What did it sound like at home, as a kid?
Jesus Christ Superstar, A kiss and a flower, It's you... I would have been three years old.
Impossible to remember it.
I remember an episodic feeling of “this is nice!”
They impregnated him with music.
As a child, my cousins would blindfold me at a piano, they would hum something to me... and I would play it on the keyboard, by ear and on the first try.
¿A gift?
I believe in talent... which for me consists of loving intensely what you do.
What do you love?
On the school bus a classmate put headphones on for me and I heard Logical song. An epiphanic shock! When I came down, I was someone else, I already knew what I would do: compose songs.
A revelation.
I have had others: for example, I had a poster of Manolo García...
The last on the line.
...and from there he looked at me. I connected with his gaze and I got Letter to all your catastrophes. Years later, in Razzmatazz, we sang it together. Is not it wonderful?
The twists and turns of life, unpredictable.
That's why I teach my daughters to have faith and be kind to everyone. Life gives it back!
Safe?
Proven: my creative droughts coincide with my loss of interest in others, it is always like that.
Well, pay attention!
It is altruistic selfishness: for your pleasure... you give your best. And something happens to me: I run into people with whom I would say we have met before in other lives.
What explanation does he give himself?
It is an inexplicable sensation of eternal return... The proof is my songs.
What do your songs have to do with it?
I feel like they were all up there, already done, and I just grab them and bring them down here. And I or anyone can do it, and sometimes someone else is ahead of me in catching them.
Everything is created, is it enough to reveal it?
We are all interconnected and one is the first to catch a song, an idea...
Is that why what others do resonates with us?
That's why so many people in such distant places are excited to hear something about what I did in the total solitude of my attic.
Does this phenomenon surprise you?
I expose a pain that that song unlocks... and that serves another. “You made this song thinking of me,” they write to me, and they tattoo lyrics from Love of Lesbian!
Where did this name come from?
He was riding a motorcycle, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter: it was an idiotic time, we thought it was cool to sing in English. And the valuable thing is to empathize with people: English separated us.
Are you still hunting for songs on the fly?
My unconscious does it, which is smarter than me. An example: one day I wrote a sentence, and I read it later and it shocks me.
Let's see?
“Ugly children need more I love you.”
Is that so?
Do you see it as politically incorrect? I don't know, I don't censor myself. I dedicate myself to creating so that this happens, to surprise myself. If not, why do it?
Well yes.
It will be one of the lyrics of my new album.
And you will continue creating.
Creating and sharing is what compensates for my emptiness, because each discovery is a “eureka!” that fixes my entire week.
I read that he suffered terrible headaches...
It happened in the first year of dedicating myself to music, that I felt like a dagger in the eye and then my head was about to explode.
And how was it cured?
I stopped singing in English and became aware of being free. And she vanished. It was a depression. Today I meditate and try to breathe well.
How many people have you had before your stage at a concert?
Sometimes there have been 40,000 people.
And what do you feel at that moment?
I dissociate and see myself as a mere intermediary between people and the songs downloaded from my attic... And that's how I protect myself.
What do you know about these people?
Some pay their entrance fee in installments, which has cost them three monthly payments or more, and they have crossed Mexico in twelve hours by car...
What a responsibility for you.
It's great that they choose you, with so much out there! After 25 years... it matters that the fishmonger hums one of our songs.
Choose a song of yours.
There where we used to shout: I notice contained rage and infinite melancholy when singing it.
Other.
John Boy fan club: we sing it together at concerts, the weird ones who still feel like they're that piece that doesn't fit.
Read me some other phrase brought into this world by your unconscious...
“Sometimes I wake up and it's me.” Ugh, I don't know how it came to me, but I say it and I feel panic.
