dialogue between us was recorded in three languages; English, French, and Spanish. The English version appears on the album and the official videoclip, while the French and Spanish versions will be discovered soon in the upcoming videoclips directed by Damian Siqueiros.
How did the collaboration with Akawui come about, and what did his Spanish rap bring emotionally or rhythmically to the track?
I really admire Akawui’s creativity and presence. I wanted someone who could bring another energy and perspective into the piece, and I was also interested in his Chilean and Indigenous Mapuche background. We talked about the project, then I sent him the track with ideas and gave him the space to create his rap freely. His contribution in Spanish brings a contrasting layer of unconditional love, almost like a desperate Shakespearean character entering the song. Rhythmically, hearing a rap flow inside this 7-beat groove brought something playful, unexpected, and alive to the track.
The song feels intentionally fragmented—how did you decide what to reveal and what to leave unresolved?
I wanted the song to feel slightly unstable, as if signals were crossing and meanings slipping away. Life rarely resolves itself neatly, especially communication! I preferred to leave spaces, interruptions, and unfinished thoughts, nothing polished, almost like an internal conversation, with voices unfolding inside someone’s head. The listener has to navigate it a bit, almost like tuning into a transmission that keeps shifting frequencies. One thing for sure, recording this track was a lot fun.
What does “communication failure” mean to you personally in the context of relationships or creative collaboration?
For me, communication failure is often less about language itself and more about listening, assumptions, fear, or projection. Even with the best intentions, people can completely miss one another. But interestingly, in creative collaboration, misunderstandings can sometimes lead somewhere unexpected and artistically alive. So I don’t see miscommunication only as something negative. Even when communication “fails,” something real can still emerge underneath the confusion.
Can you walk us through how Jean Massicotte’s arrangement shaped the final form of the track?
Jean Massicotte played an essential role in shaping the sonic architecture of the piece. He understood immediately that the song needed tension, movement, and contrast rather than a conventional structure. He helped create that balance between groove, space, fragmentation, and atmosphere. His experience as both a producer and film composer helped define the track almost like a scene unfolding, with constant shifts in mood, rhythm, and texture.
The instrumentation feels both traditional and electronic—how did you approach that balance in production?
The track really began with a drum machine groove, which became the raw pulse at the centre of the song. I kept the drum machine as the foundation and gradually built everything around it; the electric guitar, the keyboards, bass, percussion, body percussion, and voices, creating layers and textures around the groove. What I like is how the electronic and organic elements blend together throughout the track.
How does this single reflect the wider themes of This Winding Road as an album?
This Winding Road explores themes like displacement, resilience, transformation, love, memory, and human connection. “Miscommunication (Lost In Transmission)” reflects one part of that journey: the difficulty of truly hearing and understanding one another, despite our desire to connect, but also the ability to laugh at ourselves in the middle of all that confusion. As the lyrics started appearing, almost driven by the rhythm itself, Ionesco’s The Bald Soprano popped into my head, and the song naturally took on something of the spirit of the theatre of the absurd. The song moves between humour, vulnerability, and playfulness, while bringing together different voices, rhythms, and cultural influences into the same musical space.
Was there a specific emotional tone you wanted listeners to sit with after hearing the track—confusion, playfulness, melancholy, something else?
Probably a sense of playfulness and humour more than anything else. I want people to have fun with the rhythm and smile at the absurdity of how we misunderstand each other. The song stays light and playful, but underneath there’s still something very human about it – how fragile communication can be and how often we overcomplicate things in our heads.
If “Miscommunication (Lost In Transmission)” represents one stop on This Winding Road, what kind of “place” does it sit in the album’s journey?
It sits somewhere in the middle of the journey – a playful but slightly chaotic space where voices cross, meanings shift, and people struggle to truly hear one another. In the flow of This Winding Road, it brings humour and movement, while also reflecting the confusion, projections, and misunderstandings that are part of being human.
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