Bat For Lashes

Bat For Lashes

Photo by Logan White

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Exploring Bat For Lashes' Cinema Of The Mind

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Speaking to the Recording Academy, Natasha Khan outlines the vampiric themes and Reagan-era sounds on her sixth studio album, 'Lost Girls'
Bryan Reesman
GRAMMYs
Sep 9, 2019 - 11:58 am

Natasha Khan likes to shake things up from time to time. That's why, in 2017, she made the move from London to the sunnier environs of Los Angeles. But loving the City of Angels from afar and living there proved to be two different things, and the singer/composer became swept up by both its beautiful elements (sunny skies, desert landscapes, the Mexican culture of her new 'hood) and its darker side (homelessness and politics). After a month in SoCal, she began to savor the distinct differences between the West Coast and Europe even as she grappled with L.A.'s dichotomies.

Khan was also feeling romantic: she had fallen in love, acquired a dog, and felt liberated after ending her four-album tenure with Parlophone/EMI, a contract that she sounds happy to have left. “I was just living this lovely life having been free,” she recalls. “I just felt like this whole new cycle began. I wanted the [new] album to have that liberated love theme in it as well.”

When she initially moved West, Khan had not planned to continue with music as her alter ego Bat For Lashes, instead focusing on possible screenwriting and film scoring projects. (She has directed short films before.) She met with various production companies, and one of her ideas centered on the female vampire tale Lost Girls about a teen girl named Nikki Pink who falls in love and is on the run from a vampire girl gang. This dramatic story, inspired by her love for '80s teen fantasy movies like E.T. and The Goonies, launched a musical journey with producer/writer Charles Scott IV after they originally recorded the album's opening track, “Kids In The Dark,” for the Stephen King series Castle Rock on Hulu. The duo ended up collaborating for a year and a half on her fifth and latest album, Lost Girls (AWAL Recordings), which has a deliciously retro sonic flavor.

"I've always used Junos and Prophets and all those old '80 synths,” says Khan. "I was trying to make this '80s but in that cinematic, atmospheric way, and combine it with the more gothic Bat For Lashes sound." The combination clicks. Lost Girls lovingly invokes the '80s in many ways, including the lush synth and thick drum sounds throughout, the sultry saxophone and Cure-like guitar on the instrumental "Vampires," even the backwards vocals on "Peach Sky."

"To me, the backwards vocals sound like the Japanese hologram from the new Blade Runner," offers Khan. "Other people have said it's like David Lynch and the Red Room [in Twin Peaks] with the dwarf talking backwards. Everyone's got their own interpretation. But I think sonically I've been a bit braver and a bit less worried about using things that are well-known references. I always shied away from that. But then I thought about rock bands or just any kind of bands that have used a guitar a billion times or a phase pedal a billion times. I love saxophone solos. And why not? I just wanted to have a bit more fun and not care so much because all those references hold places in my cell memory. When I hear them, they give me goosebumps or make me feel nostalgic."

Her album title may sound like a reference to the iconic '80s teen vampire movie Lost Boys, and Khan admits that her wordplay was a bit tongue-in-cheek. Her story has different themes, but she does not mind if people make the link between the two titles.

In her tale, the female Lost Girls group are “vampiric, mystical beings" who are "not as mean as the Lost Boys," she stresses. "They're a bit more positive. In the story, the main heroine reconnects with them and realizes that they all hold certain aspects of her psyche. They're all the shadow side to the light side, they are parts of herself. When they take her away to the desert, she gets inducted back into the cult of herself. It's a bit more of an esoteric story line than just bloodsucking and sex. I like to dress it up in the more sexy, neon colored, peachy sunset '80s vibe because I think that look is so romantic and all encompassing. But then the message I'm trying to get at is actually deeper and quite psychological."

The previous Bat For Lashes album The Bride—about a newly widowed bride who learns self-acceptance and self-love in the wake of tragedy—was definitely a darker ride. Lost Girls has a more positive vibe even as it paints some eerie pictures and grapples with relationship issues, such as on the song "So Good," which exemplifies a vampire metaphor that also applies to young love and searching for what one wants out of a relationship. "I think that song especially is about the power dynamic," notes Khan. "And that kind of idea of who's got the control, who's got the power in the relationship, and being hunted and being the hunter. That theme does link through. I think that song is the most simplified, pop version of that feeling."

"Feel For You" is lighter on lyrics and heavier on musical euphoria, and with its percolating percussion summons a vibe akin to Quincy Jones, Chic and Chaka Khan. "As a family, we'd play that music in the kitchen and dance around after dinner," she recalls of her teen years. "I wanted [this song] to sound like the Lost Girls theme, so in the movie version in my brain, when they ride their bikes down the mountain and are introduced, this is playing in the background. It is so fun. Like when you see the Goonies all get on their bikes and drive down the road. I just wanted to capture that sense of innocence and the cool girls. I'm not trying to say anything deep, it's just more visceral and physical."

Speaking of going back to the '80s, Khan appreciates the L.A. group Drab Majesty (who remind her of The Cure) and also the modern synthwave movement, which revisits that decade's synthpop and electro with modern touches. "I love FM-84," she says. “I've actually put three or four songs on this playlist that we made recently. And Com Truise, even though he's cleaner and slicker. Do you know Boy Harsher? I think you should hear a song called 'LA'. It's really sexy and fun, especially if you drive around at night.” (Interestingly enough, her producer's solid soundtrack to the movie Sleight feels synthwave-inspired.)

Some Middle Eastern sounding synth strings emerge on the new album as well. Khan's father, who is Pakistani, played her a lot of Middle Eastern music with harmonium and drones when she was growing up. These synth sounds were inspired by the "weird, beautiful version of pop [music]" from Iran and by the  recent Iranian vampire film A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night. "I think they shot in parts of it in downtown L.A., which is very interesting because when I went to Pakistan a lot of parts looked similar," says Khan. "It reminded me a lot of being in parts of Karachi, which is very weird."

Although she would love to consider a multimedia component on her upcoming tour to tie into the Lost Girls film in her mind—she is refining the ever-evolving script for what she hopes will turn into a real movie as she still wants to dive into filmmaking—Khan's concerts likely will be "stripped down to me with my band mate Laura where we'll play synth and there will be a lot of vocals, done in a very intimate way." The costs of touring and making videos today is such that artists must work with limited means, but Khan relishes that challenge.

"I really like the idea of trying to make a very interesting show that's really minimal," she says. "I actually feel so much more in control and more creative. It really relates back to my art school education that was very DIY with homemade stuff." She does not mind having a smaller budget for tours and videos (she's directing her own lately). "I think it buys you freedom and less pressure from the people that hold the purse strings. I'm excited about the new technology and how fast and how easy it is. I think it's really good for creative people. You can get your hands on whatever you want and change the boundaries of what it used to be."

At a time when pop culture has often taken dark turns, Khan seeks to help people rise above that, to help them where they feel powerful, liberated, connected. "What gives you a sense of joy?" she muses. "Because that's really important too."

The singer also has a belief that it is very important to contribute to the country one is living in. So after moving to L.A., she did two things. "I taught meditation to prisoners that had come out of prison and were being rehabilitated into the workplace," explains Khan. "We did meditation twice a week which was incredible. They absolutely loved that."

She also worked at as an art teacher for 10 weeks at a continuation school for kids who had dropped out of high school. "We made dioramas about their lives and did drawing and meditation and sculpture," says Khan. "Like in England, they cut funds here so much on art, sports, creativity, music. There's not even recess in some schools. For me, that's one of the most pressing things. For me, creativity and art are the answer to every problem that a civilization might have, from being creative about problem solving and knowing yourself—and knowing what you will take and what you won't take—and connecting those aspects of yourself that are being hidden nowadays."

Listening to Khan speak about the importance of arts education mirrors her passion for her own art and why she is enjoying holding the reins now. She agrees with the notion that everybody should be creative in one way or another, even if they do not make money at it.

 "It's so important," concurs Khan. "I was a nursery school teacher. I know that play is vital to your brain development and social development, and then creativity is vital to refine your mind and make you understand the human condition. If they go away from schools, then we're really f**ked. That's what I think."

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Dua Saleh

Dua Saleh

Photo: Grant Spanier

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Dua Saleh & Psymun Talk Minneapolis Community Building, 'ROSETTA' & Music For Social Change

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The Sudan-born, Twin Cities-based artist released their second EP, 'ROSETTA,' executive produced by Psymun, on June 12
Ana Monroy Yglesias
GRAMMYs
Jun 25, 2020 - 10:58 am

Meet Dua Saleh. They are a non-binary artist born in Sudan and based in Minneapolis, creating haunting alt-pop from another dimension. Their second EP, ROSETTA, whose name was inspired by rock and roll pioneer Sister Rosetta Tharpe, just came out on June 12 on indie label Against Giants. On the expansive six-track project Dua explores facets of their identity, using the power of their vocals with an effortless fluidity, enhanced by beats from producer Psymun.

In response to the killing of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police, Saleh released "body cast" on May 31, a powerful song condemning police brutality, created with Psymun in 2019, originally set for a future project. They donated 100% of proceeds to Women for Political Change, a local nonprofit actively investing "in the leadership and political power of young women and trans and non-binary folks." 

We recently caught up with Saleh and Psymun (born Simon Christensen), calling in from Minneapolis over Zoom to learn more about ROSETTA, the current situation in Minneapolis, supporting Black and Queer artists, and more.

Psymun

Psymun | Photo: Zoe Pizarro​

I want to start by checking in and see how you're feeling right now, and how you've been coping with these difficult times.

Saleh: I'm feeling pretty anxious. Anxiety and fear have been the streamline that's been running through my system. But I've also been feeling activated and feeling ready to put in as many resources and as much love and care into my community as possible, because everybody's dealing with a lot, both from the uprising and from the COVID-19 shut down and financial ruin. And just a lot of personal things that are happening to people within the Black trans community, and just across all communities that I've been attached to personally.

Christensen: I've been also pretty anxious, but overall fine. I haven't really been making music much; it's just hard to focus, I guess. Have you been feeling that, Dua?

Saleh: Yeah. I feel like I've also been sick for a long time and, even now, I'm anxious about interviews that I'm doing. So I haven't been able to even focus on music because my voice is not capable of even talking for long periods of time. I don't know if that's because that anxiety is also adding to that, but I think that's just been on my mind.

I felt like I was having a lot of the same symptoms that were COVID-related for a lot of people. A lot of chest pains, I couldn't breathe during times. I had to intake a lot of vitamin C, otherwise, I would literally be gasping for air and my heart would be palpitating immensely. Also, my voice hurt for a long time. I couldn't speak for like two weeks, legitimately.

Christensen: Did you get tested?

Saleh: Yeah, I tested negative, but I didn't get my antibodies tested, which I should check that out.

Christensen: I think the antibody test is expensive. I got tested [for COVID-19] and it came back negative. I'm getting tested again today because it's free, just to make sure.

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I want to get your pulse on how things are feeling right now in Minnesota. How would you describe the current situation we're in here in the U.S., through the lens of the activism and uprising in Minneapolis?

Christensen: Well, the feeling of it, it's a lot. It's really beautiful for a lot of reasons, but it's also really, really tense for a lot of reasons. Currently, things haven't stopped. There's still plenty of protesting, but from what I've noticed, rioting and stuff has slowed down. I think people can literally only handle so much. And also I think it came to a point where a lot of people [and] protesters were afraid for their lives.

It's not like things have stopped and I don't think they're going to. I hope not. But there is a weird part that feels like things have almost gone back to normal in the city. I think the media doesn't cover a lot of what's still going on, so it's hard. It does feel like things are back to normal in a way, but they're not actually.

Saleh: I feel like for me, I've been seeing a lot of community care infrastructure being put in place by community members, like mutual aid efforts and sanctuaries. People have been signing up to be security and medics at the sanctuaries and offering food and medical supplies for people, tents for displacement and homelessness. And people being there for GoFundMe efforts for people who have been harmed or their businesses and their homes have been completely destroyed by non-local agitators, as well as some local agitators.

I've just been seeing a lot of community efforts of love and care. And I feel like that energy is what makes people feel like things are going back to normal, because it's not really about the urgency of immediate fear of death and pain because there aren't weapons with live ammunition being pointed in the faces of people, but they are still afraid of being harmed by police officers.

One of the sanctuaries that was set in place by community members had to move a few times because police officers were called and they literally displaced all these people. So in my mind, I feel like the urgency is still there, just the narrative around it has shifted and people aren't as interested or intrigued by talking about sanctuaries or mutual aid because it's not as tantalizing as, I guess in a pornographic way, as protests and as tear gas grenades and other things that are thrown at people. It's more about institutional violence and ways to help people who are in urgent need in that way.

It's so inspiring to see the outpouring of support for different orgs, like the Minnesota Freedom Fund that got so many donations they asked people to choose other local institutions to help. It just shows how, like you said, people have to bring the attention in all the right places, because I think many people want to help and offer what they can.

Saleh: Definitely. And there are a lot of different organizations and arts-based orgs that are doing healing programming for people to try to figure things out that way and also need immediate funding. Like Mercado Colegio, who are working with Latinx community members, or Free Black Dirt is helping with healing efforts and food redistribution, and also Women for Political Change, which me and Psymun are donating all of our proceeds from "body cast" to directly. They've been doing a lot of immediate on-the-ground work with medics, medical aid and security. As well as with redistributing funds to Black youth, specifically Black women and Black trans and non-binary people who are in immediate need, especially after all the events that occurred with the uprising and with COVID-19. People are very vulnerable and need support, so organizations like those are very helpful.

I would love to talk a bit more about "body cast." At what point did you feel called to release the song early?

Saleh: Psymun, do you remember—I feel like I've just been talking out my ass for most of these interviews, because I don't really remember how the songwriting process started. I know I had some random lyrics written down in my Notes app and I think you sent me some chords or something and the title of it was called body cast, and that spiraled me into something. Or were we in the studio?

Christensen: I was in L.A. when I sent it to you. It was when I sent you that grip of ideas and that one actually wasn't just chords, that was like one of the two that I sent with drums. It was called body cast, I just named it something random.

One thing I really like about working with Dua is, a lot of the time, whenever I send them anything, it's just named something random and they typically write a song based off of what I titled it. Which is really funny, because most people don't do that.

Saleh: I don't know. I get lazy with titles. So I'm like, yes. Also, it's really good inspiration. I appreciate your titles. Actually, "windhymn" which is on the EP, was called yah originally. I miss that name, to be honest.

Christensen: [Laughs.] Also, "bankrupt" was called bankrupt when I sent it to you and then same with "cat scratch." [For "body cast"] I remember you sent me two videos; you specifically wanted a sample of Black women telling off cops. You sent me, the one we sampled, was from Angela Whitehead. You also sent the Sandra Bland one, which I think, I don't know if it was just me, so I'm not trying to speak for you, but I remember feeling like, man, this is really sad.

Saleh: Yeah. Triggering, probably. I'm glad that you chose the other one. I think the first one I sent was the Angela Whitehead one, because I think in myself, I was like maybe the Sandra Bland one is intense. I've been very cognizant of the way that auto-played videos of Black people in distress have been triggering Black people who follow me on social media. So I haven't re-posted any of those videos.

I think back then, I wasn't thinking about that. It was a year ago. And I didn't even think that we were going to release the song now, I thought it was going to be in a future project. But I definitely now, upon reflection, appreciate the fact that the Angela Whitehead video was chosen, because that video is such an energizing and activating video because people see it as reasserting their right to be aggressive and loud and to live in the comfort of her home without fear of invasion.

Read: Rapper Niko Brim And Activist Opal Lee On The Importance Of Juneteenth: "It Represents Freedom"

And once you released "body cast," what did it feel like to share that message, standing up to police brutality, at this time? It is really powerful and I saw it get covered in quite a few places.

Saleh: I feel like people resonated with it. I've been getting a lot of DMs and messages and just a lot of articles being published about it from GRAMMYs, Hypebeast, Rolling Stone, other publications that I was not expecting and didn't solicit. They just either posted on their own or they reached out to us directly.

It's been invigorating specifically because we've been trying to build narrative about giving back to community through the song. Seeing Minnesota Women for Political Change being tagged on different articles and seeing people being linked to their work and having people accredit them for the very essential movement-building that they've been doing, that has been very fulfilling for me personally.

And in what other ways have you been advocating for justice and engaging with everything right now?

Saleh: Well, I've been helping with a Twitter page that's specific to Minneapolis, just re-posting different things that I've been talking about. So, mutual aid efforts, GoFundMes for people who have been displaced, people's medical transition needs, people's immediate donation needs at sites and sanctuaries. And that's been the way that I've been trying to help navigate this, especially because I've been careful about organizing spaces, considering my personal triggers. With previously being in organizing, I have some concerns about safety for myself and younger Black people, Black youth and Black trans people, and how they're not always held by larger orgs in the ways that they need to be held. So, I've been trying to navigate space in that way, and also trying to help with arts initiatives and healing initiatives.

I also got trained to be a medic, but I still haven't utilized it because I was so sick for so long, and I didn't get my COVID-19 test back until near the end of the uprising pretty much. So I was only out there once and I didn't need to do anything or apply anything to anybody medically. But yeah, those are the small ways that I've been contributing.

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It sounds like a lot.

Saleh: Psymun's been doing a lot. Mutual aid efforts, I think. Right?

Christensen: I have a car, which is helpful too for a lot of people right now, so I've been helping with transportation. North Minneapolis got hit really bad when there was those weird specific few days of attacks from white supremacist groups and stuff. So I've been letting a couple stay at my studio in Northeast Minneapolis because they were being terrorized where they live. I guess I've doing a lot of food and medicine supplies delivery. I was at some of the protests.  

I'm not trying to sound like I've done a ton or anything because I haven't done as much as I could, I'm sure. I guess my point is that having a car has been a way for me to be helpful because transportation is huge and being able to deliver stuff to people is really huge.

Read More: Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Isaac Hayes, John Prine & More To Be Honored With 2020 Lifetime Achievement Award

Saleh: I think it might encourage other people to do it or to help people who need emergency safety stuff like that couple does. Everything's so heightened and everybody's tensions and personal entrenched violence has been lifted to the top, everything's lifting up, so I think community being there for each other and being able to have spaces for people to be safe are vital. To have spaces and resources for people to sit and rest or to get rides, all of those are very essential and seeing one person do it will motivate another person to do it.

Christensen: Yeah, I feel that. And yeah, that's a huge part of, when you were talking earlier Dua, about how it almost feels like things have gone back to normal but are still so different. Because I feel like the community has come together in so many different places that it really never existed before and among different people. It's definitely interesting and great to see the community almost just running things and it feels like people aren't relying on authority. Especially law enforcement, obviously, but any higher ups—it feels like less people are relying on or trusting those systems and we are looking to each other more now because of the uprising. And I imagine it's like that elsewhere, not just here in Minneapolis.

I want to make sure that we talk about ROSETTA. Dua, how did it feel to release your second project out into the world? And I'm also curious of what inspiration Sister Rosetta Tharpe had with it, based on the title.

Saleh: It feels—I don't know. I feel like there's a huge amalgamation of feelings that I'm experiencing just because I released it at such a sensitive time. Usually there's time for everybody who works on the project—I guess I've only released two EPs now—but usually there's time for us to talk about it, celebrate together. Because of the urgency of the times COVID-19 safety measures, there have only been group chat celebrations. I haven't seen Psymun in a long time and I haven't seen Alec [Ness], who mixed and mastered the project, in a long time.

It's felt odd, but it feels good to have it out now because I feel like people needed a reminder to re-center, and a reminder to sit with art and to let that flow through their body. Especially with all of the death and turmoil that's surrounding us, with George Floyd's murder specifically in Minneapolis, but also the many other murders of people, like Tony McDade, and Riah Milton and Dominique Fells, who were two trans women murdered within their communities.

Read: The Curious Career Of The Legendary Sister Rosetta Tharpe

But there's just been so much death and turmoil that I think people needed a source of healing. Sister Rosetta Tharpe is a huge source of healing for me personally—the person that music historians' credit as the inventor of rock and roll is a Black queer woman. Finding her music was a huge source of my personal healing in my journey towards lifting the burdens of life off of my own shoulders. And I wanted to use the narrative of her legacy to entrench into this project.

It happened naturally though. I wasn't thinking about Sister Rosetta Tharpe when I made all of this music, but obviously all music that is rock inspired or that's indie-inspired has a root. And for us, I think the root is Sister Rosetta Tharpe and rock and the origins of rock and roll music.

 

I agree that music and art, and this project specifically, is definitely something that is needed right now. The whole EP has a lot of interesting sonic elements, so I'd love to look at the different elements of "smut," which I was really drawn to, and you sing in Arabic on it.

Saleh: The song was produced by Psymun and Sir Dylan. I wrote the song acapella and then they put production over it, and then we added Velvet Negroni's vocals on it and Psymun manipulated that. The song was primarily written in English, about sexual escapades, primarily about my ex, but there's a portion of the song inspired by the Sudani Revolution that happened. I use the term Kundaka, which was inspired by Kandake which means queen in Nubian text, but I queered it to mean gender nonspecific royalty.

The song is one of my favorite songs off the project as well. Psymun, you can talk about the sonic elements of the production, if you want to.

Christensen: Yeah, that song, me and Dylan, I remember we were making a lot of the percussion out of crazy noise samples that we both had. It was really fun. I remember Jeremy, Velvet Negroni, came back to record his part another day and his throat was all f**ked up. But he was so in love with the song that he still pushed through for it.

How can the music community at large better support Black and queer artists?

Dua: The best way to support Black and queer artists is by offering them direct financial support and listening to their concerns. I've curated a Spotify playlist called DO IT LIKE DUA featuring mostly Black trans and queer artists [the playlist includes Mykki Blanco, Noname, booboo, Kehlani, Frank Ocean and others]. Please listen to these talented artists and donate directly via Spotify's COVID-19 Relief fund on their profiles or find them on Bandcamp. 

Also, consider following them on social media. The artists I've highlighted are very knowledgeable about ways to give back to the community. In addition, they all have very humorous, engaging and critical content! Please show them love.

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Haim

Photo by Drew Escriva

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Haim Open Up About 'Women In Music Pt. III,' Protesting In L.A. & Music Industry Sexism: "Not A Lot Has Changed"

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Ahead of the release of their third studio album, Alana, Danielle and Este Haim sit down with GRAMMY.com for a wide-ranging interview about loving (and almost leaving) L.A., battling gender-based genre stereotypes and much more
Pamela Chelin
GRAMMYs
Jun 25, 2020 - 8:43 am

While conversing over Zoom, it’s easy to see why the Haim sisters work so well together. Chatty and affable, they alternate between finishing each other's sentences and talking in unison, and paying rapt attention as each sister speaks. Born and raised in a tight-knit family in the San Fernando Valley area of Los Angeles, bassist/vocalist Este Haim (34), guitarist/vocalist Danielle Haim (31) and guitarist/keyboardist/vocalist Alana Haim (28) grew up playing in Rockinhaim, a covers band with their parents. In 2012, Haim released their debut EP Forever for free on their website before releasing their debut full-length album, Days Are Gone (2013), which shot to number one on the U.K. Albums Chart and garnered a GRAMMY nomination for Best New Artist. Something To Tell You, their sophomore record, was released in 2017. After opening a string of dates on Taylor Swift’s 1989 tour, headlining their own international tours and selling out both New York City's Radio City Music Hall and London's Alexandra Palace two nights in a row, a couple of "SNL" performances, and attracting celebrity fans in Fleetwood Mac's Stevie Nicks and U2's Bono, the trio is on the verge of releasing their highly anticipated third record, Women In Music Pt. III.

Due to the coronavirus pandemic, WIMPIII’s release date was initially pushed to August from April before being rolled back to June. The viral outbreak also cut Haim's promotional deli tour short (they had just begun a jaunt performing at delis across the United States). On its surface, a deli tour may seem strange. But for Haim, who share a lifelong fondness for delis, it's actually a natural fit. "We grew up going to delis and when we were introducing the record we wanted to do something creative that we’d not seen before. We really do feel at home the most in delis," Alana tells GRAMMY.com. "We really wanted to do a different thing and we thought how cool if people can go and be able to eat Matzo ball soup." In fact, Haim's first gig with their parents 20 years ago was at West Hollywood landmark Canter's Deli, where the band also hosted a star-studded party with special guest DJ Mark Ronson in 2017. Earlier in the year, Haim—along with their frequent music video collaborator director Paul Thomas Anderson—shot Women In Music Pt. III’s album art Canter's. In the cover photo, Haim are shown standing behind a deli counter with sausages (wink, wink) hanging behind their heads with NOW SERVING 69 (hint, hint) prominently displayed.

GRAMMYs

Co-produced by Danielle and longtime collaborators Ariel Rechtshaid (Danielle’s live-in boyfriend) and Rostam Batmanglij (formerly of Vampire Weekend), WIMPIII is Haim's favorite record to date. "For the first time, with this record, I don't think I’ll ever get sick of it," says Alana, crediting their years of recording experience. "We’ve always been confident but this is our third record, our third time around the sun if you will, and even thinking back to Days Are Gone, we didn’t know anything in the studio." "We knew the fundamentals of production when we first got into it, but now we know so much more," says Danielle. 

This time around, it was important to Haim, who are known for their highly energetic performances, to capture their live sound on record. "We wanted it to sound like the person listening to it was in the room while we were recording it, and that’s why it sounds super live," says Alana, who says they played as loudly as they could and put a room mic in the corner of the studio. Danielle says making use of her home studio was pivotal, too. "Being in expensive studios on Days Are Gone, there was so much pressure with being in those kinds of professional studios. But at Voxx [Studios], where we also did our last album, too, we'd do basic tracking and then take it into a home studio, and that’s where we feel our most comfortable," says Danielle.

Their most mature, contemplative, revealing and musically realized record, the melodic, hypnotically rhythmic and catchy WIMPIII reflects Haim's huge evolution over the last eight years including a deep lyrical exploration of myriad relationships (romantic, self, each other, the music industry and the media). In Haim's customary genre-busting musical style, the 16-song offering incorporates a variety of musical influences, seamlessly blending pop, R&B, hip-hop, folk, ska and classic rock (in addition to splashes of Prince and '90s pop-radio mainstays Savage Garden). Despite the range of musical influences going into WIMPIII, what comes out the other side sounds uniquely Haim.

Hoping the record's title Women In Music Pt. III speaks for itself, they are understandably as tired of talking about being women in music in 2020 as they should be. "In the back of our minds, we were hoping that because we’d named our album that, it wasn't going to be the first question everyone asks," says Danielle. "That’s why we put our song 'Man From The Magazine' in music form so we would be able to touch on it without having to have it be the thing that we talk about constantly."

The lyrics of "Man From The Magazine" discuss Haim's experiences with sexism ranging from a male journalist inquiring inappropriately about the faces Este makes when she plays bass (Man from the magazine / What did you say / Do you make the same faces in bed / Hey man what kind of question is that / What did you really want me to say back?) to a guy working at a music shop who assumes the sisters are beginner musicians. (Man from the music shop / I drove too far for you to hand me that starter guitar / Hey girl why don’t you play a few bars / Oh what’s left to prove?)

Asked if things have improved over recent years, the sisters sigh. Unfortunately, they haven't. One after the other, Alana and Este both say, "Not a lot has changed." 

What frustrates Haim further, which Danielle elucidates as another of WIMPIII’s themes, are perpetual attempts at forcing genre-specific labels on their music. "We have had to deal with people trying to put us in a box our whole career and not understanding what we do," she says. "There was a lot of, ‘Oh, you’re a girl band’ or ‘Oh, you make pop music,’" says Alana. "We've always felt that we carved our own path and made the music we wanted to make and we never put a label on it and we were OK with it. But to some people, if they don’t understand what box you go in, they get confused and say they don’t understand it, which is weird to me. We’ve always bridged the gap over a bunch of things and we’ve never been afraid to explore different kinds of genres and different kinds of songwriting." 

"I think other bands that aren’t all female can dabble in a bunch of different genres yet they're still called a rock band," says Danielle. "Meanwhile, we’re women and we dabble in all sorts of genres, [but] because we’re women it’s pop. That’s frustrating to be honest with you."

When they first received recognition in the U.K., Danielle says even being tagged with having a "California Sound" was baffling. "It was funny when people started saying that we have a 'California Sound.' We didn’t realize. We were just making music that we were coming up with. It's interesting. We never thought about it that way. Maybe it’s the harmonies? I don't know," says Danielle. "Our hair?" asks Alana. "Our long hair? Our middle parts?" says Danielle. "We never really felt super L.A. until we went to the U.K.," says Alana.

That’s not to say they resent the L.A. tag, though. You’d be hard-pressed to find greater L.A. champions than the sisters Haim, between their album art, lyrics (songs on the new record reference Crescent Heights, earthquake drills and freeway overpasses), music videos and recent promotional photos showing the band gracing the front page of L.A. Times Calendar section strategically placed over their seemingly naked bodies.  

"We’ve always been advocates for our city and we've repped it super hard, and throughout our whole lives we had to deal with pop culture telling us, ‘L.A. sucks.’ I feel like that was a popular theme," says Danielle. "Yeah, New York is the cool place. L.A. sucks," says Alana. "Yeah, it was always, ‘L.A. sucks’ in a lot of different movies," says Danielle. "In movies and TV shows, it never got respect," says Este. "We ride for L.A.,” says Danielle. "And I think with this record we embraced it. We talk about L.A., and obviously 'Free Fallin’' and Tom Petty are huge huge inspirations to us our whole lives. Actually, Wildflowers was a huge inspiration on this album."

Ironically, WIMPIII’s opening track, "Los Angeles," reveals Haim contemplating moving elsewhere. "That song is speaking to the mass exodus of everyone and their mom moving to L.A. and having a vindication that, yes, L.A. is the best,” says Danielle, "So the aftermath of that for me was, ‘Wait, is this city even mine anymore?’ Maybe I recognized why some people didn’t like it and we kind of collectively thought maybe we should move somewhere because we’ve never lived anywhere else." It's plain as the Hollywood sign on a clear day, however, that the sisters aren’t going anywhere. "I love it," says Alana. “L.A. is stuck with me.” 

The only thing stronger than the love for their hometown is the sisters’ adoration for each other. The penultimate track on WIMPIII, "Hallelujah," is a beautiful guitar- and vocals-driven ode to sisterhood emanating a "Landslide" vibe that would make Fleetwood Mac proud. Solemn and somber, the tender and naked ballad reflects each sister's grappling with personal and heavy topics—Este’s Type 1 Diabetes, Alana’s grief for a close friend who was killed in a car accident years ago and Danielle’s coming to terms with Ariel’s testicular cancer (he’s now cancer-free)—while expressing gratitude for each other’s support. Their close bond is most sharply illuminated by the lyric "three roads, one life."  

"That was a cathartic song to write, a hard one to write but a really nice release," says Este. "I think we had so much to say and it flew out. I remember the day we wrote it, it felt like I lost 20 pounds and felt light as a feather and needed to happen," says Alana. "Another overlying theme of the record is dealing with things we’d kind of been running away from. For years, we’d been a touring band that [thought] leaving your troubles in L.A. is the easiest thing to do. 'See ya when I come back, probably not but OK bye.'"

Meanwhile, the sisters have been isolating separately from each other, and lockdown has been tough. "It sucks,” says Este who’s suffered the most in isolation. "I feel I’m a strong, independent woman but I think that I’ve realized in this quarantine that I also crave human connection. It’s also why I love touring so much, and the idea of not being able to do that is heartbreaking. It feels like I’m going through a breakup and, truly, the relationships with audience members that you foster on the road—to me, that’s connection. To go from feast to famine is really, really difficult for me. I very much love the routine of touring and being able to share it with my family is so special. And now being home is kind of sad.

After spending the first month of lockdown without seeing each other, the longest time Haim have ever spent apart, the sisters made a pact only to visit with each other and no one else. Though they’ve used their lockdown time productively, doing press for their record, appearing on talk shows and hosting weekly Zoom dance classes for their fans, it’s been heartbreaking to sit on a record that was specifically made to be played live. "The thing we wanted to make sure with this album is, and it’s bittersweet now, but we were really thinking about how we were going to play this album live. That was at the forefront of our minds. Playing live is such a big part of us and something we take seriously," says Danielle. "We were just stoked to play this shit live. That’s the thing. We love the studio but we love the tactile act of playing music, so the idea of not being able to do that is pretty tough,” says Este.

Notably, even while Haim air their grievances and disappointments, they remain warm, upbeat, enthusiastic, playful and positive. They are grateful for their success while simultaneously seeming slightly incredulous as if they are still pinching themselves to make sure they aren't dreaming. "The fact that we started out playing at the Echo, first of three [bands on the bill], and have made it to this point, just on our own, is the biggest gift," says Alana, who is still stunned that Haim sold out L.A.'s Greek Theatre in just a few hours. Her eyes widen in disbelief as she says, "Man, the f**king Greek? What? What?"

While they are L.A. to the (hard)core, the sisters haven't gone Hollywood. Down to earth and accessible, they are highly interactive with their legions of fans online where they post regularly. Recently, when a fan posted concern on Haim’s Instagram page that WIMPIII’s release date would be changed yet again, the band immediately responded with assurance. "It’s just how we’ve always been and how we’ll always be," says Alana. "We truly crave human connection and thrive on it. We’re just three sisters from the Valley, you know," says Este. "You can take the girl out of the Valley but you can’t take…," Alana trails off with a wry smile.

While they typically veer towards quirky and lighthearted online, the sisters have switched gears in some of their recent Instagram posts voicing support for justice for Breonna Taylor who was shot eight times in her apartment by police in Kentucky, posting photos from Black Lives Matter protests they attended in Hollywood and downtown Los Angeles following the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis, and calling upon L.A. Mayor Eric Garcetti to fire LAPD Police Chief Michel Moore after unsettling remarks in which he said protesters and looters also had the killing of George Floyd on their hands (the remarks were later rolled back by Garcetti and retracted by Moore, who issued an apology).

"When the protests began, we knew there was a risk with COVID, but we had to go out, support and protest," says Alana. "It didn’t feel right to just stay at home. We needed to be out there with everyone. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard with everyone chanting the same thing, moving together, it was a really special feeling. There were so many people that came out to help one another, too, to make sure everyone was safe and protected. People were handing out masks, hand sanitizer, water, etc. it’s been really beautiful to see everyone come together and stand for change."

"Having this platform is not something we take lightly, especially during times like these," says Este. "We've been protesting, donating, calling and sending emails to help raise money and awareness to help organizations like the People’s City Council Freedom Fund and Black Trans Femmes in the Arts Collective. We’ve been encouraging our fans to do the same."

In the meantime, while it's anyone's guess as to when bands will be able to perform live, the sisters are happy WIMPIII is finally being released while remaining cautious about scheduling future tour dates. "We can’t wait to start playing shows but want to be sure that we’re keeping our fans, our crew and everyone’s health and safety a priority. When it’s finally safe for everyone, we’ll definitely be playing live," says Este.

"I do feel when things are opening, then maybe we can finish the deli tour," says Alana. "Or if delis are open and that’s the only form of how to play music, I can solely do a deli tour. If that’s the only way to play live, I’ll solely play delis."

Phoebe Bridgers Talks 'Punisher,' Japanese Snacks & Introducing Conor Oberst To Memes

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Phoebe Bridgers Talks 'Punisher,' Japanese Snacks & Introducing Conor Oberst To Memes

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The singer/songwriter talks to GRAMMY.com about nostalgia for life on the road and how she personally defines the word "punisher"
Laura Studarus
GRAMMYs
Jun 22, 2020 - 9:27 am

The day before the scheduled release of her sophomore album Punisher, Phoebe Bridgers let the cat out the bag. "I’m not pushing the record until things go back to ‘normal’ because I don’t think they should," she tweeted, along with an album link. "Here it is a little early. Abolish the police. Hope you like it."

The move, while unorthodox by most promotional standards, was a no-brainer for Bridgers. Open about her beliefs, both on social media and in interviews, the musician has already been a strong supporter of Black Lives Matter and The Bail Project, which in early June she helped fundraise for with a hushed version of Bright Eyes' classic "First Day of My Life."

Of course, resiliency and improvisation isn’t a completely unheard of attribute in the mist of the 2020 quagmire. When we spoke in early May, Bridgers is calling from on top of a treadmill in the middle of her house. For the singer/songwriter, the exercise equipment represents the adjustment we’ve all been forced into, and a way to get some exercise now that walking in her Los Angeles Echo Park neighborhood has become too complicated. (Only walking—she confirms, citing "shitty knees.") The sense of movement helps her think, particularly after calling her summer tour off after only one rehearsal with her band. 

This pause, both figurative and literal, has been the first Bridgers has had, almost since her 2017 debut, Stranger in the Alps. As if supporting one critically acclaimed album wasn’t enough (see the year-end lists and string of film placements that made singles like "Motion Sickness" shorthand for complicated sadness), in 2018 she hit the road with boygenius, a meeting of minds featuring her, Julien Baker and Lucy Dacus. In 2019, she repeated the collaborative trick again hitting the road as Better Oblivion Community Center, a project she shares with Conor Oberst. Fans have been catching on to Bridgers’ ability for narrative storytelling—and not just the social media manager at Men's Health, who seems to be an omnipresent visitor during her live streams. ("I feel like they’re doing something right over there," she cracks of her unnamed admirer.) 

Of course, it hasn’t been all stillness. Even recently during lockdown, Bridgers has been making the rounds, including a recent appearance on "Jimmy Kimmel Live!," where she gave a pajama-clad, Omnichord-led performance of her single "Kyoto." (An aesthetic, she explains, that was inspired by both acoustics and a similar performance from The Killers.) She also recorded a video for "Kyoto" on green screen—channeling the aesthetics of Japanese Monster films, after a trip back to the country was scrapped. Creativity is still happening—even if she has no clue when fans will get to experience it live. 

Ahead of the release of Punisher, Bridgers spoke with GRAMMY.com about Japanese snack food, learning to be grateful and nostalgia for life on the road. 

So aside from the treadmill, what has been the most unique purchase you've made during lockdown?

I bought a bunch of cheese cloth so that I could make almond milk at home. I'm not very crafty or homey. So, that was a big purchase. For me, even though super cheap, but like out of the box, I bought a pajama onesie with a skeleton on it, but the crotch has ripped out of it already because it’s really cheap.

Is it true that you were Conor Oberst's gateway to memes?

Yeah! I still think he's pretty outside of the gate. Sometimes they'll genuinely make him laugh, but mostly he's just like, "What the f**k is that?"

You're doing a service to humanity one meme at a time.

Exactly. I'm solving all our conflict that's reported on. Totally taking it upon myself.

Given that you were casually into other bands last year, when did Punisher start coming together?

It started coming together before even my first record was out. I kind of take forever to write music, so I started writing it and then started recording it like, right after I recorded both my other bands. "Garden Song" was one of the first ones. "I See You Too." I remember playing that for everybody on the boygenius tour the recording. So, we were working on it for a really long time and then and then finished it up.

Are you the are you the kind of writer that’s constantly writing?

No, I go through weird phases. Mostly I'm procrastinating.

Hence your amazing Twitter presence. I get it now.

Hey, yeah! You're hearing the only 10 songs I really have. I guess I have like one extra song that I finished after the album was already recorded. I tend to write what is needed for me and I don't really like edit, or use elimination. I just record what I have.

Has the fair amount of collaborating you've done in the last year change how you work with other artists on your solo albums?

I really learned how to collaborate with first record, and then just every project I've done since it's like involves more and more people. Just because my friend group and the people I can like, call upon has become very big. I've always wanted his work like that. But this is the first time I've had the opportunity to.

Are there any names you wish you could add to that creative Rolodex?

It's so funny because like, honestly, not really. I think I will discover more people that become collaborators of mine, but for right now, my group is so solid, and it works.

Punisher seems like a very evocative title.

Well, I was gonna do like a self-titled album, which I might do to the next one. But then I wrote a song called "Punisher" and I was like, that's actually a sicker album title. A Punisher is someone who doesn't know when to stop talking. So, I think of like, older relatives who are talking about, like their hip replacement or something. They just don't know when you're disinterested. And I think we've all been that, like, to our heroes. So, in this context, I'm like punishing someone. You know, like, you get cornered at the bar by the friend that the person you were hitting on. That's a punisher.

I wish you could see the spit take I just did. 

Yeah, I think it's a little too relatable for everybody.

I feel like at some point everyone has been a punisher--and everyone who's been to Japan claims Kyoto as their favorite place. What's your relationship to the city?

It was like my favorite place I've ever been. Still is. I just had such a good time when I was there and wanted to go back. Yeah, I just made like a really big impression on me.

How do you handle that sense of displacement when you're discovering these amazing things so far from home?

Right now, I would kill to be on tour. But when I'm on tour, I save cute Pinterest home ideas. And I like look on Google maps [of] hikes by my house. I think it's pretty common, like wanting to be where you're not, but it's especially prevalent and weird when you're, like, living out something you've always wanted to and you're thinking about the next thing.

Yeah, I think anyone who lives in fast motion like that can identify with that as well. When those moments strike, and you realize that your brain is somewhere else like you described in the song "Kyoto," how do you bring yourself back?

It's hard. I'm still working on it every day. I'm trying to write like three things I'm grateful for every day now. I think it's pretty common and Pinterest-y again. But it seems to be working because at first you really have to wrack your brain and then after a while, it just gets easy and they become like tiny little details. But I've been talking to a couple friends it's like, when we forget about all the fear of being alive right now, it's going to be tempting in 10 years to be like, remember that crazy time when we were all just like finding ourselves or whatever? Like, I know there's gonna be like op-eds that are, like, romanticizing right now. And it's easy to think of the past that way. Because it's really hard to romanticize your present. Especially when everything's so uncertain and literally dangerous and life-threatening. But yeah, I just want to romanticize my life a little bit more while I'm living in it instead of in the future or past.

So, what has been on your list for the three things you're grateful for?

I should go look at it. But some days are really bad where it's like, I didn't eat until I got sick. But that is a special skill. I feel like an anxiety mechanism is like, I ate five toaster waffles in a row in the middle of the night a couple nights ago and I felt ill. So, the next day was a victory to not do that. I learned how to not do that. Sometimes I'll turn on a yoga class on my computer and then lay on my yoga mat and stare at the ceiling. And since I've been writing stuff down, I realized that when I finish the class I will write it down. Or like if I make something, or if I get enough sleep, or just like, you know, made a really good pot of coffee today, and it kind of sets the whole day instead of reheating yesterday's coffee.

I like that you're giving yourself credit for the little victories we're all having right now.

That's all there is.

Since it played a role in the song "Kyoto," what is the best thing about Japanese convenience stores?

Snacks. Just like, the triangle rice onigiri at convenience stores are so good, which is funny because I think they're for kids. Oh my god.

If you had to place yourself in the chaotic good chaotic evil sort of square, where would you rank?

I'm like all over the place. Sometimes chaotic good. And sometimes I'm neutral evil. I'm all at different times in my life.

What are you looking forward to most once we get back to the era of live music?

I'm finding myself looking forward to the weirdest smallest things, like being at a truck stop in the middle of the night. Going to diners after shows. Looking out the window if the bus in Montana. Seeing other bands. I'm remembering all the extra stuff, but mostly I'm just looking forward to playing these songs. We had one rehearsal before shit the fan with the band and it sounded so good. And I was kind of scared that it wasn't gonna translate. But it did immediately and it was so fun to play the songs. I can't wait.

Hinds' Carlotta Cosials On 'The Prettiest Curse' & Why "Rock And Roll Is Free Of Gender"

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Hinds' Carlotta Cosials On 'The Prettiest Curse' & Why "Rock And Roll Is Free Of Gender"

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Cosials speaks to the Recording Academy about her band facing misogyny head-on, turning time into creativity and the depths of studio experimentation on 'The Prettiest Curse'
Lior Phillips
GRAMMYs
Jun 17, 2020 - 9:18 am

Sitting in Carlotta Cosials' room via Skype feels a lot like listening to her band Hinds’ new album. For their third LP, The Prettiest Curse, the Spanish indie rockers took time to crack open their world and define themselves—retaining the strident energy of their first albums yet refusing to be reined in by the world’s definition of them. That same ease and freedom flows from Cosials, an inviting warmth that draws you in far enough to discover new rules to the game, the new rubric for understanding Hinds. "When you’re creating something that doesn’t exist, you feel more free," the guitarist/vocalist says. By stopping people from defining Hinds, Cosials and her bandmates found time to slow down the pace and explain themselves on their own terms.

Hinds built their reputation for constant touring and raucous live shows. But rather than continue to chase that energy on record, the quartet spent time in both Madrid and New York City with producer Jennifer Decilveo to capture a reality beyond the four walls of a concert hall. They imagined themselves explaining their reality to children, to streamline exactly who they are and what they do—without the filter of outside expectation or the romanticism of rock and roll. 

The Prettiest Curse crystallizes that experience. Over a rubbery rhythm section, "Just Like Kids (Miau)" catalogs the inane comments leveled at Hinds in a nasally mockery, the band channeling their mania through indie pop as smoothly as garage rock. The euphoric "Good Bad Times" churns with ‘80s energy, wrapping heartbreak, anger, sadness and misunderstanding into a glossy ball. To compound the dizzying appeal, the lyrics alternate between English and Spanish, exemplifying the album’s ability to draw every listener into its "us against the world" embrace.

Cosials spoke with the Recording Academy about facing misogyny head-on, turning time into creativity, and the depths of studio experimentation on The Prettiest Curse.

This album is such a journey sonically, and I’m sure it must have been to record as well.

You are so right. We had so many songs! For the first time in Hinds, we wanted to create something with a background that is not necessarily just what you hear and what you see. We wanted something behind the Hinds world, something kind of magical. And for that we had to explore new sounds, which has been such an amazing journey. For the first two albums, it was only two guitars, bass, and drums. So suddenly we were like, "Oh my God, let's use this instrument over here, and oh look at this old piano that sounds like this!" It was just super cool.

What other instruments did you experiment with?

I don't even know how many there are! So many synths, so many pianos, so much space echo vocals. We really had fun at the studio. When you're creating something that doesn't exist, you feel more free. So it was like, "Let's look for the sound that sounds like morning." We would look for sounds that make you feel like it's the morning, waking up and stuff. That was the kind of exploration we were doing—anything, literally anything. Suddenly, production was the priority, and then we would think about the live show, instead of the other way. The other albums were more like turning a live show into a record.

I really hear that. I was struck by the freedom in this record thematically, as well. There's this constant motion, and it deals very openly with the struggles of being a musician on the road, away from the people you love—but without being overly sentimental. What ignited that freer feeling?

We've finally reached the point where we assume that we're going to be musicians forever and that this is our life. We wanted to share the reality of that, and how the reality is tough sometimes. Reality is not as beautiful as what you think of when you think about musicians. Being a musician isn’t just all parties and laughs and claps. We wanted to tell this reality through a story you could tell to a child—saying something that is completely real and not necessarily easy, but you put it in a way that you can swallow it better. It's not hiding it, it's not running away from it, it's not trying to avoid it, or not looking at it. I can go through it, I can face it, and I'm going to put it in a more poetic way because that's what I do. What I do is music. It's my pleasure to talk about the realities of being a touring musician.

What emotional bank, if you can call it that, did you need and pull from in order to make that change and be that open?

This is going to sound silly, but one of the most important things is that when we were recording in New York City, the studio was exactly 45 minutes away walking from the Airbnb we had rented. I have the best ideas when I'm walking or when I can't sleep. So each day, an hour and a half, 45 minutes each way, was the perfect amount of time to listen to an album. It really refreshed my mind and I arrived at the studio with a fresh brain and not full of stress.

The other albums have been always in between tours, and in a rush. I'm not saying that the songs were worse, but when you have more time you just enjoy the process more. There were still some moments of doubt. Like, "Are we going with too many instruments or too many sounds? Is there too much going on, too many layers in a song?" But then at the same time, I don't want to become a guardian of rock or something, the police of rock and roll. So, we just went for it.

It’s incredible how time and freedom can turn into the perfect recipe for creativity. Was there anything from your past records that you wanted to get rid of? Were there things that you didn't want to repeat?

In a more philosophical way, I wanted to get rid of all those fears. We used to be actually proud of only having used four instruments in a whole album. We felt pressure to tap ourselves into rock and roll because that's what we wanted to be: a rock and roll band. Us being girls and stuff, sometimes it's confusing for people. "Why are you here? What the hell are you doing? Are the songs good enough?" So certainly for us it was a relief to be a rock and roll band because I think rock and roll is free of gender. And we felt better if we were established as a rock band. But suddenly with this third album, we're older and wiser. [Laughs.] We just don't care that much about what people think.

So what were the albums that you were listening to when you were walking to the studio every day?

During those walks, I listened a lot to Jesus and Mary Chain. To me, the songs on their first two albums, Psychocandy and Darklands, are pop songs. They're in disguise, but it's actually pop lyrics with pop guitar riffs. And they're the darkest thing you could imagine. You would never think they were cheesy. So if they can do it, we can do it too. Just because we smile more or have fun, that doesn't change the music we do. So, let's go for it.

And then during this year, I'm re-discovering Spanish-singing rock and pop music. I've been studying each album from Los Punsetes, Mujeres' Un Sentimiento Importante, Sen Senra's Sensaciones and Carolina Durante's self-titled album. I've been really enjoying that journey.

Your new album really does mix Spanish and English lyrics in a natural yet urgent way. Was that a conscious decision to do that here?

Yeah, definitely. Ana [Perrote, vocals/guitar] and I wanted to speak more Spanish in the songs. We even tried to write a whole song in Spanish, but it didn't make it to the album. It wasn't good enough. [Laughs.] But I'm really happy how it turned out.

We used to get asked why we sing in English all the time, but it was really never a decision. You accidentally write songs. You know what I mean? You're not actually looking for something. You write songs that sound similar to the music you listen to. At that moment, we were listening to a lot of garage music, and all of it was in English, so it was pretty automatic. And suddenly when we were getting that question so many times, it was like, "Whoa, is this a big deal?" We didn't know it was going to be a big deal.

But now that you're singing more in Spanish, did those lyrics hit harder when you were recording?

One hundred percent. When we write in English, it requires more attention from us because it's not our first language. We think kind of in Spanglish I guess, and we talk to each other in Spanish. And then suddenly when you're translating it into poetry, onto the paper, it's in English. That process is natural for us now. Sometimes I think I speak my feelings better in English than I do in Spanish—but then I realize that's not actually true. When we're singing in Spanish, I have a million possibilities because I think I know all the words in the dictionary. [Laughs.]

Sometimes limiting yourself allows you to explore the meaning of the word even more. So because you don't know "all the words" in the English language—but also, no one does—it limits you to find the words that mean the most to you.

Exactly! This is a super silly comparison, but do you remember season one of Stranger Things? The little girl doesn't know how to speak and she just learned little sentences, like "Friends don't lie." Those are the only things she knows and are the reasons why she does certain things. When you don't have all of the instruments, you're constantly finding the way to express and to communicate. Every kind of art in the end is communication between human beings. I really don't care if I'm speaking another language. I just think we should get rid of those barriers, of accents, of lack of knowledge, and of feeling embarrassed.

And your instruments become their own language. There's a real density to that language on the record. It's just so meaty. The production sounds full and warm, and the harmonies and shout-along passages feel really passionate. Why did these specific songs need that fullness and that warmth?

Sometimes it just flows. For example, during the summer, I was listening to Manu Chao's Clandestino. Throughout the album, a lot of radio sounds come in and out, other sounds are repeated in each song. There's a motif through the whole album. I was also listening to Bestia Bebé's self-titled album, and that one is surrounded by soccer, basically. I was thinking, "This album has to have a concept, something that holds the songs together. It has to be meaningful." And that's how we came to the idea of explaining reality to kids and how this magical world is nowhere and everywhere for us at the same time. The cover of the album is a house, a venue, and backstage. It's nowhere. It's a strange place. We all wanted to sound clearer and not too distorted. It's just evolution.

There's also this youthfulness to the vocals. I'm thinking particularly of the half-buried shouting on "Boy."

Yeah. Another album I was listening to a lot during the recording was Molotov's ¿Dónde Jugarán las Niñas?. There are five or six men in that band, and they're super aggressive, and they shout. Hearing that in a feminine voice, I didn't know if it was going to be cool enough. And then I thought, "What the hell? Am I being sexist against myself?" [Laughs.] "So let's have girls screaming. Hell yeah!" When we were listening to the demos that we had, we felt like they couldn't go lo-fi. It really had to be bold and fat and big and round, or else it would sound weak or broken.

I want to thank you for "Just Like Kids", which is such a powerful anthem for women in the music industry—and really any industry, honestly. Often artists will speak out against sexism, but it's an extra step to bring it into your art. Have you gotten mail from other women who've shared that experience?

Those lyrics, no doubt, are the ones that we're most proud of on the whole album. We've been meeting with people and speaking about the industry, like in panels in New York and Madrid, and we've gone on the radio to speak about this stuff. It's still important to give visibility to the reality of being a girl in a job full of men. I like the way we chose to take it because sometimes I get tired of complaining. That can be exhausting. Taking it in a funny way, of already being over it—like, "Alright, tell me ... tell me your f**king advice. Tell me what I'm not good enough to do. Tell me that I'm not pretty enough or that I am too pretty or that I am sucking dicks everywhere. Whatever, all right." [Laughs.] We just don't care anymore.

What do you feel needs to change first? Obviously the first step is what you guys have just done, putting a song out like that. Facing misogyny head on. How did you get to a point that you can write a song like this, and you're not just sitting in a closed-off corner overwhelmed by how awful the industry can be?

It really depends on the day. It sucks sometimes, but sometimes you feel strong enough. Even right now, I play this song to myself. I had to meet with someone the other day and I put it on in my headphones before going into the room to feel stronger, to feel good about myself.

It's not easy to expose yourself constantly. It's not easy to feel great about yourself constantly. Everybody has a f**king opinion of you, and more if you're a woman. But at the same time, I agree a lot with the English writer Caitlin Moran and her book How To Be A Woman. She says that actually what we need is time. We need time to feel this freedom, to feel free to jam with guitars, to feel free to sing good or bad, to feel free to do interviews, to feel free to appear on TV, to do anything. They haven't let us have our time before, so it's impossible to achieve a level of greatness in only 30 years.

Ana and me, we met through our ex-boyfriends because they both were in a band. We never took up guitar at the time we were with them, and both of them were guitar players. We never had the idea of taking up guitar because we thought we were going to be a waste of time. You don't want to be last in the class. We're very hard workers. So we started when Ana and I were alone together in a room, where we weren't going to judge each other or criticize each other. We really didn't care whether we were good or bad. When you feel happy and free, you can actually create something. If you feel stressed or pressured, you're not gonna come out with something genuine. So to the haters, leave us alone. [Laughs.] Leave us alone for a while, and we'll start to feel chill and create amazing stuff. We need time and we need to relax. People need to stop telling us what to do or what not to do. We need time.

Why did you choose music as your expression?

Because it's the best one! [Laughs.] I used to be an actress. I also write sometimes. But music is the best one because I'm a very social person. I believe in people, and I think people supporting people is one of the best things you can have in this world. Music, or at least rock and roll, you can't do it on your own. You need to coordinate four little brains and make them agree. And that is one of the biggest things you can ever imagine. Making these four little girls agree on something sometimes is hard. [Laughs.] Group coordination and group support, I just love it. If it could be a representation of the whole world, it would be amazing because you build up your empathy and you stop thinking just about yourself.

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