INTERVIEW: SEÑORA

“Práctica de Límites” is a bold meditation on thresholds—geographical, sonic, and emotional. With roots in the political realities of imagined borders and the deeply personal process of creative transformation, this album by Señora invites listeners to reflect on where limits begin and dissolve. While not overtly didactic, it carries the weight of global tensions, refracted through experimental soundscapes that oscillate between mechanical precision and human imperfection. From reversed vocal fragments to unconventional rhythmic structures, Práctica de Límites is both a continuation of the introspective tone set by the artist’s previous album Fósil, and a forward-facing dive into a more kinetic, danceable language—one that never lets go of its emotional depth.

1. Your sound has always balanced rhythm and texture. With Práctica de Límites, how did you find that equilibrium?

I’m always chasing that balance. If everything sounds too clean or polished, it loses the soul. For me, it’s about finding that sweet spot where the mechanical precision of electronic sound collides with something more human, more flawed, more alive. On “Práctica de Límites”, I played with out-of-tune synths, pushed distortion, delay, and reverb to their extremes, and used drum patterns that don’t quite “fit” in the traditional sense. Those imperfections are what give the tracks their character and tension. They’re what keep things interesting.

2. What attracted you to the idea of exploring “limits” as a musical and conceptual theme?

When producing, I'm always influenced by the personal moment I'm in and everything happening around me. We live in a time where it's almost impossible not to question the idea of limits: what they are, who defines them, and what purpose they serve, socially, politically, even emotionally. From a musical perspective, what appeals to me most is the possibility of finding beauty in the most unexpected places, beyond limits, beyond logic, in the spaces where everything begins to fall apart.

3. Are there specific non-musical influences—literature, film, or philosophy—that guided this project?

There are always non-musical influences. It's one of my main sources. I couldn’t point to specific titles, but reading about history, politics, and sociology consistently shapes my perspective and creative process. Lately, I’ve been diving into cinema from the 1950s to the 1970s—films that have been on my list for years and are finally finding their moment. I'm also trying to understand the plant world a little better, another good source of inspiration.

4. From El Barrio de la Plata to now, your evolution is notable. Where do you think you're headed next?

Honestly, I have no idea. Right now, I’m working on several projects at once, and sometimes a clear vision for a new album just appears. Other times, it’s more of a slow process where the pieces gradually fall into place. I try not to force it and let the direction reveal itself over time. What I do hope is that the balance between rhythm and texture continues to evolve, becoming even more nuanced and unpredictable.

5. “Calma Tensa” remixes Paralímite with eerie restraint. Can you tell us more about that emotional landscape?

That’s probably a question better answered by the artist who created the remix. But what I really appreciate about all the remixes (Calma Tensa included) is how they bring a sense of structure and cohesion that I sometimes feel is missing in my own work. My productions tend to be a bit more chaotic, more instinct-driven. So hearing a version that channels the same emotions through a calmer, more restrained lens feels surprisingly comforting.

6. What was your studio setup like for this album—did you use anything unconventional?

The setup was fairly standard, nothing too unconventional. I work primarily with Ableton Live as my main sequencer. In terms of analog synths, I used the Prophet Rev2, Waldorf Pulse 2, and Behringer Crave, with some touches from the Behringer DeepMind 6. I also rely heavily on a bank of samples that I always manipulate and reshape to fit my own sound. The only slightly unusual element was a friend’s voice that I recorded, after heavy editing, it transformed into more of an atmospheric texture than a vocal presence.

7. You’ve gained support from names like Weatherall and Koletzki. How has that validation impacted your path?

Weatherall’s support was a truly special moment, especially because it happened while I was regularly attending his festival in Carcassonne (the Convenanza Festival). I met many artists there whose work I’d been following for years, and that whole atmosphere made me feel like I was heading in the right direction. His validation gave me an extra push to keep creating. I’ll never forget his set at Dekmantel in 2019, where he played three of my tracks in a row. It was surreal. His passing was a deep loss, not just personally, but for music as a whole. He did so much for the scene, just through his passion and generosity of spirit.

As for Koletzki, I’m equally grateful. Thanks to his support, one of my tracks reached a much broader audience and gained significant traction. That kind of exposure means a lot, especially when it comes from someone whose work you respect.

8. What does a perfect live set feel like for you?

For me, a perfect live set is one that surprises, in the best way. It shouldn’t just replicate what you’ve already heard on the recordings. It should offer something unexpected, a new perspective. That’s one of the beautiful things about electronic music, it gives you the tools to reinvent your sound in real time. Sadly, I often see live sets that feel like carbon copies of the album versions, and I think that’s a missed opportunity. No matter the style, a live set should move something in the audience, it should reach them on a deeper level.

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