LOS MANANTIALES

"Los manantiales" ("The Springs") refers to all those sources from which I drink to make my songs: Stereolab, Broadcast, Galaxie 500, Cate Le Bon... And also some of the flamenco language. Flamenco in my own way, of course," explains Plaza. "Los manantiales" will also bring echoes of acts that the artist has not practiced as much such as Esclarecidos, Vainica Doble, Ana D or Kikí d'Akí. Deep voices for songs with substance.

But there is also that other idea of the spring that gushes forth when it can no longer be contained. "It has taken me so many years to make this album because I had a prejudice related to the previous one ["Primer segundo"] in which there was a coherence. Not finding that concept or thinking that this or that wasn't Daga Voladora, I couldn't get into it. Until I decided that maybe I didn't have to impose such a rigid direction on myself..."

Sketched in a town bordering Ávila where Plaza decided to get lost in the summer of 2022 and then finished off in a basement in Madrid for several months, the nine songs of "Los manantiales" make up a short album, premeditatedly short ("I don't like the songs to be longer than 2:50") but, above all, varied. Because, as can be sensed in the song Quise ser ( "I wanted to be a fictional hero, an expressionist painter, a promising actress"), here are all the imagined Cristinas and their different lives ("The song Lejos de la multitud is that longing of mine to be a vagabond"), an unmistakable sign that, as the artist confesses, "I am my own spring". And all this joyful dispersion comes from the premise with which Plaza approached the album: "I said to myself: 'Let's play'. I set out to have a good time. Suddenly, I wanted to do a dub track and I came up with Fosforito or a rock song like Lou Reed in the 80s and there was 'Me vi penando'. I wanted a rock record, an experimental record, something like Broadcast, and a musical! I wanted to do a thousand things!"

The result is a playful album, very enjoyable; but above all elegant and extremely precise. In both form and substance. Thus, the melodies are so rounded at first listen; the music would work perfectly on its own, stripped of lyrics that respond to the maxim, so often ignored, that there is really only one way to say things. "I have tried to refine the texts a lot. There are some phrases taken from Steinbeck, other things that emerge in a somewhat magical way. There's also Gary Snyder, Kerouac and his Dharma Bums, echoes of California..."

It's an album made, as usual with her, in the most absolute solitude (except for the collaboration of Andrés Arregui on sax and the final mix by Fino Oyonarte). Bareback. "I recorded everything with my computer, with my instruments, my analog keyboards, my rhythm boxes, little noises I make around... I don't make demos. I just do it. In a rough way. What I do do is repeat. The good thing about this method is that many things happen spontaneously and that's where they stay".

An album that, for all of the above, responds to the best notion of caprice. A whimsical whim, signed and finished off by the splendid cover designed by Beatriz Lobo, which feartures a painting ('La chica del King Creole') by the legendary artist Javier de Juan.

In "Los manantiales" there are many possible worlds, as many dreamed ones. Of course, those of Daga Voladora (not in vain, the album opens with a song titled Cristinópolis), but also those of any curious and sensitive listener who, by the way, will find more than one musical wink along the way. You just have to be attentive.