Hello. Good evening. We are on the Red Bull
Music Academy lecture couch.
What’s the lesson about?
This night we will share with you, in this
great place, a talk, a conversation, with
a singer, a songwriter, an actress who has
conquered the world from here, perhaps quietly
and secretly. This round of applause is for
Juana Molina.
Thank you very much.
Great. The album [listening] will come almost
at the end.
But I wonder if you saw some of the...
It’s no longer there!
I know. That’s odd. Then we can move on.
I wanted to ask about the specifics of recording Halo.
It was not recorded where you
usually record your albums.
Yes, it was after a year and a half I spent
working at home with many technical problems,
which Odín Schwartz helped me to fix. He
solved many problems that came through.
It was his idea to go record in a studio. “Come
on, Juana, cut the crap, let’s go to a studio.”
And I was like, “No, I like it here at home.”
“Come on, let’s go to a studio.”
So, things went on gradually... [_brief applause_]
That was Odín applauding himself.
So, at first I resisted the idea, because I’m used
to working alone and entering some kind of tunnel,
where I am some kind of guide and
tourist of what is happening.
Then I couldn’t get there, because every time I 
entered the tunnel something would break or... enough!
So we went to the studio.
Finally one day, testing some guitar gear
at Eduardo Bergallo’s studio, we were playing
really loud and I said, “Wouldn’t it be
great if you could play this way?”
So Bergallo and Odín
simultaneously said, “Let’s go to a studio!”
So the deal was, I asked him to call Sonic
Ranch, which was the place he proposed.
I said, “OK, call and check if it’s possible.”
And it was, so I decided to go into that terrifying
experience of recording with other people
next to me.
We should tell our friends here that your
studio is quite...
Unequipped.
Unequipped and isolated. You live in the suburbs.
Your studio is actually in the center of your
house, among your plants, so it was a change
also in this regard.
We were surrounded by nature there too, a
different kind of nature, which was a torrid
desert. Skin, hair, everything gets really
bad. After some days there you dream of bathtubs
filled with oil. “Please, someone moisturize
me.” But, beyond that, the studio was amazing,
because we had it just for us. It was not
from 8AM to 2PM. The door was opened.
We stayed as much as we wanted, and the variety
of instruments they offered was huge.
We couldn’t get to try them all because 
it would have taken all three weeks.
So during the first days we chose equipment, 
we chose the stuff we would work with.
It was a bit hard for me at first – assistants
were checking their mobiles – and I thought,
“Why do I need people here while I try to
come up with an idea?” Finally I managed
to withdraw from it all and started to enter
the “studio” mode, which is completely
different, and something different happened.
Instead of going deep into the ideas that came up,
I spread to the sides. I got a whole
range of new ideas, in which I did not deepen,
but I managed to store. We stored many timbres,
new sounds, ideas... we recorded non-stop.
We sometimes recorded a song for 40 minutes,
so it was hard to edit it later, because you
need to edit several 40-minute tracks then
figure it out. It was a different experience,
but I’m glad I did it, so I’m thankful
for their idea.
And for their persistence, right?
Yes.
And the process at the studio, preceded by
the usual writing process at home,
required long working days? What time do you 
feel is your best to work?
At home?
Yes, at home.
When night falls. Something happens at night.
It’s quiet. Birds go to sleep,
so I don’t have birds singing in every song.
How about dogs?
There are fewer dogs too. There’s less of
everything.
It works better for me acoustically and there’s
also that quiet... well, it’s the night.
The night atmosphere is different. Later on,
once I’ve made progress in the process,
I can work at any time. I’m really involved
and hardly notice the time at all.
But for the writing moment I like everyone to be asleep,
that dreamlike thing,
which is also the state
I like to reach.
I think we all know that dreamlike state by
sharing your music. What is it like being
in the studio and holding that feeling you’ve
been working with? Is it like daydreaming?
Is it much more mechanical?
I always try to describe it in a different
way, and the conclusion is quite the same,
which is when I’m starting it’s 
like this here
with this play/pause button, tempo, on/off,
fader, screen, whatever. Then as I go deeper,
there’s suddenly a “bloop” – and I
step like Alice through the studio.
Then the abstract side of music appears. Although I
am playing and I’m using equipment,
it all disappears and images appear. The place 
is always quite dark. Some kind of shadows.
That’s what I see, together with some doodles. And
as I play, those doodles happen and I follow them.
That’s why I talked about being guide
and tourist. Because I’m playing it,
but I feel I’m following the sound. 
I’m following orders from the sound.
That’s why working at Sonic Ranch was so great. 
The textures that appeared there would not have appeared
elsewhere. So, with new instruments, new ideas
and arrangements, new album, all different.
Was there any instrument that fascinated you
so much you wish you could take it?
Sure. That’s my usual mistake – wanting
something and not doing it.
That’s classic me. I wanted a
Moog Prodigy,
that was really… “So, this love was 
born…” Really. It was something…
“I love you.” “Me too,” it said. 
It loved me too, I know it did. It loved me.
It was mutual.
It was beautiful.
We will listen to it.
So I quickly looked and there was one on sale. And I didn’t buy it! I didn’t buy it!
Then Ernesto Romeo, who knows all about these
things, told me, “If you had bought it,
it would not have been the same. Because these
are brothers. Watch out! It will be similar.
It’ll be a relative. But it won’t be the
same.” I think it’d have been quite good anyway.
I feel really attracted to everything
that produces bass sounds. And I strongly
reject everything that produces treble sounds.
So the mixing process is difficult, because
I can understand this sound but people cannot.
Because it’s this, and another conversation
like this one, and so on.
The gullet.
So I’m really enjoying it and the rest of
the team says, “This is impossible to understand.”
So they apply mid range and treble, and I have
to deal with it because… they are right.
I can imagine. Is it difficult to mediate?
Mediate?
I mean, like a third party. Who balances the
situation? Is it Odín?
No, no. It’s an eternal dispute. I think
they change it when I can’t see them.
Then I say, “Did you increase
the mids?” “Just a tiny bit.” “Lower them.”
And then it’s constantly like,
“Hey! Look!”
Then they raise the mids. “But it needs
boost.”
“Leave it. Better too little than
too much.”
That’s what they say?
No! That’s me! Better too little than too
much if I’m not that sure.
Eventually the final mix comes. What is that
moment like?
After ending this album, I decided – and
I hope I can keep my promise – that next
time I record an album I’ll leave it for
a month at least. I’ll leave it macerating.
Then I’ll listen to it. Then everything’s
clear. After working so, so much, you are
sometimes haunted by a sound and lose theoverall perspective. These are just details.
But I’d like to deal with them keeping a
cool head. We have our breaks. Eduardo says
“OK. Let’s stop for an hour, grab a bite,
rest our ears.” But your mind’s still there.
An hour is not enough. It takes longer.
What would be the ideal situation to listen
to an album like Halo?
Headphones...
Headphones.
Good headphones, a good stereo... Many times
I work with headphones. I do it specially
when I need such volume to clearly hear what’s
going on, and maybe the sound is not that 
great at home.
It’s true we didn’t use headphones
that much this time, because the sound was
great at the studio. But you have to be in
a very dry place. Glass, glass, glass…
Then you have an… idea…
A clearer idea?
I can’t find the word. What?
You got help.
But I can’t hear it.
OK, so the idea is good headphones.
I wanted to do this lecture with headphones
but it was quite complicated. I wanted everyone
to have good headphones, and then I thought,
where would they plug them in?
There must be a way. I think it just takes time 
and money to plan it.
Next time... now you know what we’ll do
after Halo.
We could tell everyone to bring their headphones,
but they might have those mobile phone ones
with no bass sounds.
Now there’s even wireless headphones…
OK. Next time we’ll use wireless headphones.
Deal.
And I can knead the mix for you.
Speaking about discography, you said that
Segundo, your 2001 album…
2000.
2000? Why do I read Wikipedia?
Wikipedia says 2003. The English release was
in 2003.
That’s it.
But they didn’t print “Copyright 2000,”
so I have to deal with the consequences.
Sources are essential. OK then, so when was Segundo
released?
It was recorded in 98 and 99 and was released
in 2000.
And you once said that that process of recording
for two years paved the way for you to know
what you really wanted to do with music.
Exactly. Because the experience usually was
what I described earlier. I entered some kind of…
For starters, I didn’t know I was
making an album when I recorded Segundo.
I was making a demo. In those days demos came
before albums. I think some people still make demos.
I worked really hard on each thing.
And at some point I thought, “How will I
manage to do it all again and get the same
results? This is the album!” Then I started
to despair because some songs were really
badly recorded. I didn’t have a clue.
It was all recorded at this volume with a…
whooshing sound, real crap. 
So I recorded several songs again,
and the result was cold as ice. 
There was nothing there.
So I chose to leave it badly recorded.
At that time I hadn’t heard about equalizers,
and that’s quite important in a recording.
The process was just you at home...
The process was microphone, record. 
Instrument, record. At home it was just
rec and, “Is it recorded?”
“Yes.” “Done.” And so I went on.
My daughter was very young, so I had to work at night. 
It was impossible to work when she was awake.
So I stayed up working until the wee hours,
and I eventually fell asleep recording some
keyboards. Really! I’m not trying to look
cool or have an anecdote. I realized I was
falling asleep, but I kept on recording. So
the next day, I listened to it and…
Because when I fell asleep, it was me who fell asleep,
so whatever had to happen actually happened,
and there was no finger pointing at me saying,
“What you’re doing is a piece of crap.
That’s all you got?” Because this jury
of censors which drags me through life telling
me what to do, all of them were knocked out.
Then things appeared and, listening to them
the next day, the question was, “How did
this happen?”
The dreamlike state again, right? Working
at some level of...
Yes! I played like I was following orders
from the instruments, from the sounds.
They took me. “Segundo” is full of things,
there is a lot of pitch bending,
non-stop pitch bending.
That was when you fell on the pitch and went
back.
I’d suddenly say, “I have to go to bed,”
and fall asleep. That was impossible to reproduce.
That’s why I decided it would be the album
and not the demo. And I think in that album,
which is endless! It lasts 75 minutes
– I think there lies the seeds
of all that came later.
So it was in that passage between dreams and
nodding off where you also found the setting
for your recordings. I mean, today it’s
quite common to see a live performance
with a loop station.
Loop stations didn’t exist yet. They didn’t
exist at all, worldwide, back then.
True! Delay pedals and many things existed,
but when I started playing live, for Segundo
and Tres cosas… with Tres cosas,
which is from 2002, I started to play more
seriously. So I had two options: I could either
use a backing track, which was a bummer to me,
I had already tried it and by the third
show I wanted to kill myself. I was like,
“Did I close the fridge? I think I forgot
to call Camila!
No way! I have to call her
when I get home.” It was all mechanical,
just death all around. Then I started using
sequences, which was a feature the keyboard
offered. I could sequence some musical beds.
So I sequenced some stuff, but it was the same.
And one day everything broke, everything
breaks around me usually. It happened just
half an hour before the show. So at the sound
check I said, “Let’s try this song without
the sequence… Not too bad. Let’s try this
one…” Anyway, the audience was like 12 people,
not 10,000. I tried. “Let’s see
if it works.”
It was all in line with my experience.
So besides that option, which would not work,
I could hire a group of musicians who would
have to play the same thing all the time.
But I thought, “If they are good musicians
they’ll get bored playing the same thing
all the time. And that boredom will show.
People will notice they don’t enjoy playing
so I will feel uncomfortable.” I kept thinking
what they would think, without asking anyone
if they wanted to do it. Maybe somebody did!
I never asked. I thought, “If they are good,
they’ll want to play something else.
And I will not. I will have to use a whip.”
I was in conflict with the idea of,
“you do this, you do this” without making others
feel bad. So I thought, “What I need is a tool
that starts recording when I step on the pedal, 
and when I step on it again, loops that.”
So I went to every store, international
stores in New York, Tokyo, L.A., Paris, London.
I had the phrase totally rehearsed. “Don’t
you have a tool that starts recording when
you push and when you push again stops and…?”
And I waited.
“I don’t think so.” So I’d leave, quite frustrated,
but I still persevered. Then one day I entered
a store in New York, it was by that street
full of music stores. “Don’t you have
a tool that…?” “We’ve just received
a pedal which, I think, does what you’re
describing, I think.” I couldn’t believe
it. “Shall we try it?” “Sure.”
She took a microphone and plugged it into the
device. “Try it.”
“I cannot believe it!” “Yes, I think 
you can record it again and...”
I was shocked.
You took it immediately.
I bought another one three days later. 
I couldn’t believe it!
I had spent years looking 
for it! Years!
Amazing.
It was a miracle! It was a miracle! Besides,
I might have suggested, “Hey, how are you?
Listen, I’m Juana Molina. Juana... Molina.
M-O...” But you need to be someone to ask
for something. I didn’t think of asking
some nerd to do it. He might have done it.
I didn’t think of it. But that’s what
I found, and I started to play immediately
with those two, which were not synchronized.
So I looped it all and just prayed.
And I guess they didn’t offer 
such fidelity as they do now.
Audio fidelity?
I mean, response to the gesture.
In fact you needed to play it a bit earlier. 
For instance,the first loop was like… then it went fine.
I never knew why the first loop went wrong and
the second was OK. Then I had to learn that
mistake in every song, so it’d turn out
OK. And the other station, which looped other
things, I sometimes had to turn it on and
off, press play and stop during the whole song
so they would go together. When I started
it was like, I wanted to record in the middle
of a phrase. “I wanna escape this
mess falling down ...” Then I did…
I couldn’t separate foot, mouth, 
voice, head. It was
all like, “Now!” From the waist there
was nothing. There was nothing. So I practiced
a lot. Then one thing led to another and I
started to write that way too. But I already
had the loop mode before… the loop station.
I didn’t invent the loop, I mean...
I used to play for hours and it enveloped me like
a mantra, and all the tapes I recorded when
I was 18 or 20 are called Inventions.
Invention 1, Invention 2,
Invention 3, “Invention 4”, and so on.
90-minute tapes?
90-minute tapes. The same thing during 45
minutes. A guitar going…
I kept playing it over and over inside my
head, I was afraid of losing something essential.
So I recorded until the tape jumped out. Then
my invention was over.
And you listened to it?
I did. Then I got a 4-track portable recorder,
where songs lasted 45 minutes too. But those
were not songs but inventions. Inventions
Vol. 2, 3... All the songs in Rara came
from those inventions. And those “invention“
tapes are much more like the albums I did
later on than Rara.
Because a producer participated in Rara?
Right. And I was very insecure. I thought
someone had to tell me how to make an album.
Someone had to tell me, “This is how you
make an album”, and I’d go, “OK.”
Then I did the album as they told me to. But
then, though the album sounds great
and everything’s swell…
The producer of Rara was Gustavo Santaolalla,
who heard that Juana wanted to make an album…
No! I sent him my demo, because I really liked
one of his albums, called Santaolalla.
It had nothing to do with my stuff, but I
found it very authentic and powerful.
When I knew he was here I wanted to meet him, and
brought him three songs. And he wanted to
produce the album. He said, “First of all,
you need a band,” and I said,
“I don’t have a band.” So he kind of led me to what
was fashionable then, which was alternative rock.
And the album is good, but it lacks
that inner world that the others have.
When you talked about loops – I’ll rewind
over that matter – once I read you referred
to the loop as a wheel, which obviously is
not the real meaning, but I liked it because
a wheel goes somewhere.
Sure. They talk about loops as a matter of
repetition. And I think repetition in a loop
would be a loosened wheel, passing by the
same place once and again. And what I enjoy
is when that loop, which is a wheel, sets
on the road and moves forward. So the wheel
moves forward doing the same, but the landscape
changes. And that modifies the wheel.
You are in a loop, but above it other things happen,
and you’re on a little horse, discovering
worlds around you... I go with that wheel.
That’s the trip where you are the guide.
Exactly.
This might be the moment for you to tell us
about influences. You also have a theory about
influences, right? Juana grew up in a very
musical house. Not just because her father,
Horacio Molina, is a well-known tango singer.
Your mom, Chunchuna Villafañe, is an actress,
but she is also super melomaniac.
She is super melomaniac, even today.
So she played records when you were a kid.
They played music the entire day. The whole
day there was some record sounding. Lots of
jazz, bossa nova, some classical music, that
was less than the rest but they played certain
pieces, and what else? Of course they bought
Beatles albums. Something funny happened to
me with the Beatles. Our first album was Abbey
Road. Sorry, it wasn’t Abbey Road,
it was Sgt. Pepper. So I used to listen
to Sgt. Pepper, then – I don’t know
the order, we’d need a Beatles expert. I
knew those albums very well. Then at my cousins’
I saw “Help”, for example. “Great! Another
Beatles album!” So I played it...
“Wow, The Beatles really plummeted!” I thought
that was what they did after. So I thought,
“What you’re doing now is not good, guys.”
And nobody told me, because being a kid
you don’t ask. My cousins and I were eight or
nine years old and they had the complete collection
of the Beatles’ albums. I don’t really
know those songs because I never had those albums
Not Help nor Rubber Soul,
which is great. I did have the White Album.
Is it before Sgt. Pepper? No. It’s
previous. Is it? No!
It’s subsequent!
They’re worse than Wikipedia!
That makes sense. It’s subsequent. So I
had Sgt. Pepper, the White Album,
Yellow Submarine, Abbey Road.
We did not have Revolver. We didn’t
have the best one. That one made me jealous
of my cousins, because they had it and I thought,
“This one is good.” But telling my parents
to buy it didn’t cross my mind.
I had to go to my cousins’ to listen to Revolver.
Music would arrive home or you’d hear it
there.
It just didn’t cross my mind, buying a record,
or asking for it. It was a different time too,
when things came gradually. It was an
album every three months. So for three months,
six months or a year, I’d listen to a record
which I really liked. When I was 12
my dad bought me Larks’ Tongues in Aspic
by King Crimson, and that day I became somebody.
That’s an influence.
Sure! I’d take a speaker, put it here,
take the other speaker, put it here, I’d
lie on the floor, set the needle... and die.
I died listening to all that. We wanted to 
play an amazing part of this album
here today, but it’s nowhere.
Not on YouTube, nowhere.
They kept it all for themselves. There’s
nothing anywhere. That album is not online.
I always tell this anecdote, because I think
it’s amazing how perceptions and feelings work.
There was a part of a song which started
with some guitars. It turned more and more
dense, then suddenly a window
with a curtain appeared, together with the
shape of a couple. She was blaming him, whom
we didn’t hear. And I heard…
Always at that part this lady 
appeared with all those problems.
You heard and saw that?
Sure. That part arrived together with the
lady, the curtain, the window, the darkness,
me outside, always the same. Years later,
many years later, when CDs appeared, I immediately
bought Larks’ Tongues in Aspic remastered.
I bought it, put it on, and when it was time
for the lady to appear, what appeared instead
was…
A solo.
Some gentleman playing a solo. I guess they
thought, “This is not clear, it sounds like
a lady arguing by a window. Let’s make clear
it is a guitar.” They ruined the song for me.
It just turned into, “Uh, it’s just
a Fripp solo.” There was nothing interesting
about it. I just listen to the vinyl of that
album. Because there are all the paths, everything.
Every time you listen is like when you take
the bus... no matter the transportation,
the point is you don’t have to drive, so you
can watch. So let’s say you take the bus
to school. You see the red awning, the green
door, the store, that traffic light, a statue,
and no matter if you make that trip 200 times
a year, you will always see the red awning,
the store, the statue... you don’t see the
rest. As if we’d draw a path when listening
or watching, and would always pay attention
to the same things. Something will always
catch you and make you listen. I like the
music to be that, and instruments to be what
that word indicates – a means to reach something
general, which is music. So I don’t like
it when you say, “Great bass!” “That’s
some guitar!” “Spectacular keyboard!”
I don’t like it when that happens. I like
something to happen. I want the lady by the
window, and other things to take me away from
those guys there playing like assholes.
It happens to everyone, they all see ladies
and windows, or something like that, when
they listen to Juana. We are heading towards
Halo. But first I’d like to ask you
about the live performance, 
being a shy person, right?
Right.
And how were those...
I also have the theory that shyness is the
other side of vanity. “Oh, no, I’m so ashamed!”
“Why so ashamed?” “Go sing!” “Cut
the crap!” Am I right? That’s how it is,
I have to admit it. In my early years, once,
I was playing at... I forget the name of this
little pub, by Serrano square. And there were
people yelling, “Do the Korean impression!”
I remember feeling so hot with the sweater
I was wearing, but my clothes underneath were
not OK. So I just kept sweating, drops falling from my head as people screamed,
“Play some character, Juana!” And trying to balance
it all I was like, “Well, this is the musical
character.” And my fingers, all the time…
I was terrified! And some kid, sitting in
the first row like this…
said, “Sing, Juana.” He spoke to me with
such authority, so seriously, that he put
me in my place. He slapped me. Do what you
have to do and cut the crap. So I was like,
“Oh, he’s right!” And I started singing.
I was doing it a little better and also felt
that someone cared – he was not asking me
to play a character. I think there were eight
of them here, and 10 over there, asking for
characters – the Korean woman, the cosmetologist…
And that voice helped you...
He helped me. We became friends later on.
Those are small slaps that put you in your
place. People need someone to put them in
place when they are out of place.
Once in Chicago I went on the stage and it was
as if some kid had gone there to arrange some wire.
Just the same. The place was crowded
but not for me. I was opening, so I went on
the stage and I saw there was no audience,
I was outraged. “I’m leaving. Fuck them all.
What is this?”. And instead of leaving,
I started with “Martín Fierro,”
and being on a keyboard, something more 
distant, your fingers don’t shake so much,
you lean on the keys so the keyboard
sort of supports you. So I started.
I entered that playing trip, the world disappeared and
the show was great, leaving aside if people
was listening. At some point it was like an
insight. I thought, “There is nothing, nothing
you can do to get these people’s attention.
Nothing. So, do what you have to do.
And that’s all.”
And they will be there.
No! I don’t know what will happen. After
a few songs there was some kind of attention,
but the main thing is that I managed to stop
thinking what others would think.
Like the joke about the jack, right? I’m sure nobody
knows it, or many. The one about the jack.
I’m sure somebody knows it, or many. 
The one about the jack.
But I would have to say a curse word at the
end!
Tell it!
It’s really long, but I’ll sum it up.
Then you tell it properly. It’s about this
guy whose tire goes flat. Now don’t start,
“That one, huh?” I’ll tell it anyway.
He’s just surrounded by darkness, right
in the middle of the Pampas, absolutely nothing
around him, with a flat tire. “Fuck it!
I can’t believe it! What am I gonna do now?”
He gets out the car and starts looking around.
And over there, far, far away, he sees this
tiny light. “Hey! That must be a house!
I’m heading there! What if they are sleeping?
Perhaps they are in trouble, or the light
is on but they’re sleeping, or they’re
doing something and I’ll interrupt them
just to borrow a jack to lift the car this
late... the fact is 
I need it, I can’t stay here all night.”
So he keeps walking as he thinks about everything
that will happen to him. “Maybe they are
having some romantic action and I interrupt
them. They will hate me!” And he keeps thinking
as he approaches the house. He finally knocks
and a man opens the door: “Hello, how can
I help you?” “You know what? Stick the
jack up your ass!”
That’s what it was. We are almost…
It’s too long to work.
We’re leaving. We’ll leave you all with
the music. We’re finishing up.
Are they making this gesture?
I saw a light passing by.
They do that a lot on TV.
Yes! You know about that. I saw a light. Juana
Molina will soon be presenting Halo
on May 17th at the Niceto Club, but you will get
to listen to it before that.
Yes. You will not hear the whole album. I
scammed you. It’s too long!
First I’ll show a video, which some might have 
already seen. I think it’s awesome.
But you won’t see it on YouTube.
No, you will watch it here, on this beautiful
screen. We hope we can watch it properly.
And when we hear the album later, we won’t
listen to that song. So I had my doubts, because
there will be a song next to another one which
is not the perfect match. It will not achieve
the effect it had in 
the mix, when we said,
“This song goes after this one.
I’m not sure. Yes? No? It goes here!”
That song won’t be there, so it will be
kind of weird. And I’m not going to play either…
What? They don’t want it! It’s not my decision!
It wasn’t me, it was the production. 
They said, “The album is
too long, let’s play it shorter, 
because people
are going to get fed up.” No idea how many
songs they took out. We also took out the
song we used in the promo. And there’s another
one missing, right?
There were three.
We had to choose…
We had to choose…
The order came from above.
So…
That’s it.
No more, no less… Applause for Juana Molina please.
This was a Red Bull Music Academy lecture.
