Tone Glow 165: Molina
An interview with the Chilean-Danish singer-songwriter about her childhood, writing songs while pregnant, and the influences behind her new album 'When You Wake Up'
Molina
Molina (b. 1992) is a Chilean-Danish singer-songwriter whose debut album, When You Wake Up, arrives on the great Copenhagen record label Escho. After releasing a string of singles and EPs throughout the past eight years, her first LP sees her transforming her interest in shoegaze and dream pop into a contemplative album about nature, motherhood, her Chilean heritage, and more. The record can be understood as part of a wider network of introspective Danish artists including ML Buch, Astrid Sonne, and Fine—all of whom are Molina’s friends and collaborators. Joshua Minsoo Kim spoke with Molina on October 2nd, 2024 via Zoom to discuss humor in music, her love for His Name is Alive, and writing songs while pregnant.
Joshua Minsoo Kim: How’s your day been?
Molina: It’s going well! I just put my daughter to the nursery and I’m editing a music video—I need to do it really quick before I have to get her up again (laughter).
How old is your daughter?
She’s one and a half—still a small one. She’s my first child. I’ve been really thinking about how I’m using my time and who I’m spending my time with—I really wanna spend time with her when I’m off work. I’m much more structured now.
I know that you’re Chilean and that you went to Chile when you were four. Are there specific things you remember about your visit?
For a lot of years, I was wondering if it was something I knew because I had seen it myself and actually remembered it, or because I saw them on VHS tapes. I remember the smell of the house where my grandparents and I were staying—we were staying with their family. It smelled like really dried earth and mud… sort of like a bonfire. I remember how warm it was in my nose when I was breathing, so it must be something I remember from being there physically. My grandmother was also taking baths outside.
Were you born in Denmark?
Yes, I have a Danish mom and a Chilean dad. My father and my grandparents came to Denmark in the ’70s because of Pinochet. My mom and dad met each other at an art school, and they had me when they were really young—around 19. I’ve been there two times with my grandparents, when I was two and four, but I haven’t been back since. My grandparents have stayed here in Denmark since the ’70s but they would go back during the ’80s to visit family.
You mentioned that your parents went to art school. What sort of things did they do?
They’re painters. I grew up with my mom—my mom and my dad weren’t together—but I still visited my grandparents a lot. I remembered that my mom painted a lot. She was always listening to a lot of different music while painting, and I think she really made me more curious. A lot of it wasn’t children’s music—it was grown-up stuff. I also have an uncle who’s a musician, and I was at their place a lot growing up. He had a tape recorder and a keyboard and I would tape my own beats—you know when you can just press the button and it plays? I would put keys on top of that and that’s when I first started making my own songs—I have a song on a cassette somewhere (laughter). I was eight or something. I grew up in a really creative and music-curious family, but I’m the only musician in the family except for my uncle.
What was the “grown-up” music you heard?
I remember the first time I heard Kate Bush’s “Wuthering Heights.” When making music, the most important parts for me are the melodies and harmonies. I remember listening to that song and being really surprised by her singing. The harmonies would switch directions.
That’s an awesome thing to hear when you’re a child. I feel like its theatricality would go over well with kids—I’ve been thinking about that sort of thing a lot because I have two nephews and a niece right now. They’re all under eight years old.
I made a playlist for my daughter, but it doesn’t have children’s music on it; it was music that I thought she would be interested in hearing at one point.
What’s on there?
I put Dean Blunt on there (laughter). There’s a Chilean musician called Víctor Jara. There’s Kate Bush, Broadcast, and His Name is Alive.
Oh, His Name is Alive just played here in Chicago!
I’m coming to the US again in December, and I was really, really sad because I really love them and wanted to see them.
I listened to them a lot in high school when I was going through the entire 4AD catalogue. I feel like they’re still extremely underrated.
Yeah, I think so. It was maybe 5 or 7 years ago that I learned about them. I think they have really interesting production—songs are always a collage. It’s like they had all these ideas and just smashed them all together. There are so many changes happening, and I really love the melodies—there will be these soft vocals and then these guitars that really contrast them.
It makes a lot of sense to me that you’re drawn to that because your music has always been about that too. I think about Corpus (2017) and the opening track “Dream Original.” Even back then you were interested in incorporating shoegaze. It’s been fun to trace that element from your earlier work up to this new album, When You Wake Up (2024).
I always loved shoegaze and I think that my earlier records were just me exploring Logic and all these different electronics. I’m really glad you can hear that I had this shoegaze guitar underneath all the digital sounds. I went to this school when I was 14—it was the kind of school where you live there, and music was the main subject of the school. I met a lot of people who were interested in music there. Before that I was quite alone, mostly listening to stuff on YouTube. There’s this Danish band called Mew, and that’s where it all started. And then I met a lot of friends at this music school and we started listening to My Bloody Valentine, Cocteau Twins, Broadcast, and Joy Division. We were listening to a lot of post-punk and shoegaze, and I kept loving those genres throughout the years. With this new album, I was interested in exploring acoustic instrumentation, and so maybe my references are clearer now.
What year were you born? I’m trying to get a frame of reference for all this.
1992.
Oh yeah, same! So was this music school your primary high school?
I don’t know how it’s called in the US but in Denmark it’s called afterschool. A lot of kids go there when they’re 15 or 16. Kids will take an extra year at this school to explore music, but we also had math and history and such. We had a lot of classes where we played music together, wrote songs, and used computers to produce.
I interviewed Astrid Sonne earlier this year and I remember her laughing because she was essentially explaining the Danish school system to me (laughter). I appreciate how much it’s structured to help students figure out what they want to do with their lives, at least compared to the US. What sort of memories do you have of this school in terms of helping you become an artist?
I remember I was trying to make songs and I asked these kids I was studying with if they wanted to get into the rehearsal studio and translate what I wrote. I remember hearing my songs in a real band setup and performing them… that was the first time I played with somebody else or stood up on a stage. I really enjoyed that, but what I enjoyed the most was creating the songs—the different parts and melodies and arrangements. I would give these out to others and watch them play. That was the most fun—more fun than playing live—and I still find that the most exciting part about being a musician.
Did you know that you’d be pursuing music and devoting a large part of your life to it because of this school?
I was always interested in that early on, and I always had a lot of difficulties keeping up with anything else. I wasn’t a good student—I couldn’t focus at all—but anytime that I created melodies and songs, my focus zoomed in. After this school, I started this high school where there were no music classes. I ended up leaving because I couldn’t keep up. And then I went to another school—I went to so many schools (laughter)—and this one was for young people who didn’t know what they wanted to do. They had a lot of classes you could take: music, music production, painting, photography. And then I applied for the [Rhythmic Music Conservatory in Denmark] at some point and that’s where I met Astrid and ML Buch. We became really good friends—we were in the same class. I’ve been to a lot of schools that were really supportive. When I think about it, I’m just really happy that I had these opportunities.
What was it like in the conservatory? You mentioned how supportive they were, and I’m curious what that looked like.
I applied for the conservatory when I was 22 or something. I was just so happy to have this community of people around me. We’re still friends, and we help each other out. If you want to go to the conservatory, you really have to know what you want to be taught in. I had a lot of subjects where I’d pick my own teacher. Like, I wanted to know about mixing so I would find someone who I thought was inspiring to teach me.
Earlier you mentioned Kate Bush. I can hear your willingness to have fun with your vocals even back with “Hey Kids” in 2018. With these earlier songs, what sort of things were you exploring at the time?
I was exploring a lot about dynamics and contrasts in vocal melodies. There were a lot of vocals answering each other, weaving in and out. And I still do that, but I think with this new record I’m relaxing a bit more while singing. It’s more simple with how many vocals that are present.
Is singing something you always felt comfortable doing?
I think so. Singing and making melodies are the two things that I was able to trust my intuition with. It’s never something I’ve doubted, and it’s not because I think I’m a big singer—I don’t think I have a big voice—but I’ve always been really sure of my vocals and what they could do. I was singing early on at home, and I never did it in front of anyone else, though during family gatherings I would always perform. I’d say, “Come and watch me!” and then I’d sing something. But when I was making songs as a teenager, it was mostly for myself. I’d be in the rehearsal room, singing, and trying to make harmonies with the piano and keyboards.
I love that you told people to come and watch you sing.
It’s funny because I’m really shy. I’ve never felt totally comfortable performing, and I still struggle with being comfortable on stage, so it’s funny to think back to when I was a child and didn’t care. When you get older, you focus on everything around you and you don’t do that when you’re a kid.
Why is still difficult to feel comfortable while performing live?
Whenever I’m in front of someone, I feel like I have to deliver something. I think too much about what’s around me, and then I become too aware of what I’m doing. I’ll get stiff and freeze. It really helped being on tour with my friend ML Buch and playing with her live. I wasn’t the frontperson—she was—but it helped me. I’m much more comfortable going up on stage now since we did it a lot.
When did you first start touring with her?
Maybe a year ago. We started out in the UK.
I remember seeing you at the Pitchfork Festival show. When we got on the Zoom call I was like… you look familiar somehow and I was like, oh duh (laughter). What was it like for you to compose Vanilla Shell (2020)? I liked how you had the MIDI instrumentation on the title track; it lined up with what ML Buch was doing back then.
We were in the same classes together and we were exchanging software with each other. We had this M1 synthesizer and there were a lot of people during that time, around 2019, who were exploring this mixture of the digital and organic. Maybe it’s just a fascination with the way we’re developing in society while wanting to maintain some sort of grounding. I wasn’t really thinking a lot about the digital society within my music; I was just thinking of how to blend something more polished and synthetic with something more human. It’s still a lot about contrasts.
You have the song “Parásito” on there, and then on the Cold EP (2021) there’s the Víctor Jara track, “El Aparecido.” I’m curious about the act of singing in Spanish and what it was like for you to explore Chilean culture. What have you learned as a result of that?
With the three songs from Cold, it was still a lot about combining the synthetic with the acoustic. I was also trying to connect more with my origins. I really love Víctor Jara’s “El Aparcedio”—it’s a song we’re always listening to in my family, and it’s really important for my grandparents. It was a way for me to reach out to them a little bit while still translating it into a song that fits into my universe.
Did you show the song to your grandparents?
Yeah, they thought it sounded really beautiful with the flute on it. There’s a lot of flutes in Chilean folk music, and that’s something that I’ve been inspired by. I just really like the texture of flutes… the overtones and the air. I think I’m gonna buy a pan flute actually (laughs). I want to use a lot of textures from the pan flute.
Do you feel like there’s something still untapped in your works that you’re looking to find in Chilean music?
Chilean music has this specific way of playing the guitar rhythm and I thought it could be nice to try something out with that. There’s a lot of pan flutes, quena flutes, acoustic guitars, and a lot of percussion too. I really want to keep doing the chords and harmonies in my own way, and explore how playing Chilean folk music can act as an inspiration.
You’ve toured with ML and she appears on your new album, and Astrid played on the Cold EP. What’s been important for you about being around these other musicians?
There were a lot of years during my late teens and early 20s where I felt a bit alone with regards to my interests. I felt really happy that I was around other people who had the same thoughts about making music. We make really different music, too. I always send demos to Astrid and ask what she thinks. She comes back with questions and ideas and she does that with me—apparently I’m the one in the group who’s really good at mixing. I just think we’re helping each other out. I asked ML, Astrid, Fine, and Erika [de Casier] about the sequencing of songs for my album. And Henriette Motzfeldt from Smerz as well.
You mentioned acoustic guitars earlier. With your new album, you have a song like “The Road from Here” that’s more stripped down. What was it like to make a song like that where it’s less focused on texture?
It was the quickest song I’ve ever made—I think I made it in one day. It’s really short, and I was having fun while making it and just didn’t do anything after the pan flute part. I actually recorded it on my sofa, recording the guitar on my iPhone, and then I just looped it. I made some rough cuts because I thought it was funny. And then I recorded a vocal on top, and that was it. It was nice to not think too much about what was happening. The lyrics reflect on how it’s a song where I don’t know where to go (laughter).
Is humor an important aspect of music to you?
With the album, I tried not to put humor into the sounds themselves but more into the approach. I would switch environments if I felt like I was getting bored. I was spending a lot of time on my sofa, but I was pregnant during this time and I didn’t have a lot of energy. If I wanted to work an hour, I just worked an hour and then I’d stop and sleep or eat. I just really liked to go on the sofa and jam with my iPhone or a mic and just smash it all up together. I wanted to use this unintentional and playful material, and I’m not sure it would’ve sounded like that if I had other people perform these pieces, which is what I did with my other releases.
What was it like to make this album while pregnant? Of course a song like “I Am Your House” is about your child.
A lot of the lyrics were inspired by how my body was changing. I wasn’t sad, but it was a bit lonely to be pregnant. You were tired all the time and didn’t have the energy to go out with your friends whenever you wanted to—you needed to relax. With “I Am Your House,” I’m not talking about how my belly is big (laughter), I’m just using these lush images of my body, talking about steamy mud and moist raindrops. And with “Organs,” it’s not about being pregnant, but about how your body changes when summer fades away. You crawl more into yourself.
While pregnant, you’d feel sick a lot and you could see that somebody was inside your body moving around. But the biggest part for me was that I felt like I had to protect this child, and in a way that I never felt before. I was really listening to myself and how I felt—I was listening to myself all the time. I was creating boundaries and saying no to stuff; it helped me feel more confident with that.
You mentioned how you felt more alone while pregnant, and you have a song like “Navel” which seems to be about that. Can you share more?
I made that one when I was pregnant too. It felt like time didn’t move at all. I felt lonesome, but also really happy at the same time. So the song is about being lonely but ultimately happy because you knew that something great was going to happen.
Were you always comfortable with being by yourself?
I’m a person who really needs to be alone before having the energy to be social. While pregnant, it was too much of being alone, so I really missed having those social interactions. But I really love being alone—really love it (laughter). It’s a balance that I have to find.
What was it like for you to collaborate with people on this album, and how was it compared to previous releases?
I asked people to collaborate with me because I was on my own so much, but also because I think they’re really talented. It was a way for me to have some social contact with somebody else beyond the one in my belly (laughter). The ML Buch song [“Organs”] was not actually made while I was pregnant; it was made in 2020. It’s a really old song. I asked a guy named GB to help with post-production. I made all of the songs, went to the studio, and was like, “What do you think?” And then he gave feedback. It helped me finish everything up and that was really nice. We also made a song together, “A New Day.”
One of my favorite parts of the album is hearing “Homesick,” which is really short, lead into “Flowers.” You really feel the weight of the guitars when “Flowers” comes on. On the former track, you have the line “When I look at my phone, I wrap myself in uncertainty.” Where did that stem from?
“Homesick” was originally a whole song and I decided to just use a snippet of it. At one point, I really needed to put my phone down because I didn’t feel comfortable about myself and with my music; I really wanted to make sure that this time around, I’d do it in my own way. I’m not a person who posts a lot—I feel really uncomfortable with that.
I like the lyrics for “Flowers” too because it has a somber tone but there’s this hopefulness mentioned in the lyrics, and that feeling gets bolstered by all the layered vocals.
I wrote “Flowers” around the same time I wrote “Organs.” Around 2020 or 2021, I was reflecting on the weather and how it was changing. When winter is coming, you can walk outside and see all the colorful flowers coated in ice, turning into something else. I said “don’t give up” because I wanted the flowers to still be colorful and alive. It’s not a poem because I don’t write poems, but I wrote a little lyric for that song—“Flowers that are glasslike / Underneath the ice shell”—and then had improvised harmonies with my vocals. I think it’s always changing (playfully sings notes of varying pitches) because I’m really just playing around (laughter). Afterwards, I had Troels [Damgaard] play guitar—he’s just translating the bass notes and playing them to give the song more texture. I also had a lot of other people sing on it. I recorded this lead voice and sent it to everyone: Astrid, ML Buch, Henriette Motzfeldt, and three men because I’ve only worked with my own female voice. I wanted bass notes. And then they sent it back to me, I cut them all out, and then made a new arrangement. They’re not singing where I put their vocals; I’m cutting parts up and making a bigger arrangement so it could fill up this picture. I tried to sing it live but it was difficult (laughter).
You mention nature and, like we talked about earlier, you have your experiences with Chile, which is a focus of “The Valleys of Tomé.” That song has the line “no laughter”—can you expand on that?
I wrote that for my grandparents. It was about when they were trying to get away from their own country. I don’t know if I can go into too many personal details, but it was just a song about these two people and what they went through during that traumatic time—they were only 18. The song is a bit dark because it’s about them going through the dictatorship, but I’m also mentioning all this beauty that’s there.
Are you still close with your grandparents?
Yes, I see them every week.
You mentioned earlier that you were into His Name is Alive, as well as a bunch of shoegaze and post-punk. Were these influences for this record?
I’ve been working a lot with collages. And by that I mean I’ll create a lot of one-takes, cut something out, and put it alongside something completely different. When I listen to His Name is Alive, I feel like they’re doing the same thing. With My Bloody Valentine, I’m more into the rawness of Isn’t Anything (1988). The really, really thin drums! It’s a nice contrast—this rough instrumentation and the thin mix. I also like all the demos they made, which are more impulsive.
I also have been listening to Broadcast since I was 14. I really like how Trish Keenan forms melodies—she sings each word to their fullest. On the song “Black Cat,” when she sings “sapphire” (sings the ascending melody), she makes a melody within the word. I think a lot about trying to get as much of a melody into my music. That’s why I tried to keep my instrumentation simple, so I could keep the melodies more complex. I also decided that I wanted to mix the vocals really dry and warm, with minimal reverb. I really like shoegaze, but a lot of shoegaze is a lot more introverted and has a lot of reverb—I’m trying to take this somewhere else.
Has your relationship with these songs changed after giving birth to your daughter? Do they have a new sort of meaning nowadays?
When I wrote “Navel,” I didn’t specifically think it was a song about me feeling like this. But when we were talking about it earlier, it started to make sense. I don’t think the songs have changed though. A lot of them are three or four years old, and I still have this timeless relationship with them. When I listen to these songs, it’s not like I’m thinking back on this older time; they’re just there. I’ve never felt like that with my older music; I’ve always had a more distant relationship with my music. But with these songs, every time I listen to them they sound new again. It’s really nice. With When You Wake Up, it was about taking it slow and zooming in on the playfulness. With the others, I really wanted songs to sound a specific way and I was really harsh on myself. I’ve been more loose, and there’s just a relaxed relationship to these songs, and that’s probably why they still feel new.
I forgot to mention this earlier, but I wanted to ask about the music you grew up with. You mentioned recording those early songs on the keyboard. Were there any songs you heard from your family or your friends that initially led to you making music? I’m specifically asking about the songs you made before you were a teenager.
I was listening to a lot of children’s music. There was the [Junior] Eurovision Song Contest, but I also remember seeing this music video—I watched a lot of VH1 and MTV—for Basement Jaxx’s “Where’s Your Head At.” I told my father, “I really want this CD,” and he got it for me. I still really like that record [2001’s Rooty]. I would borrow my mother’s Discman and she listened to this Norwegian band, Röyksopp, a lot. Their first album, Melody A.M. (2001), is the only album I like from them, but I listened to that a lot—it was really dreamy. My mom was also listening to a lot of Moby and Kate Bush and Madonna.
I end all my interviews with the same question and I wanted to ask it to you. Do you mind sharing one thing you love about yourself?
I love my ears. They’re really big. I’m so happy I didn’t get ear reduction surgery when I was a teen. I was so close to getting one (laughter). You can get that for free when you’re a child—it’s crazy! But I love them now and I want to show everyone my ears. I didn’t like them when I was younger; I was a little browner than everyone else and would get called “monkey” by other children. They’d be called monkey ears. Now, I think of them as elven ears (laughter).
Molina’s debut album When You Wake Up can be purchased at the Escho website and at Bandcamp.
Thank you for reading the 165th issue of Tone Glow. We need to book Molina at Big Ears, surely.
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Great interview! Great artist. Thank you.