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Interview with Liminal MX
- 30 jun
- 5 min de lectura
As electronic music continues to reward speed, visibility and constant reinvention, artists rarely have the luxury of allowing their work to mature alongside them. Yet for Guadalajara-born producer Liminal MX, Save Me has quietly done exactly that. Released when he was just 18, the album introduced a producer whose melodic sensibility and emotional openness stood apart from the functional demands of contemporary club music, earning the attention of ELIF at a remarkably early stage of his career.
Now revisited through a remix collection featuring a diverse cast of artists, Save Me is no longer simply a debut record—it has become a document of artistic growth. Each reinterpretation reveals different facets of the original material, exposing new emotional textures while demonstrating how deeply personal compositions can take on new meanings when filtered through other creative voices. Rather than replacing the originals, the remixes expand their emotional vocabulary.
Since the album's release, Liminal MX has evolved from a promising local talent into an increasingly international presence, taking his music from Guadalajara to dancefloors across Europe while preparing for a new chapter in Barcelona. Despite that rapid ascent, his work continues to revolve around vulnerability, introspection and the idea that club music can be as emotionally revealing as it is physically immersive.
In this conversation, Liminal MX reflects on revisiting the music he wrote as a teenager, the trust involved in handing intimate compositions over to other producers, the confidence—and pressure—that came with ELIF's early support, and how his understanding of home, success and artistic identity has shifted as his career gathers momentum. The result is a portrait of an artist who remains more interested in honest expression than easy answers, allowing his music to evolve without losing sight of where it began.
When you made Save Me, you were still a teenager and relatively unknown outside Guadalajara. Listening back now, what do you hear in that album that your 18-year-old self couldn't fully understand yet?
I think I hear someone who was trying to understand himself through music. Back then, everything I was feeling was very intense, but I didn't always know where those emotions came from or how to put them into words. Looking back, I hear a lot of innocence, but also a lot of intuition. There are things I made simply because they felt right, without overthinking them. Over time, I realized that Save Me became more like a snapshot of that stage of my life than a carefully planned concept. It's a very honest album, and that's something I still value today.
A remix album can sometimes feel like a reinterpretation of the music, but it can also become a reflection of the relationships around it. What did it feel like hearing artists you admire—and in some cases grew up listening to—reimagine such personal songs?
It was a really special experience because every artist found something different in the songs. Some kept the emotional core intact, while others took them somewhere I never would have imagined. Beyond the music itself, it meant a lot to know that artists I genuinely respect connected with those ideas enough to make them their own. When you write music that's this personal, letting someone else reinterpret it takes a lot of trust, but in the end it made the project even richer.
Many producers spend years trying to get a label's attention, yet ELIF committed to a full album after hearing your demos. Did that early belief in your music change the way you saw yourself as an artist, or did it create a different kind of pressure?
I think it did both. On one hand, it gave me a lot of confidence because it was the first time someone at that level truly believed in my music. It made me realize this could actually become my career. At the same time, it came with a sense of responsibility. When someone believes in you that early, you naturally want to live up to that trust. Over time, I learned to turn that pressure into motivation instead of letting it become fear.
There's a strong emotional vulnerability running through Save Me, even when the tracks are aimed at the dancefloor. Do you see club music as a form of escapism, or as a place where difficult emotions can actually become more visible?
For me, it's definitely the second one. Music can absolutely help people escape for a while, but I also think the dancefloor is a place where people allow themselves to feel things they usually keep hidden. I've always been drawn to that balance between physical energy and emotion. I love the idea that you can dance to a track while also connecting with something deeply personal. I don't think those two experiences contradict each other—they actually complement one another.
You've gone from producing music in Guadalajara to playing venues across Europe and preparing a move to Barcelona, all before turning 21. Has your relationship with home changed as your world has expanded?
Definitely. Guadalajara will always be where everything started and where I developed my identity as an artist. But traveling has taught me that home can also exist in the people you meet, the projects you build, and the experiences you have along the way. Barcelona represents a new chapter full of opportunities and growth, but I don't feel like I'm leaving my roots behind. If anything, I feel like I'm carrying them with me wherever I go.
One of the striking things about this remix album is how differently each artist approached the material—some preserving the originals, others completely transforming them. Was there a remix that surprised you or revealed something about your own music that you hadn't noticed before?
Absolutely. Some of the remixes highlighted melodies and emotions that I had almost taken for granted while making the original tracks. When you spend so much time working on a song, you lose a bit of perspective. Hearing someone else's interpretation felt almost like discovering a new version of my own music.
Electronic music often celebrates constant growth, bigger crowds, bigger stages, bigger opportunities. Looking beyond the obvious career milestones, what would success mean to you five years from now?
For me, success would mean continuing to make music that honestly represents who I am while keeping the freedom to evolve without feeling like I have to repeat myself. Of course, I'd love to play bigger festivals and reach more people, but what matters most is building a career with a strong identity—something that lasts. If, five years from now, I still feel the same excitement every time I start a new track, and I'm able to make a living doing it alongside people I trust, I'd consider that real success.
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