Part 2

Many writers have claimed that as soon as they enter into the process, certain aspects of the narrative are out of their hands. Do you like to keep strict control or is there a sense of following things where they lead you?

I am very open to letting things unfold naturally and allowing the process to guide me. I enjoy embracing unpredictability, as I believe it keeps the work alive and dynamic.

Rather than maintaining strict control, I prefer to follow where the music or creative flow takes me, allowing space for unexpected discoveries.

There are many descriptions of the creative state. How would you describe it for you personally? Is there an element of spirituality to what you do?

Absolutely. For me, music is a religion—a practice that has accompanied me for as long as I can remember. It is a space of transformation, where I can change and where the music changes with me.

It is also a place of care, devotion, and surrender—a refuge that gives meaning to my creative process.

Once a piece is finished, how important is it for you to let it lie and evaluate it later on? How much improvement and refinement do you personally allow until you're satisfied with a piece? What does this process look like in practise?

After I close the creative process, I always need some time—be it days, weeks, or even months, depending on the project—to listen again with fresh ears and move on to the next stage. I need to “forget” how it sounds and allow the intense, obsessive phase of creation to shift and mutate, bringing in a new focus and perspective.

For some pieces, particularly those that require a high level of detail, I work on a micro level, refining elements through post-production and extensive rehearsals.

On the other hand, for more open, improvisational music, the process is about selecting the strongest parts and ideas, publishing them, and then focusing on how they will be presented live. This often involves considering the dramaturgical aspects of the concert and collaborating with other artists—such as visual artists, costume designers, lighting designers, and specialists in sound spatialisation—to shape the overall experience.

How do you think the meaning, or effect of an individual piece is enhanced, clarified or possibly contrasted by the EPs, or albums it is part of? Does each piece, for example, need to be consistent with the larger whole?

Yes, absolutely. I aim for each EP or album to have a conceptual dramaturgy, a narrative that ties everything together, especially for my solo work or my band projects.

However, sometimes I release albums that focus more on noise or a specific genre, particularly when collaborating with other artists. In these cases, it depends on how we think and align with the artist I'm working with.

The meaning or effect of each piece may be more flexible, and it’s about finding a balance and harmony in the collaboration.

What's your take on the role and importance of production, including mixing and mastering for you personally?

It depends on the project. I prefer to work with the same person for mixing, and for the last 10 years, I’ve collaborated closely with Colombian producer, composer, and DJ Carlos Quebrada, aka Genosidra. We’ve known each other for a long time, so we can work together very fluidly during the mixing and post-production stages of my projects.

For certain music, like my latest album, which was acoustic with no post-production or overlapping recordings, the process was easier. We almost didn’t need to mix much; it was more about listening and understanding the dramaturgy of the songs together, selecting the favourites, and then finding a skilled mastering engineer to finish it.

What is the balance between the composition and the arrangement (performance)?

I have different kinds of freedoms in both processes.

When I compose, I follow a specific creative approach for that moment, and then, when recording, I decide how many times I want to record the same piece or whether the music will involve post-production, allowing for the addition of layers after the initial steps.

For the performance, I also have a different creative process to develop how to play the music I’ve composed. For example, with my latest album, I’m essentially creating a remix to perform live versions, because I composed the music for a site-specific location, where the resonances of the space played a key role.

Performing in a concert hall or venue changes the music completely. The balance between composition and arrangement/performance is a mix of working as hard as possible on both aspects, ensuring that both the composition and the performance are fully developed.

After finishing a piece or album and releasing something into the world, there can be a sense of emptiness. Can you relate to this – and how do you return to the state of creativity after experiencing it?

I have a lot of energy and, since I was young, I’ve been constantly stimulated and inspired.

I have my band Blanco Teta, a noise-postpunk band, and we tour around the world throughout the year, composing all the time. So, when I finish working on new material for my solo projects, I focus on composing for my band and other collaborations. For example, in April, I will release a new vinyl with a Swiss electronic composer and artist called Hora Lunga. I like having different projects to avoid getting bored with myself.



I also enjoy taking some months off from creating, just chilling, listening, and reflecting on all the music and performances I’ve been working on. During this time, I engage in artist residencies to read and conduct more theoretical artistic research.

I would love to know a little about the feedback you've received from listeners or critics about what they thought some of your songs are about or the impact it had on them – have there been “misunderstandings” or did you perhaps even gain new “insights?”

Oh, that's a nice question! I’ve received amazing comments about the singles I released from the new album.

I also hosted a listening party last month in Buenos Aires with an incredible sound system, attended by more than 100 people, and it was a very unique experience for me. People were incredibly emotional, some were even close to tears, and they gave me fascinating feedback, often connecting the music to spiritual and transformative themes.

This is my first album that’s more "ambient" or "minimalism". My previous work was more extreme noise and experimental music, but this one evokes deeper, more nostalgic emotions.

Creativity can reach many different corners of our lives. Do you personally feel as though writing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more “mundane” tasks?

It’s completely connected because composing new music is a channel of communication to express personal feelings, and this is influenced by the context in which we live—politics, relationships, and even mundane situations, like making a cup of coffee, and how it’s made for you.

I lead a very intense and chaotic life, moving across different continents, dealing with migrant challenges, and being part of a queer community, which is extremely important to me.

Sometimes, when I return to my home country, I feel as though I’m from nowhere, and at other times, from everywhere. It’s hard to explain, but I feel that the music I create is deeply affected by this and all the aspects of it.