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. Práctica de Límites is a bold exploration of boundaries—both sonic and political. What personal or global experiences influenced this concept?

"Unfortunately, we’re still living in a world where territorial borders are always looming in the background. They’re imaginary lines, constructed by people and just as easily, they could be deconstructed. I’m not trying to get overtly political, but the truth is, these borders are always part of the conversation. And because of that, they naturally become a source of inspiration, especially when you start thinking about how they relate to boundaries in sound."

2. Your music often embraces organic and mechanical elements. How do you navigate that tension when producing?

"I actually started out as a drummer in rock bands, so rhythm and that raw, human feel have always been at the core of how I relate to music. Even though this project lives in the electronic world, I still crave that organic texture when I’m producing. If everything sounds too clean or polished, it loses the soul. I’m constantly chasing that sweet spot where the mechanical precision of electronic music meets something more alive, more imperfect. Honestly, it’s an ongoing process. I haven’t cracked the code yet, but that tension is part of what keeps it exciting."

3. What role do field recordings play in this album? Any surprising sources behind the sounds?

"To be honest, field recordings didn’t play a major role on this album. Most of the atmosphere comes from a very minimal set of sample bits of old songs, and a friend’s voice that I chopped up and played in reverse. It’s subtle, but it adds this strange, almost ghostly texture. If you're looking for more of that raw, environmental feel, you'll hear it more in my previous album Fósil."

4. “Antiarmónica” and “Distorpersión” seem to twist musical logic. How do you compose when rules are deliberately blurred?

"It might sound like a cliché by now, but if you want to create something truly different and genuine, you have to blur the rules. What matters most is that it makes sense to you as the producer. That internal coherence is what gives the piece its shape, even when it sounds unconventional to others. There’s something thrilling about discovering beauty in unexpected places, when a sound that shouldn’t work somehow becomes the most powerful moment in the track."

5. The remixes reinterpret core tracks in distinct ways. How were those collaborations initiated?

"Umo, who’s both a musician and one of the label’s co-founders, was the one who suggested the remix artists. I really trust the label’s vision and the humble, thoughtful approach they bring to their work, so I was immediately on board. I think the remixes turned out beautifully, they brought a sense of structural harmony and reinterpretation that I hadn’t been able to reach in the original versions."

6. Berlin has shaped many artists—how has it transformed you, creatively or personally?

"That’s a tough one. It would probably require a much longer answer… I arrived in Berlin just a year before the pandemic hit, so it was an intense mix of new stimuli and isolation. A lot of what I experienced during that time, I’m still processing and trying to fully understand. It also marked a major turning point in my project. 'Señora' originally started as a duo, and around that time, it became a solo endeavor. That transition gave birth to Fósil, my previous album, which reflects a slower, more introspective and even melancholic tone. But beneath all that, there’s still a strong sense of hope. Berlin didn’t just shape the music, it shaped the context in which it was made."

7. How do you feel this album positions itself in your discography, especially after Fósil?

"Well, it’s been a while since Fósil. I’ve found myself gravitating back toward more consistent, danceable rhythms. But the emotional atmosphere around them is still very much shaped by the rawness and melancholy of those earlier moments. I’d say this album feels like a synthesis, a kind of merging between movement and introspection. It carries forward what Fósil explored emotionally, but channels it through a different energy."

8. What do you want the listener to feel or question by the end of Práctica de Límites?

"I don’t think it works in such a direct way. I just hope the listener enjoys the experience in their own way. What inspired the album might come from political or historical ideas, but that doesn’t mean it should push the listener toward studying those things. If it resonates emotionally, sparks a thought, or simply feels good to listen to, that’s enough for me."

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